#the jaws the shoulders the eyebrows the hair the clothes

[fxstpace]

the very first night.

summary. the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing. kim mingyu x fem!reader genres. romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count. 19.7k

↳ warnings. profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ↳ a/n. title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?” 

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider. 

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn. 

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?” 

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge���s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is. 

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea. 

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says. 

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.” 

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN 

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying. 

He remembers. 

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin. 

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects. 

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves. 

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders. 

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu. 

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that. 

[theslushiestnoob]

THE BOY NEXT DOOR (pt4)

Word count: 2k

Hamzah x reader

————————*:･ﾟ✧*:——————————

The next few days passed in a blur - some more interactions with Hamzah, some more errands to run, and ,somehow, it was the night before we left for Croatia.

I was neatly stacking my clothes into my suitcase, my feet folded under me as I sat on the floor, when I heard the knock. I trudged to the door, shielding my eyes from the late afternoon light streaming in through the open window and casting a golden hue throughout the apartment.

Opening the door, my eyes fell upon a tall, curly-haired boy. A beanie was pulled low against his brow, a few loose curls escaping it and framing his angular features. He scrubbed a hand against his firm jaw, smirking as he locked eyes with me.

‘Oh. It’s you.’ I turned, beginning to walk back to my room and continue packing.

‘I just love your enthusiasm to see me, girlfriend!’ Hamzah said chirpily.

‘Nope! None of that, please. Not when it’s just us,’ I called over my shoulder, waving Hamzah away as he followed me into my room. As he crossed through the doorway, his gaze darted from wall to wall, taking in all of the decor. He seemed awed, looking at the trinkets on my desk to the spines of the books on my shelves.

‘First time you’ve been in a girl’s room for a while, huh?’ I teased, settling back down on the floor. Hamzah chuckled, crossing his hands across his chest and leaning against the door.

‘First time I’ve been in one this chaotic, that’s for sure.’

‘Unfair. I’m packing. Why are you here, anyway?’ I asked, agitated and unsure how he had found his way into my room.

‘I wanted to ask you on a date, he replied coolly, spinning the ring on his finger.

I almost dropped the pair of sandals I was holding in shock, before I remembered our arrangement.

‘As practice?’ I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

‘Obviously. I just think we should go on a proper date, it’ll probably be better practice than anything else we’ve tried.’

I thought about it for a second.

‘Fine. But help me pack, first.’ 

*

After a short car ride of bickering over the radio, we finally reached the restaurant Hamzah had wanted to come to. I had changed before we left - ditching my boy shorts and hoodie for a pair of dark denim jeans and a fitted blue shirt. Standing on the pavement outside, I looked up at the building, a cursive sign denoting the place to be Enzo’s italian ristorante. Fairy lights draped from the branches of two blossoming trees cast the facade in an ethereal glow against the dim, pale light of the moon.

It was beautiful. I was slightly surprised that Hamzah had taken me here, I had honestly been expecting a fast food place where we’d eat in the car. I began to walk toward the large double doors of the restaurant, Hamzah beside me. As we reached the entrance, Hamzah pushed open the door and pressed his other hand to the small of my back to guide me inside. I instinctively flinched away from him, swatting his hand away and scrunching my brow in distaste.

He leaned into my ear, whispering in a hushed voice, ‘Nuh-uh. As far as anyone knows, we’re dating. You have to act like it, not how you normally do, you have to sell it.’

I raised my eyebrows. Was that a challenge?

‘Oh I’ll sell it alright,’ I murmur, pushing my way through the door and striding up to the desk.

‘Hi there!’ I greet the waiter, turning to face Hamzah beside me. ‘Honeybuns, do we have a reservation?’ I asked, looping my hands around his bicep and resting my head on his shoulder. I plastered a cheesy smile onto my face, turning back to the server. Hamzah stammered for a moment, his eyes darting between my face and my hands.

‘Yes, we do,uhh… baby,’ he said, turning to tell the server his reservation. The man nodded, and led us to our table.

‘Can I get you started with any drinks?’

‘Ooh,’ I say, ‘I’ll have a glass of wine, please.’

‘Which o-’ the waiter begins before he is interrupted.

‘Hold on, sugar. Are you sure you should be drinking, you know, with the baby?’ Hamzah said, resting his hand on mine outstretched on the table. I gritted my teeth, shooting him a lethal death stare.

‘Of course, you’re right, babe,’ I managed through my scowl. ‘Just two cokes then, please,’ I asked the waiter, who promptly whisked away with our order.

I threw my hands up in the air and glared at Hamzah, who was laughing to himself.

‘Great, so now I have to get through this sober, too,’ I grumbled.

Hamzah’s smile stretched further into a grin. ‘Two can play at your game, y/n.’

*

After placing our orders, the conversation flowed somewhat freely. It didn’t feel like a real date, the tension that always hung between us was ever present, yet I could somewhat relax in the ease of conversation. Hamzah was talking about cats when I spotted the waiter coming towards us with our food, and I decided to swiftly change the topic.

‘Oh, baby, my legs are still aching after last night. I could hardly stand after you-’ the waiter reached our table, a mortified expression on his face. ‘Oh! Thank you!’ I said innocently, shooting a smug grin at Hamzah, who seemed equally as shocked. 

‘Sorry if you overheard that,’ I said to the waiter, ‘but can you blame me? Look at this handsome face!’ I reached across the table and took Hamzah’s face in my hands, squeezing his cheeks into a pouty expression.

‘If you think that’s impressive, you should see his-’

‘Okay!’ Hamzah interrupts. ‘Thank you, everything looks perfect.’ He nodded curtly at the waiter, who seemed extremely relieved to be dismissed.

‘Christ, y/n, you’re going to get us thrown out,’ he whispered, a simultaneously amused and shocked expression on his face. 

I laughed in response, turning my attention to my meal and plotting how I could one-up his antics. 

‘So…’ Hamzah started, breaking the silence that had settled between us. ‘Do you really think I’m handsome?’

I rolled my eyes.

‘I hate you,’ I said with a sigh.

*

We had enjoyed our meals, and the lateness of the evening combined with the amount of food we had eaten was beginning to take its toll on both of us. I yawned, and Hamzah took that as an indication to get ready to leave. I looked up at him, a glint of mischief in his dark eyes, and sighed in anticipation.

‘My angel honey bear, I love you so much, and there’s something I have to do before we go.’

I watched intently through narrowed eyes as Hamzah rose from his seat and moved to stand beside me.

‘I have loved you since the moment I saw you, my pretty princess.’ He placed a hand on my knee, lowering himself to the ground. My mouth dropped open in shock, not believing that he had taken it this far.

‘y/n, will you ma-’

‘Get up.’ I whispered through gritted teeth, a faux smile plastered on my face as I looked around at everybody watching us. Hamzah conveniently ignored me, reaching into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a silver ring, one which I had noticed on his hand earlier. Bastard.

‘Will you marry me?’ He continued, looking up at me in a display of faux apprehension.

I glanced around at the room of expectant people watching us, and almost kicked Hamzah right in front of them. I had to play along, to win the challenge he and I had almost wordlessly set ourselves. I couldn’t let him win.

‘Yes!’ I exclaimed, in far too high a pitch. 

Cheers erupted throughout the room as I offered Hamzah my hand. He slid the ring onto my finger and it was, of course, far too big. He rose to his feet, sweeping me up into his arms and whisking me out of my seat. He laughed in my ear as he swayed me from side to side.

‘I think I won,’ he taunted in a sing-song voice.

‘I’m going to kill you.’ I threatened. ‘I don’t even wear silver, you dick.’

He set me down on the floor, pressing a kiss to my temple as he waved to the onlookers. I buried my head in his shoulder, giggling. In this moment, the euphoric high of deception and good humour tethered me to him - our joint laughter intoxicating and joyous. He wrapped his arms around me, encircling me in an embrace, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.

*

‘Definitely worth it for a free dessert, I have to admit,’ I said through a mouthful of fudgy brownie.

‘Mhm,’ Hamzah replies, chewing on a spoonful.

After the fake proposal, our waiter brought over a huge plate of dessert, which we had already demolished.

‘Okay but seriously, be at mine at 5am so we can go to the airport. Mandy and Martin are going to pick us up from the airport in Croatia, so as soon as the plane lands we need to be locked in,’ Hamzah told me, an intensely serious look in his deep brown eyes.

‘Right. Haven’t I proven tonight that I’m good at this?’

‘I have to admit you are, but when you’re not acting you give off this repulsed vibe that won’t help our case.’ He said, pursing his lips in thought.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

‘Girl, you know I’m right.’

I scoffed and shook my head, muttering ‘Sassy man apocalypse…’ under my breath.

*

Trudging up the stairs to our floor, a comfortable silence settled over Hamzah and I - slightly breathless from the steps but also not feeling the need to speak. I trailed behind him as he stepped onto the landing, pausing to turn back at me.

‘I had a good time tonight, you’re actually not unbearable,’ I told him.

‘You’re so nice to me,’ Hamzah replied sarcastically with a cheesy smile. I giggled into my hand, reaching into my bag to grab my keys.

‘Hold on,’ Hamzah interrupted, closing the distance between us in a single stride. He took my hand in his, lowering it to my side, and placed the other on my jaw. I almost recoiled from his searing hot touch, but something in his eyes rooted me to the spot, transfixing my gaze onto his.

‘I think we should practise one more thing…’ he whispered, almost inaudibly, as his gaze flitted to my lips.

‘Hmm? And what’s that?’ I said coyly, widening my eyes as I wetted my lips with my tongue. Hamzah’s gaze fixed onto the action, swallowing a lump in his throat as he watched. He pressed himself closer to me still, further entangling his fingers with mine. He looked into my eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to mine. He cradled me against him, his large hand roving up my back and pulling me in even tighter. His mouth moved against mine with experienced skill - he was clearly well practised. Something about this realisation caused a tightening in my gut. Jealousy? Attraction? My mind was becoming more like mush every moment his lips were on mine, making it impossible to identify. My fingers tangled in his unruly curls, gently angling his head to fit better against mine. He let out a soft grunt as I ran my hands across his scalp, causing the fire in me to burn even brighter. Just then, Hamzah broke the kiss, dropping his hands from the embrace and returning his gaze to my eyes. His slightly flushed face and swollen lips made my stomach flutter, his hooded eyes on mine unbearably attractive. 

‘How was that?’ He whispered against my face, slightly breathless.

‘Actually not unbearable,’ I replied, biting my lower lip and smiling up at him mischievously. 

The grin he gave me confirmed everything I had been doubting. This boy would be the death of me.

[droppingartintotheinfinite]

the worst part of getting into new fandoms is having to figure out how to translate the art style into something i can actually draw

can’t believe i got into a 90s anime when i can’t even draw characters from modern anime…. the gods are testing me

[sushiyuzu]

sugar daddy

warning: fluff + tension — sugardaddy!sylus spoiling you with his black card 🤑 [ x fem!reader ]

- second acc: @blushpawss

“here,” sylus says, tossing something onto the table in front of you. you glance down, your eyes widening when you see it—the shiny black card, his personal, unlimited credit card.

“what… what’s this for?” you stammer, looking from the card to him, confused. sylus leans back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips, crimson eyes locking onto yours.

“for you to spend, of course,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. “buy whatever you want.”

your jaw drops slightly, and you feel a mix of disbelief and excitement bubble up inside you. “sylus, are you serious?”

he raises an eyebrow, his silver hair catching the light as he gives you a teasing look. “do i look like i’m joking?”

you can’t help but laugh nervously, shaking your head. “you’ve got to be kidding me… i can’t just spend ALL your money.”

sylus leans forward now, resting his elbows on his knees, and his smirk turns into a playful grin. “trust me, you couldn’t spend all of it if you tried.”

your eyes flick back to the black card, still in disbelief. “but… why?”

“because i like spoiling you,” he says, his tone softer now, almost serious. “and because i can.”

you bite your lip, suddenly feeling a little shy under his intense gaze. the thought of him giving you free rein with his money, his ridiculously large fortune, is overwhelming. but there’s also a part of you—a curious, excited part—that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to indulge.

“you really want me to?” you ask quietly, looking back at him, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation.

sylus tilts his head slightly, studying you with that same intensity that always makes your heart race. “of course i do. i want you to have whatever makes you happy.”

he stands up then, coming around the table until he’s standing behind you. his hands rest on your shoulders, fingers brushing your skin gently as he leans down to murmur in your ear, “go ahead, take the card. spend the day however you want. anything you see, it’s yours.”

a shiver runs down your spine at the feeling of his breath against your ear, and before you know it, you’re reaching for the card, picking it up with slightly trembling fingers. sylus straightens up, satisfied, and moves back to his seat, watching you with a look of amusement.

“i… i don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your mind racing with possibilities. clothes, jewelry, shoes—you could buy anything. it’s almost too much to think about.

“start wherever you like,” sylus says smoothly. “i’ll have a car ready to take you wherever you want.”

you glance up at him, still feeling a little overwhelmed but also more excited than you’ve ever been. “you’re not coming with me?”

he shakes his head, smiling softly. “not this time. today is about you.”

and just like that, you’re whisked away in one of his sleek black cars, the driver patiently waiting as you step into the most expensive stores you’ve ever seen. the salespeople seem to know the moment you walk in, eyes widening at the sight of the black card in your hand. they practically trip over themselves to help you, showing you everything from designer clothes to luxury handbags, expensive jewelry, and shoes that cost more than you could have ever dreamed.

at first, it feels strange—almost surreal—to just point at things and have them brought to you. but as the day goes on, you start to get into the rhythm of it. you try on dresses made from the softest silk, shoes that make you feel like you’re walking on air. the jewelry sparkles under the store lights, and each time you say “i’ll take it,” the salespeople smile and hurry to wrap it up for you.

by the time the afternoon comes around, you’re carrying bags filled with everything you could want and more. sylus’s card never gets declined, no matter how much you spend, and you start to understand just how insane his wealth truly is.

it’s only when you step into the last store—a boutique that specializes in high-end lingerie—that you feel a small pang of nerves again. you’re not sure why, but there’s something about this particular place that feels different. more personal.

“is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” the saleswoman asks politely, her eyes flicking to the black card in your hand.

you hesitate for a second, then smile. “i’m just looking.”

but as you browse through the delicate lace and silk, your mind drifts back to sylus, to the way he looked at you earlier. you pick up a particularly beautiful red set, running your fingers over the soft material, and you wonder what he’d think if he saw you in it.

without even realizing it, you find yourself buying the set. as the saleswoman wraps it up for you, you can’t help but smile to yourself, imagining the look on sylus’s face when he sees it.

when you return to the house, your arms full of bags, sylus is waiting for you in the living room, lounging on the couch with a glass of wine in his hand. he glances up as you walk in, his crimson eyes lighting up with amusement.

“looks like you had fun,” he says, setting his glass down and standing up to greet you.

“you could say that,” you reply, laughing as you set the bags down one by one.

he walks over to you, his hands slipping around your waist as he pulls you in for a kiss. “did you get everything you wanted, sweetie?”

you nod, feeling a little giddy from the day. “more than i wanted.”

his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “good. because i want to see everything you bought. especially that little red number you picked up at the end.”

your face heats up, your heart skipping a beat as you realize he somehow knew about the lingerie. you look up at him, wide-eyed, and he grins, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

“nothing gets past me,” he teases, his voice low and playful.

you can’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of his arms around you, the weight of the day’s indulgence sinking in. “you really spoil me, you know that?”

“i enjoy spoiling you,” sylus replies, his eyes darkening slightly as his lips find yours again. “and i’m not done yet.”

[aphrodeiities]

ᴠᴇɴᴜꜱ ꜱɪɢɴꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ

i have one last spot for a chart reading you could [venus persona chart and feminine archetype reading is also available]

follow for more content!

ARIES VENUS

MADISON BEER, RIHANNA AND EVA LONGORIA

♇ literally diamond heads, arched eyebrows and full lips. aries venus women are likely to have cupid bows and very pink lips with amazing smiles. i noted many of them have almond eye shapes , square/sharp jaws and a long face that is finely proportioned with amazing cheek bones.

♇ they are also known for their sense of style, specifically rihanna and eva, eva when it comes to her outfits as gabi from desperate housewives is always talked about. they usually have a slim build that is toned as well.

♇ they usually have nice noses, buttoned noses and most of them have a nice nose bridged, ones that are usually sought out for in the cosmetic industry. they wear clothes, clothes dont wear them! aim for bold colours like red and black, but dont be afraid to be more colourful.

♇ they remind me of the animal lynx, because their facial features are very lifted. they usually are the beauty standard and are likely to start fashion/make-up trends. very sexually appealing and have a flirtatious but fierce look to them, its like they're challenging people to come forward to them.

extra - marilyn monroe

TAURUS VENUS

ARIANA GRANDE, SUNDAY KALOGERAS AND JESSICA ALBA

♱ very doe eyes beauty, square jaws like the sign before them, but they're likely women who have a shorter face compared to aries venuses. they have a more rounder face and they're likely to have straighter eyebrows and an upper lip which is bigger than the lower lip.

♱ look excellent in light clothing and brown. do well with curly hair, and have an innocent/adolescent look to them. they normally look frail and have slender necks that sometimes make them look tall when they're taking up close pictures.

♱ they're the epitome of having a deer face, they also have features that are upturned, but i've noted a lot of taurus venuses usually do get cosmetic surgery. they're considered as adorable to many people, so sometimes they have a hard time feeling sexy because other people see otherwise.

♱ they also tend to have high/cute voices. another indicator to why people might not take them seriously when they try to come off as sexually appealing or annoyed in general.

extra - princess diana

GEMINI VENUS

GISELE BUNDCHEN, STUNNA GIRL AND MARGOT ROBBIE

♇ have a very high face, wide smiles, and long face structure, very sharp and darty eyes and always looks like they're up to something or are about to say a joke. they look like foxes [not in a bad way].

♇ they look good in clothing styles that are considered "corporate", like school clothing, "office" siren clothing. either way, as gemini is a mutable sign and the most adaptable. they can dress themselves in a very versatile way and still look good. but most of the time clothing that are too tight for them can be unflattering.

♇ they usually have a square face, high cheek bones and a long nose. if they do too much cosmetic surgery they look very unflattering. [specifically for them], they look nice with very contrasting hair colours, like they can look good in very dark hair or look good in very light hair.

♇ gemini venus women usually have nice shoulders and nice hands, and look good in outfits that is considered "opposite" to them, as gemini represents the twins in astrology. and when it comes to hairstyles, middle partings look nice on them.

extra - megan fox

CANCER VENUS

ZENDAYA, ANGELINA JOLIE AND HALLE BERRY

♱ very pretty women, amazing side profiles, look good in both straight and arched eyebrows. they tend to have medium length faces but the width of their faces tend to be wide. sparkling eyes, especially due to their venus being moon ruled, sometimes it always looks like they're about to cry.

♱ soft smiles and pearly teeth. look excellent when paired with jewellery, and have pretty necks. usually they give the vibe of being average height. usually do have thick eyelashes, even if its not long, they're usually thick or you can say full. their noses usually point down or have a flick to them.

♱ they tend to look really nice with their hair down, especially because they look like mermaids. they have that "i just got out of the water" look to them. and they usually have a lot of baby hairs.

♱ cancer venus women can easily rock the messy hair look, as cancer is one of the signs that rules the bed, sleep and night. they look really nice with pixie cuts or side-parts. they can stare really hard though.

extra - adriana lima

LEO VENUS

PAMELA ANDERSON, ARIANA GREENBLATT AND MONICA BELLUCCI

♇ like those with cancer venuses, leo venus women have amazing side profiles, and can can look good with both thin and thick eyebrows. their eyebrows are normally arched, but they can also be lowly arched which gives them a more feline look, a lioness appereance.

♇ they usually have medium sized heads, with square jaws and pointy chins, and they are women who look good in messy hair, or hair that is curly. straight hair can look good on them but it can sometimes make them look flat, so big or curled hair [along with hair that is tied up that shows their facial structure more] goes well for them.

♇ puffy lips, and when it comes to make-up, they look really good with ombre colours. strong necks and defined collar bones, and they usually have a distinct point on their noise, like the lion nose.

♇ though besides from lions, leo venuses look like kittens in general, even though its the same family, i feel like the venus in specifically in leo women have a more baby faced feline look to them, one that makes them look youthful, they could also have a round head shape, given them a heart-shape as the jaw is sharper than the rest.

extra - lindsay lohan

VIRGO VENUS

KYLIE JENNER, MEGHAN MARKLE AND BELLA HADID

♱ they usually have a long mid face and structure noses, most of them tend to get procedures done to fit into the market/stereotype of what beauty is supposed to be. their jaw usually tends to be soft and then chin sharp, aside from meghan markle.

♱ their eyebrows tend to be pointed and their lower lip tends to be heavier than their upper lip. broad forehead and wide lips, defined cheek bones or they usually define their cheek bones with their make up, specifically blush.

♱ virgo venus women usually look like elves, and their ears are usually defined as well. slender necks and earthy look [specifically due to virgo being an earth sign], are usually women who look very sophisticated. sometimes have the appearance that they just ran through the woods, [can connect to demeter searching for persephone].

♱ women with virgo venuses normally do have pointed eyes, or eyes that are upturned, and the lower whites of their eyes have spaces to them which sometimes make them look like they have sanpaku eyes. they also look amazing with darker hair and with their locks being down.

extra - sophia loren

LIBRA VENUS

JADA PINKETT SMITH, HILLARY DUFF AND CIARA

♇ normally have long faces, or a long nose bridge that makes them look like they have a long face. nice smiles and apple cheeks, a sharp face structure which is a contrast to how libra placements usually look, as they tend to appear more circular, but the libra being in venus gives them a more structured look.

♇ pearly teeth, and sometimes they could even have small teeth. soft eyebrows but full ones. and sometimes they have a surprised look on their faces. defined adams apple and collar bone. sqaure chins and most of them have brownish/hazel eyes.

♇ dewy/glowy skin, the juno/hera impact gives them that, and sometimes they have a lighter under tone. they have sharp eyes that sometimes make them come across as if they're squinting all the time

♇ have hard stares, sometimes they look like they're piercing through your soul, it gives them that cheetah look. like judgement, [the hera impact again]. libra venus women usually have smaller lips, even thought it could still be full, they can still be smaller.

extra - beyonce

SCORPIO VENUS

CARDI B, ANNE HATHEWAY AND DOJA CAT

♱ surprisingly, most of the ones i've seen and researched upon have circular faces, but their faces are long and their cheekbones are strong and defined, and it comes out a lot when they smile.

♱ like the sign they share mars with in traditional astrology, aries venus, a lot of scorpio venuses have strong cupid bows. look really nice when they outline their lips with a brown lip liner, brown and pink combo goes really well with them.

♱ stunning with dark hair, blonde her brightens them a lot, and looks fine on them, but they can also experiment with many hair colours. dark and darty eyes, long nose bridge and most of them usually get cosmetic surgery, as both their modern and traditional ruler indicates cosmetic surgery, there's a stronger indicator when there's much libra energy, as libra is the main sign that governs over cosmetic beauty.

♱ they have a long facial structure, and look really nice with their hair down or up. particularly in a messy updo. they have this dove look, it is normally because of their distinctive or thin nose bridge and their lips being in a lower power of their face. but i think their features are well proportioned.

extra - dakota johnson

SAGITTARIUS VENUS

CHRISTINA AUGELIRA, ALEXA DEMIE AND BILLIE EILISH

♇ have a bigger than life energy, thick/full eyebrows and a long nose bridge. these women usually had a defined nose bridge with a buttoned nose and a very straight hairline that gives them a square head shape. apple cheeks that are prominent and brilliant smiles.

♇ very sultry and inviting eyes, and sometimes it could be piercing. they normally have big foreheads and square jaws and pointy chins. their face features are well spread, and they regularly have straight eyebrows and its low and close to their eyes that sometimes gives them a rough look.

♇ they go well with clothings that are big for them, a big example being billie, but sometimes they might be considered as cultural appropriators, specifically christina and billie.

♇ sagittarius venuses usually have that bohemian look, they look good in both white and black clothing, but also very colourful clothing. like their sister sign, gemini venus. sagittarius venus women are very versatile with their clothing and tend to look like fallen angels.

extra - kendall jenner.

CAPRICORN VENUS

MEGAN THEE STALLION, CINDY CRAWFORD AND TYRA BANKS

♱ evidently, have the model look to them, have a lean or good body figure, and are usually tall. have nice legs and look really good with messy hair, hair that is also layered.

♱ they have boxy jaws and look good in many hair colours, but the hair colours i think suit them the most is black, brown and blonde, as you can see with the women i've put above. they tend to have a shorter faces, or a forehead that could be considered small.

♱ high cheek bones and arched eyebrows. make-up that makes them look like they're glowing pairs well for them. and a classy femme fatale look is an essence they usually display and embody.

♱ capricorn venus women are prone to have very warm eyes, and the tip of their noses are usually distinct, like having a bulbous nose or an upturned one. brown lipped make-up is aesthetically pleasing for them. even though they could be considered as femme fatales, there's still a teddy bear appearance these women have to themselves.

extra - olivia rodrigo

AQUARIUS VENUS

PARIS HILTON, SHARON TATE AND SADE

♇ they look like fairies to me, they have a bigger lower lip compared to their upper lip, and normally the tip of their nose is down turned. and have the type of eyes where it looks like you're looking into their souls.

♇ slender necks and glossy hair and the size of their forehead is regularly large, it gets them more of that other-worldly look. big eyes that usually makes them look sad or makes them look like they can tell a thousand stories.

♇ aquarius venus women [if they dont have strong moon or saturn in their chart], they have very soft cheek bones that gives them a youthful image and a youthful glow. they give more of a cute or refined appearance, and are the type to look nice with shorter hair.

♇ because of their fairy like features, they look very frail and delicate, as if they're brittle glass. aquarius venus women age very well too, particularly with the saturnian influence in their chart.

extra - elizabeth olsen

PISCES VENUS

LILY COLLINS, ELLE FANNING AND ROSE HUNTINGON WHITLEY

♱ i dont mean this in a mean way, but pisces venus women look like adorable cows, i've said this before in the ascendant and their beauty post about pisces ascendant women, but it is likely because their eyebrows are very low down their foreheads and they normally tend to have full, thin and straight eyebrows that gives them that cow look.

♱ but they dont only look like cute baby cows, they also have this baby doll, particularly because their features a prone to be in the middle, [or you can say having a heavy mid face].

♱ they also look good in hair styles that cover their face, [chiefly the side of their faces]. middle parts suit them really well, [and side parts, chiefly if they're going for a classy look, for example, lily collins when she did the audrey hepburn photoshoot].

♱ like aquarius venuses, pisces venus women usually look very slender and delicate. and layered hair compliments them, it captures their face frame well, gives their faces a more lean look as most of their face shapes are square and they have very strong jaws. most hairstyles with their hair down look good on them.

extra - quenlin blackwell

masterlist

[mrsbarnesblog]

first choice

masterlist

requests are open

summary: being an incredibly reserved person, it took Rafe a long time to finally feel comfortable enough to let you see him break down

words count: 2.5k

warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, talk about feelings, Ward being a shitty father as always, insecurities

a/n: couldn't help myself but mention Wheezie as well because she deserves so much better💔

The first time you saw Rafe crying was not so long after you started dating. You went to Tanneyhill that day and were nearly knocked off your feet when Ward Cameron stormed out the front door. He was seething with anger and it seemed like he didn’t even register you standing there with wide eyes and a lost face expression. 

You slowly walked into the house, hearing the sound of Ward’s truck driving away, and slowly patted into the light and big kitchen. Your eyes instantly caught sight of your boyfriend, standing with his back facing you and his body hovering over the counter. His hands were firmly gripping onto the edge of the marble, and his head was lowered so you couldn’t take a look at his face behind his hair. When you heard muffled sniffs, your eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“Rafe?” You almost whispered, talking one step closer to him. Rafe’s body instantly tensed, but he didn’t turn around. His shoulders and back seemed harder than rocks, and you swore his body was shaking from tension. 

You debated for a few seconds, considering what was best to do. Something obviously had happened between Rafe and Ward, and even though they always fought, you never saw Rafe crying. You quickly figured out that he didn’t like to be seen as "weak,” so he rarely showed any emotions, even to you, no matter how hard you tried to create a comfortable environment for him. That’s why you knew that there was no point in trying to make him talk.

When he sniffed again, not moving for an inch or acknowledging your presence, your heart clenched and not waiting anymore, you slowly went closer to him. 

When he felt your arms wrapping around his middle part with your chest firmly pressed against his back, his whole body stiffened at the unusual touch. Rafe had never had someone comforting him, and the whole thing with you constantly trying to go past his walls slightly terrified him. He desperately wanted to just give in, because Rafe knew that you would never hurt him, but something inside his head was still fighting against it.

You held him as close to you as possible, hoping to give him some sense of security. When Rafe’s body finally eased up a little, you turned your head to place kisses on his back while your hands moved up and down his stomach. 

You didn’t know how long you two were standing like this—close to each other and in complete silence. Rafe clearly didn’t want to talk about it and you knew better than to push him. It was a small step for both of you, but you knew that you would do anything to make him feel safe.

The second time it happened, you were in Rafe’s bed, too invested in your book, when he entered the room. Your gaze shifted to him and you instantly noticed that slightly distant look in his blue eyes, as well as his clenched jaw and rapid breathing. 

You were trying not to be very obvious by the way your instant reaction was to jump out of bed and ask what happened. Rafe was not this type of person and he needed gentle handling. So you went back to your book, only lifting your eyes every few seconds while he silently changed his clothes to something comfortable. 

“I want to cuddle.” You suddenly said, placing a bookmark in between the pages and putting your book on the bedside table. Rafe just looked at you and it felt like your eyes were having their own conversation. He knew that you knew that something had happened and were now just trying to make it seem like you were the one who needed affection, and he was thankful for you not trying to get the information out of him.

He nodded, and the next thing you knew, he was on top of you, arms wrapped around your body, face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers started to brush through his hair and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

The room was silent, except for your quiet breathing; that’s why your ears easily caught a soft sniff. Rafe moved his head back and forth, trying to be closer even if it was impossible, and it made you feel something wet touching your skin. You didn't say a word because you knew that it was not the right time yet. Instead, you left one hand in his hair to massage the scalp and moved another one to Rafe’s back, rubbing it up and down. You let your lips brush against his temple and he tightened his hold on your waist in return.

You didn't know what had happened and you hoped that he would tell you when he felt like it, so for now, you were just giving him the safe space that he desperately needed. It clearly worked, because as Rafe’s body became limp on top of yours and his breathing started to slow down, you guessed that he had fallen asleep. 

The next morning, you were standing in the kitchen and making breakfast when you felt two hands sneaking around your waist and turning you around. Before you could say anything, Rafe gave you a breath-taking kiss, which you knew was his way of saying "thank you."

At one of Friday’s evenings, you and Rafe’s family and a few closest friends were having a dinner in the restaurant to celebrate Ward’s important deal at work being finally successfully signed. You honestly didn’t listen to the conversation that everyone was having, looking down at your almost full plate, until Ward and Sarah started a little argument about him doing something that she didn’t like. 

“It also turns out that the most important thing for me is you, Sarah. That’s why I did it.” Your heart skipped a beat when your ears caught the end of the conversation, with your whole body freezing in your chair. He said it so easily, not even hesitating or considering the feelings of his other kids, who sat at that exact table. 

Rafe sat near you and your eyes instantly drifted to him, only t just a blank expression on his face. He looked at his father, then at Sarah, then back at Ward. The disappointment and hurt were written all over his features. It was so obvious for you, probably because you spent so much time trying to figure out him and his emotions, yet his father didn’t care. 

Nobody did, honestly, as everyone at the table just brushed that comment off and continued talking. Only Wheezie looked equally sad, with a frown and with her hands crossed over her chest. 

Rafe’s eyes drifted to his full plate as he became completely distant from the conversation, not even paying attention to your worried gaze. He just felt numb. 

It's not like he didn't know that Sarah was everyone’s priority; he just didn't need to hear another reminder of that. 

He hated the feeling of not being good enough. He tried to impress his father countless times, being loyal and jumping at every opportunity to do the dirty work, just to hear any kind of praise or approval. Yet Sarah has always been the best girl, the best daughter, and the best child. 

A quiet groan escaped his lips in desperation, as he felt that similar tightness in his chest and throat. 

It just fucking hurt. 

Your worried eyes didn’t leave him even for a second, and when you noticed in which state he was in, you moved closer so only he could hear what you were saying. 

“Do you want to leave, Ray?” He just nodded, taking your hand in his and making some lame excuse about needing to leave. 

Sitting in his truck a few minutes later, Rafe didn’t even look at you, staring at something through the window. You saw the way he was occasionally clenching his jaw and blinking rapidly—signs that he was trying not to break down in front of you. 

You bit your lip, thinking to yourself, before finally deciding that you couldn’t just look at your boyfriend being hurt. So, tossing your purse aside, you got up from your seat, moving quickly to straddle Rafe’s lap. He looked at you in shock, but still placed his hands on your waist, rubbing the soft fabric. 

“Hey, look at me. You don’t have to keep it to yourself. Your feelings are normal, baby.” You tried to reassure him, holding his face firmly in your hands. 

He furrowed. “It’s just— It’s just that—“ Rafe paused, looking down and trying to control his breathing. You didn’t know whether it was anger or sadness, but as his chest started rising faster, in the darkness of the car, you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. 

Then another, and another, and another. 

Rafe tried to physically distance himself from you, pulling your hands away from his face and throwing his head back with a frustrated groan as the palms of his hands pressed into his eyes. 

“That’s fucking’ pathetic.” He hissed.

“No, it’s not. Stop trying to hide from me and just talk. You know I’m the last person to ever judge you.” You soothed him by softly caressing the skin of his neck with your thumbs, and then took a hold of his face to make him look at you. “Talk to me. It’s just us and no one else.” 

Rafe’s blue eyes seemed even brighter with tears gleaming in them, even though it was dark outside and the only light that you had was a lamppost near the restaurant. He gave you a long look, probably fighting his own barriers inside of his head because of how hard it was for him to open up. You waited patiently, not looking away or rushing him and it must’ve worked.

“The shit that he says and does… It hurts me. No matter how much I try, how much effort I put into everything, or how often I do what he needs and wants, it’s never enough. I’m never fucking good enough for anyone or anything.” You took Rafe’s hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. He instantly focused on it, mindlessly playing with your ring and rubbing your skin. “And I don’t hate Sarah—fuck, I really don’t, ‘cause it’s not her damn fault, y’know? But it makes me so fucking mad and-and I just don’t know what to do or what’s wrong with me.” 

Angry tears continued to flow down Rafe’s cheeks freely, as he was not capable of trying to hide them and wipe them away quickly anymore. You looked at him softly, with your heart aching for your boyfriend and for the way this situation deeply affected him. 

“He does this to Wheezie too. She’s a child, Y/N, and I know how it messes up with her head.” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling. “Sometimes... sometimes I feel like I fuck up everything in my life. I think that maybe it’s my fault for him to act like that. Maybe I do something wrong, I dunno.”

“I know that I can't give you what Ward was supposed to give you. That type of love, I mean. But you’re important to me, Rafe. I won't put you in second place because you're always my first choice.” You freed your hands, again placing them on his wet cheeks. Big blue eyes stared back at you with vulnerability and despair as hands on each of your thighs tightened, so you tried to let Rafe know how much he meant to you. “You are good enough, and don’t you dare think otherwise.” 

You leaned closer, hovering over Rafe’s body, just inches away from his face, before tenderly pulling him into a kiss. 

“You shouldn’t let Ward ruin your life and your relationships with your sisters, because it won’t benefit you in any way. Ward is the problem, not you, Ray, so no matter how hard you try, he won’t change his mind.” You kiss away his tears, still firmly holding his face in your hands. “I’m here for you. I love you, and I hate seeing you kill yourself over this.”

Rafe suddenly pulled you closer by your waist, hugging you with all the strength that he had. His body trembled against you while you soothingly scratched the back of his neck. 

“I love you too. ‘M sorry f’ being a mess.” 

“Don’t say that. Everything is okay, we are okay. I’m happy that you finally opened up to me a little bit, because I support you, okay?” He nodded and kissed your naked shoulder, trying to catch his breath. 

“Thank you.” 

A few minutes later, Rafe’s breathing calmed down and his hands were just slowly going up and down your back. Your legs were already sore from your position on his lap, but it was peaceful with just you two sitting in a comfortable silence, so you didn’t mind. You looked up at him as the idea came to your head. "What if we take Wheezie away from there and go out to eat or ride around?" 

Rafe placed a kiss on your forehead, thinking about your words. His and Wheezie’s relationships were weird, with Rafe feeling distant from his family and her just being a child who didn't know how to handle the situation. But he always had a soft spot for her and he hated thinking about his sister sitting there and being invisible to everybody. 

“Yeah, we can. She’d like that.” He mumbled, focusing on your lips that curled into a smile. 

“Great!” You pushed away from him, opening the door and casually sliding on the floor. Rafe looked at you curiously, silently grateful that you were absolutely normal about what happened just a few minutes ago in his car. His heart suddenly raced, and he could not resist the urge to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a kiss. 

Rafe connected your lips, then slightly tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your skin got covered in goosebumps as you smiled against his lips before pulling away. Rafe subconsciously followed your face, trying to get more. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing. So gorgeous. I love you so much, baby.”

“You already told me that… but I love you more!” You giggled, taking his hands away from your body. “Now I’ll go get Wheezie, and you remove my lipstick from your face.” You gave him a teasing smile before finally going back to the restaurant and leaving Rafe with a soft smirk on his lips. 

He thought that maybe opening up for you was working much better in his favor than he expected. 

[bunnys-kisses]

daughter dearest

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut/pwp, implied age gap, price's daughter!reader, daddy kink & daddy issues, simon still works under price, doggy style, hair pulling, a tiny bit of choking, manhandling

bunny says: good girls end up in heaven, bad girls end up with simon

he was so handsome in that sleek black car of his. with the tinted windows, you could see that he was in the driver's side as there was a bit of cigarette smoke coming out from the open window.

you were quick to get out of the house that you lived with your father. you had a night bag over your shoulder. in a cute little skirt and an even cuter top. you were the beloved daughter of captain john price.

but tonight, you were simon's good girl.

you and simon started up a "relationship" around the christmas party last year. it was harmless flirting. he was stubborn and you got right under his skin. of course this ended with him tossing you into the back of a jeep on base and fucking you until you couldn't even form your own name.

since then you've been simon's pretty little thing with an age gap to raise an eyebrow out.

the drive to his flat wasn't long, but the entire time under the cover of night, he had his large hand on your thigh. he palmed at the skin and muscle. his fingers dug into them, which made you whimper from his strength.

scary.

but simon would never hurt you. even as he kept a protective hand on your lower back. his lips were on your neck with you pinned against the wall of the elevator. only to pull away when the doors opened to let in more people.

there was little formalities when you both got through the front door of the flat. even as you tried to undo the laces of your shoes, simon was over you with his large hands on your hips and his cock up against your ass.

"you dog." you whined as you managed to get them off.

when you were standing back upright, you felt the strength of your boyfriend's chest against your back. then soon his strong hand was loosely around your throat.

you whimpered.

"whatcha call me, princess?"

you whimpered, 'sorry, daddy." you didn't want to hear about the long stretched of absences your father did when you were going up made you seek out older men to pleasure you. you didn't care to know!

he held your throat for a moment then leaned in to kiss your jaw, "good girl. i'd hate to take you through training again."

your daddy issues to culminate into a bratty attitude, especially around base. simon had to 'train' you, which meant everything from spanking to time outs. it meant having cum covered panties and giving his head in public bathrooms. you'd behave, simon hated brats.

he always felt the need to break 'em.

you were a good girl for him, most of the time. so when he picked you up like you weighed as much as a bag of potatoes and tossed you on the bed in the bedroom.

you bounced on the bed before simon was on you, he pulled at the clothes on your body. you managed to get your phone out of your pocket before he started to almost rip your clothes off your body! you felt your cheeks heat up from the feeling. you were stripped bear and grabbed by the hair.

he gave it a good yank and you felt wetness between your legs. you felt like such a whore, but part of you loved when being strong men used you to their pleasing.

"your daddy isn't going to like when i bring you home and ya got cum runnin' down your leg. when ya walk a lil weird and can't sit down. make sure your old man knows what i've been fuckin' his sweet little princess."

you whimpered as you ended up on your hands and knees with your ass in the air. your core throbbed as he got his cock out his thick black jeans. it was a hefty cock. thick all over with breeding balls.

his cock was shoved without much prep into your slick hole. you jumped but his larger body kept you pinned to the bed. his cock felt like a heavy weight between your legs.

your buried your head in the pillows and arched your back. you entire body felt amazing from the feeling of his thrusts. your cunt ached with want for your boyfriend.

"that's my good girl. see, maybe m captain is right. maybe he does have the most perfect daughter in the world." simon's words were harsh but they made you warm all over.

"daddy please." you moaned as you felt him slap you across the ass. your body felt hot all over as he continued to fuck you. this wasn't sex, this was fucking. he was pushing all of his length, stuffing you full of him.

so you'd know when you gave your old man a hug, that a piece of simon was still in you.

you'd be a riley soon enough.

"please, ah! please!" you whined.

"i got ya, princess." his pace was brutal, it almost brought tears to your eyes. it made your stomach twist and your cunt soaked.

you soon could hear your phone ringing on the nightstand, but simon's cock had made it impossible for you to find the strength to grab it.

"who's that, love?" simon asked in a gruff voice, "is that your old man callin'? better pick up." he held you by the waist and leaned over you to grab it. it was still ringing.

you took it with weak hands and answered it, "hi, daddy." you tried to keep your voice steady but the way your core was throbbing from simon's heavy thrusts.

"where are ya?" your old man asked.

"oh! remember, i told you i was staying with a friend tonight." you tried not to moan or seem like something was off. your father was painfully smart, it was hard to get anything past him.

"right, right. that girl you go to school with? tiffany? rachel?"

your voice was a little tight when you replied, "andrea." you felt simon pull at your hair which almost made you cry out, but you just had to keep it together for a little while longer.

"right, right. well, ya got a ride home to come home?"

you swallowed and bent to simon's will, "yes, daddy. i'll be home around 2!" you squeezed your eyes shut

there was a pause, "are you alright, sweetheart? sound a little sick."

you grit your teeth for a moment, could the old man just stop yapping? you replied, "no, daddy. i think i'm just really tired. we- we went for a hike earlier, just worn out!"

simon gave a silent chuckle as he continued to thrust, worn out was right. he wanted to slap your ass, but you were squirming enough as it was.

"alright, i'll see ya tomorrow. remember to come home early enough so we can have dinner together. love ya."

'love you too, daddy." you voice cracked a little as you felt yourself on the edge of your orgasm. you hung up the phone and you looked over your shoulder, but simon pushed your head back into the pillows to fuck you into the mattress.

"that's a good girl." simon growled, "i know he's your father, but i'm your daddy." he bruised your hips with his feverish pace.

you arched your back and clutched onto the covers tightly. your head was pounding as you felt the pulse of warmth through your body. your mind was a mantra of his name. "fuck, daddy!"

simon chuckled and slammed his hand down on your ass, "that's what i like to see, princess. i love how you feel against me. tight cunt, thick thighs, chubby hips, my fuckin' dream."

you whimpered as you tensed up. you climaxed and as you reached your peak. everything else went dark in your head before you ended up face first in his soft bed. the smell of your lover was polluting your head as he had you bouncing on his cock.

"now that's a good girl." simon purred, "now let's give this cunt what she be needin'." with a few more jolts of his hips, he finished inside of you. his cum spat into the back of your womb with purpose.

he wanted to see it leak out all over your pretty pink panties come morning. but that might take a few more rounds.

"look alive, princess." he said as he tapped your face a little harder than you liked, "not done with ya, yet."

but you had all night.

-

the next morning, you came home and greeted your father with a kiss on the cheek and a cheery smile. when you went upstairs, price though he caught the glimpse of a bruise on the back of your thigh, right where your skirt ended.

but he looked away rather quickly and crossed his arms. he said, "glad ya had fun, sweetheart!" he was a supportive father, he loved you! you were his beautiful daughter.

little did he know that under your skirt was two large purple hand prints from his trusted lieutenant. <3

[nanaslutt]

thinking about itsuomi….

ʚ cont: fem reader, dry humping, praise, he talks you thought it, itsuomi is the greenest flsg, soft soft soft soft

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

you wrapped your legs tighter around Itsuomi’s waist, trying to resist the urge to roll your hips against his crotch as he kissed you, his hands grabbing the sides of your waist, squeezing your skin tighter every so often.

his body felt so hot against yours, making your skin burn even hotter with desire. he kissed you slowly, passionately, making you really feel every inch of his lips against yours. your chest touched his every time you inhaled, trying to keep your breaths quiet and devoid of whimpers that so desperately wanted to escape.

you hadn’t noticed, too consumed in focusing on the silver haired man’s lips, but you had been squirming against him for a while now, too aroused and overwhelmed with how good this all felt. itsuomi pulled back from your lips, his lidded eyes taking over your face, your lips parted and swollen from the kiss, eyes cloudy, as you looked at him patiently, waiting for his next move.

“do you want to stop?” he asked, his voice coming out soft as he tipped his head at you. you felt your face heat up, never having had someone be so gentle with you before. you shook your head, squeezing your legs around his to emphasize your words.

“okay,” he responded, a barely there smile cracking the corner of his lips before he leaned his face back down. you expected to feel his lips on yours again, but you were instead met with the plushness of his lips on your neck, softly kissing right over your pulse point.

you were unable to hold back the gasp that left your lips, your hand immediately coming up to press against your mouth, a preventative measure to make sure no more embarrassing sounds left your lips. itsuomi pulled back for a moment, his lips just grazing your skin before he spoke, “You don’t have to hold back your voice, same goes for your hips.” he said, exposing you.

you felt a rush of heat burn your face, making you tip your head in the direction opposite from him. “I want to make you feel good, if you need to move, move. I’ll do it with you if you’re too shy, okay?” he said sweetly, pressing another kiss to your pulse point.

Itsuomi watched from the crook of your neck as your eyebrows pinched together before you nodded shyly, your hand pulling back from your mouth, slowly dropping back down onto his shoulder.

you allowed yourself to relax against him when you felt his kisses on your neck turn to sucks, his warm, wet tongue caressing your skin between his lips. you were met with the shallow, slow thrust of his hips against yours, making you gasp again, a sound you tried not to feel too embarrassed about since Itsuomi had told you to let go.

he experimentally thrust against you again, a bit harder this time, making you suck a breath in between your teeth. “feels good?” he whispered between sucks against your neck. “mhm..” you responded quietly, feeling that same familiar throbbing intensify between your thighs.

itsuomi picked up his pace a bit, finding a rhythm as he rutted his hips against yours. you could feel something prominent and hard pressing right against your cunt, making you feel dizzy. you knew what that feeling was. just knowing Itsuomi was as aroused as you were was driving you crazy.

“move your hips back against me, you can do it.” he encouraged, one of his hands sliding down your waist and landing on your hip. his fingers curled behind your lower back as he pulled your hips against him, helping you out.

he released a breathy moan against your neck when you gave in and let yourself move against him, humping your cunt on his crotch when he rubbed himself into you. “just like that.” he praised, picking his head up from the crook of your neck.

you looked like you were being fucked for real, your jaw open as whimpers steadily fell out as his hard boner rubbed against your clothed clit, eyes fluttering in your head, eyebrows scrunched together.

you hummed against his lips when he connected them once more, the kiss a little needier now as he pulled your leg over his hip, making you wrap your legs around his back. you felt yourself gush when his tongue poked against your lips, asking for permission. you opened them more against him, letting his warm tongue enter your mouth and tangle with yours.

breathy moans were being pushed out of your mouth and into his by his hips rutting against you, his cock straining in his pants against you making you feel hotter and hotter with each thrust. you did your best to move your tongue with his, but his quickly overpowered yours as he explored every inch of your mouth.

you cracked your eyes open and noticed how red his face looked, even being so close to yours. his eyebrows were pinched together slightly, twitching every so often when he thrust against you, making his cock rub against the inside of his boxers just right.

Itsuomi swore he could feel how hot you were between your thighs through all the layers of fabric. he wanted so badly to just pull down your panties and stretch you open on his fingers while he sucked your clit into his mouth, but he knew he had to be patient.

Itsuomi was shocked out of his little daydream when your body tightened around him, your hips wiggling more and more, begging for friction against your clit. were you close? just from a little dry humping? Itsuomi pressed himself against you and rolled his hips in circles, making his bulge rub your clit around through your clothes, just like he would do with his fingers.

your lips started to slow against his as kissing him back proved to be harder and harder the closer you got to finishing. you tapped repeatedly on his shoulder, trying to get him to let up a bit so you didn’t cum in your pants.

“it’s okay, you’re gonna cum aren’t you?” he asked between kisses, not slowing his hips once even as he spoke. “you can cum, i got you.” he whispered, making you head feel fuzzy and warm. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tighter, bracing yourself.

itsuomi wasn’t quite there yet, but he was alright with edging himself if it meant he got to watch you cum. there would be plenty of times in the future he would be able to cum, he wasn’t greedy.

he watched in awe with a slightly opened mouth as your lips detached from his, your eyes fully falling shut, squeezing together tightly. “there you go, good girl.” he whispered as your body shook against his, your abdomen curling into him as your orgasm hit you.

it felt so fucking good as he worked you through it with his hips, rubbing you just the way you needed with his boner. your gasps and cries as you came were like music to his ears, he could feel himself drip pre cum into his boxers just from listening to you.

when you came down he immediately started pressing kisses to your hot cheeks, his hands brushing the stray hairs from your face. “good job, felt good right?” he asked, smiling at you with that usual smirk of his. you nodded, still a little out of it as you looked away, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

“heh, i know. promise i’ll make you feel that again. over and over, as many times as you want.” he said, his words making your face burn furiously. you nodded and pushed his shoulders away, trying to hide. itsuomi giggled and separated his body from yours, sitting on the side of the bed as he played with your inner thigh.

“cmon, gotta get you cleaned up. i’ll run you a bath.” he said, his head tipping in the direction of the bathroom. you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at the very obvious boner in his pants. itsuomi caught your gaze and pulled his t-shirt down over his cock, doing little to conceal it. “don’t worry about me, it’ll go down on its own.”

you felt bad he didn’t get to cum, but he seemed adamant in his words. next time, you would be sure to make him cum too. you nodded and let him scoop you into his arms as he walked you to the bathroom.

itsuomi wasn’t worried in the slightest about his little problem. he already planned to take care of it in his room while you soaked in the bath anyways, using the image of you orgasming on him as material to jerk off. the scene replaying over and over in his head on repeat.

[mattybsgroupie]

pretty | matt sturniolo

contents: established relationship; handjob (m receiving); praising; use of “y/n”; sub!matt

- ♡ -

notes: i woke up insanely horny and ive been thinking about matt all week and how much i want to take care of him, praise him, give all the love and care he needs :( it’s a really short one but i hope you enjoy - not proofread as usual, also i made a pinned post so yall might wanna check it out ♡

- ♡ -

“y/n” i heard matt calling, snapping me out of my thoughts. we were laying down on the couch, my head resting on his shoulder as we scrolled mindlessly on our phones “do you think i’m pretty?”

“what?” i said, completely caught off guard. “what do you mean matt?”

“like… i know i’m not the funniest or smartest guy but i always thought i was good looking” he started, locking his phone screen and tossing it away “but you know what i’m talking about, you saw it didn’t you?”

of course i did - and he was right being beyond pissed by it.

“babe, you are the funniest and the smartest guy i know” i moved myself, now being able to fully face him as i cupped his cheeks, a pout appearing on matt’s lips. “you’re also the toughest” i said, kissing him playfully as he giggled.

“the strongest…” i whispered in his ear, my fingertips traveling through his neck “the hottest” i couldn’t help but kissing his jaw as i said it, his growing beard tickling my skin. “you’re the most handsome, babe”

“you want me to show how pretty you are?” i finally stopped the kisses, my left hand pressing on his tummy under the white shirt he was wearing. my digits kept on running down matt’s body, caressing every inch of skin i could get.

“you don’t have to” he smiled, putting a strand of hair behind my ear and fixing the mess my hair was after spending the whole night against the couch. “don’t be silly”

“i’m not!” i frowned my eyebrows and widened my eyes, staring at him before landing by his waistband, tent starting to show on his pants.

“and i dont think this guy think it’s silly, does he?” i joked about how sensitive matt was, getting worked up from the slightest praise. he rolled his eyes, pretending not to notice.

“shall we take this off?” i asked, tugging the cloth away. matt’s attitude broke down in a second, nodding eagerly as he lift his hips, allowing me to pull his pants down. with his half-hard cock exposed, i then touched the hem of his shirt, silently asking for permission.

matt quickly understood and removed his last piece of clothing, totally naked. i smiled before kissing him, matt’s embarrassment completely washing away and being replaced by desperation. his palms met my covered breasts, massaging it before i pulled away from the kiss, my lips focused on marking his neck. i could hear matt’s breathing getting heavier, grip on my boobs getting stronger.

“yes, good boy” i cooed, receiving a muffled groan in response. “huh? what is it baby, you like being my good boy?”

“y-yeah, fuck” matt said, covering his eyes with his forearm, once again getting shy. i gently removed it, making him look at me in the eyes.

“look at this, how pretty you are, hm?” i said, now staring at his full hard-on, matt’s dick almost slapping on his belly “i love your tattoos, have i told you that?” i tried to distract him while my hand brushed over his cock, barely touching it. “makes you look even tougher”

“i’m not tough- ah!” he whined as i cupped his balls, slightly caressing them.

“i can tell, babe” i giggled, “can i?”

“please” he begged, puppy eyes watering “touch me, please”

“how can you say you’re not pretty? i want you to keep looking, babe. be a good boy for me alright?” i commanded, my fingers wrapping around matt’s length, slowly starting to pump him. “look at your cock, i cant barely close my fist, you’re so big” i kissed his collarbones as i praised him, making sure he kept his eyes on my hand jerking him off. matt twitched inside my fist, holding his hips from bucking forward.

“love that huge cock inside of me matt, you stretch me so well” i moved thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as i circled it. “oh, you’re already leaking?” i said, seeing how wet he was just from me fastening my pace.

“shit y/n i’m sorry i-” i shushed him, “shhh, i don’t wanna hear anything other than your moans”. matt gave up on trying to hold his sounds, lower lip finally getting a break after being bitten for the last ten minutes. his free hand went to my thigh, nails digging strong into my skin. his whines turned to whimpers, spasms taking over his body.

“what is it babe? wanna cum?” i asked, “i will only let you if you repeat what i say” he turned his head aside, looking at me eagerly. “i’m pretty”.

“y/n… c’mon, f-fuck” matt rolled his eyes, embarrassment preventing him to speak out loud. i gradually stopped the movements with my hand - matt knew he had to say it if he wanted to cum. “i-im… pretty”

“i’m so strong” i started pumping him once again, tightening my grip around his length.

“i’m so strong” matt repeated, not so shy anymore. “what else are you baby?”

“i’m… handsome” it sounded like a question, as if he wanted me to reassure he was right. “and i’m… a good boy”.

“yes, yes you are, sweetie” i cooed, knowing his aching cock wasn’t gonna let him form any other sentences. “gonna cum for me?”

“can i? please?” i clenched my eyes, letting him speak. “please c-cum for you, need it so bad”. i nodded and heard his whimpers as he finally relaxed his body, white ropes of cum from his release covering my fist and his lower belly, matt’s chest rising as he panted heavily. i finally got back to my former position, head resting on his shoulder as matt came back to his senses and i kept on praising him on how good he was.

“you did so good for me”

“thank you” matt said under his breath, a smiling finally appearing on his blushed face. “am i really everything you said? even the funniest?” he giggled, soon hovering his arm over my shoulder, grabbing me on a hug as i made myself comfortable in his embrace.

“yes you are, matthew!” i rolled my eyes before giving in and laughing with him, relieved that the only thing my boy needed was a reminder on how pretty he was.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler

[papaya-twinks]

mess around - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+, oral (male receiving), fingering, praise/degradation kink

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando’s lil photo dump on insta sends Y/N a ‘little’ feral

A/N: @norr1ssturni0lo sheheuuwjwjnsjkeowe I’m not alright sjiwnajqiwikwkqlqkmwmww

“Nice post, Lando,” you hummed, eyes on your phone as your boyfriend beside you looked up, “you can delete it now,”. A confused noise escaped his lips, making you look up. “What? Why?” he asked, probably thinking the photo was bad. “Coz,” you shrugged, “I’ve seen it, no one else needs to,”. He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Is that so?” he asked, slowly tugging your phone out your hand. “Yep. Doesn’t need to be there anymore,” you blinked.

“Why? Jealous?” he asked, the cockiness in his voice was evident. “That other girls could be staring, hm?” he grinned as your cheeks flushed, his hands reaching for your wrists as he pulled you onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs. “You know this is is all yours,” his lips trailed across your jawline, your hands on his shoulder as you hummed softly. “Don’t want them undressing you with their eyes,” you mumbled, his teeth tugging at your lips.

“I’m shirtless, angel, they can’t,” Lando raised an eyebrow, making you huff. “Down,” you said, making him shake his head, curls bouncing. “Then what about you actually undress me?” he smirked, your eyes wide, fingers freezing at the hem of his shirt. “Up,” he said, nudging your arms upwards so he could remove your top, your tits bouncing as his arm reached round your chest, unbuckling your bra.

You hummed, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his joggers, his hands coming onto your wrist. “Impatient,” he tutted, bucking his hips into yours so you could remove the clothing, wow, he wasn’t even wearing boxers. His semi-hard cock sprang against your stomach, Lando’s hand coming onto the back of your head, bunching your hair into his hand, before sliding the hair tie off his wrist. Anyone who thought he kept it on his wrist as a little memoir or something was severely wrong.

With a little push, he had you on your knees between his legs, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping slowly, his eyes widening. “Y/N,” he hissed, your tongue pressing on his slit, the tip red and swollen as you felt him harden. Your lips wrapped around him, hand sliding up and down his length as his eyes rolled slightly, hand coming to the back of your head. “Mmmm, good,” he muttered, pushing you down slightly so his head hit the back of your throat.

“None of those girls get this, though, do they?” Lando asked, clearly not expecting a response as he lifted you off, letting your breathe before pushing you down again. “Only you get this,” he added, sliding you off, your hand still pumping him, before he lifted you onto his lap once more, lifting your skirt and pushing your panties aside. “Little jealous, aren’t we?” he switched places with you so he was between your legs, one hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles, the other slide between your soaking folds as you stifled your moans.

“Bet they’d love for me to do this,” he grinned, sliding his middle finger into you without warning, the coldness of his ring against your opening sending you crazy. “Lando,” you jaw dropped as he smirked, pushing the pad of his index finger beside the first. “Lando,” you repeated, hand on his shoulder as he removed his top, with one hand, his chains dangling against his bare chest.

You gasped - feeling his fingers slowly part inside of you, a scissoring motion, almost. “Lando!” you moaned, back arching slightly before your eyes opened, realising he’d pulled out of you, a small smirk on his face. His hand slid onto your waist, lifting you slightly so he could place you onto his lap against, his cock against your stomach, his head against the armrest. You gasped, feeling him press against your opening, before sliding you down onto him, his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Lando, fuck,” you gasped, hands coming to his shoulders as he held your waist, letting you bounce slowly, a groan escaping his lip. “Fuck, Y/N, doing so well,” he hummed, holding you still so he could buck his hips into you, your gasps against his shoulder as your head lolled slightly. “Jealous, hm?” Lando asked, tilting your head up as your cheeks turned red, “don’t want other girls seeing this?”. You nodded, it was true, you didn’t want anyone to see him in ways that only you wanted to.

“Do any of them get this?” he grinned, purposefully slamming his hips into your, making the knot in you build up quicker, eyes shining. “Yeah, gonna cum, hm?” he asked, hand coming to your cheek as you nodded, his other hand u doing the hair tie softly. “Like that, do you?” Lando continued, bouncing your body onto him, your eyes rolling as you felt yourself release, his jaw dropping at your face, cheeks dusted with a featherlight pink tinge.

You were beautiful. “Fuck, Y/N,” he cursed, feeling himself follow after, your head on his chest as he slipped out, spilling onto both of your thighs. “Shit,” he groaned, chest heaving as his hand tangled in your hair. Neither of you moved nor said anything, too caught up in the moment as your finger grazed across his skin. “Seventeen,” you mumbled, making him look down, a small frown on his face. “What was that?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Seventeen,” you repeated, “you have seventeen moles,” you said, pressing onto one of them softly. “You counted my moles?” he laughed, watching you flush slightly. “Yeah,” you shrugged. “Well no one else sees this one,” he lifted your body to the side, making you giggle as he pointed out the one on his upper thigh. “Eighteen,”.

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day one: Thigh riding!

cw: thigh riding, dry humping, reader is bratty, mention of food and eating, mentions of spanking, mentions of oral sex, public sex, mention of horror films, mention of male and female masturbation, dominant Simon, breast play, reader and Simon have banter (he isnt just a nob)

Simon Riley who had never really cared or enjoyed going out to the cinema. So what a new movie you want to see has come out- are you that impatient, you can’t wait and watch it home but instead spend a stupid amount of money on overpriced popcorn and drinks just to be in front of a big screen? And not only that but surrounded by other people who are chewing- rustling sweet packets and slurping on their straws- laughing loudly at moments that aren’t even funny and sitting way too close to each other? No, he absolutely hated it.

“Simon please! I’ve been wanting to watch this horror film ever since they revealed it was being made! Please can we go?” You’d asked him, eyes almost glossy with tears from how hard you’d been begging him. Your shoulders slumped and eyes full of hope when he throws his head back with a sigh, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

It was date night after all, the two of you usually did something romantic together. The idea of date night was perfect at first, you’d gone bowling, star gazing, played card games, you’d even roped him into a karaoke night somehow- but now it was usually a nice meal out before coming home and fucking for hours. Now don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t complaining about it, the food was usually good and the sex was incredible but it could get a bit repetitive. A change could be nice- even if he hated it.

“Fine but get a seat in the corner at the back. I don’t want to be near people.” He grumbled as he opened up his phone, finding the website and passing it over for you to book. You whined, throwing your head back in annoyance like a spoiled fucking brat and Simons jaw clicked. If he wasn’t so irritated by the fact he was being forced to go to the cinema, he’d stand up and make you lean against the wall. His hand spanking your behind so hard it would leave a hand print because you know better than to act like this. You know better than to act like a child.

“But Simon! We won’t even be able to see the screen! No one ever sits at the back!” He looked up at you, his eyes darker than the sky outside, as he crossed his arms, biceps pretty much spewing out of his t-shirt as he stared, coldly, at you.

He was already pissed off you were wasting money to go see something you could watch together. Curled up on the sofa, in a warm blanket as he passes you a warm hot drink he’d made. There was no way you could convince him to sit in a middle seat surrounded by other people. He blinked slowly, waiting for you to speak but you just turned away.

Huffing as you booked the seats in the far left corner, last row and turned back around. You passed him his phone back before you ran upstairs to slip on some decent clothes. Changing out of your pyjamas and into something comfortable, pulling your hair up and out the way before rushing back down stairs to find your shoes. Simon looked you up and down, his eyebrows furrowed at your outfit and you froze.

“What?” You asked but his eyes remained on your body before slowly looking up and locking eyes with yours. It was clear there was something on his mind from how focused he was on you, how he was trying to read your every move, looking away quickly and back to his phone.

“You not going to get ready?” He asked and you let out a small laugh. Was he actually serious? Did he think that you were going to come running down the stairs in a long red cocktail dress, makeup done to the nines, heels and a matching handbag to watch a horror movie in a cinema? You shook your head, slipping into your trainers as you spoke.

“It’s a cinema Simon, not a formal event. You need to be comfy in order to enjoy the film. Do I nod look good?” His eyes fell down you again and fuck, how could he allow you to go out dressed like this? Your thighs looked perfect in your tight black leggings, they sculpted and shaped your figure so well and that baggy grey hoodie which was originally his made you look incredible. As much as you suited long beautiful dresses, makeup and hair, you dressed so effortlessly made it impossible for him not to chub up in his jeans.

“Yeah, you look stunning. How’s about we get goin’ then?” His voice was gruff as his body emerged from the chair he was dominating, his figure towering over you as he reached for his car keys and headed out. You let out a smile before following him to his car and sliding in the passenger seat as he drove.

When you’d arrived, you’d managed to talk him into letting you buy a large box of popcorn and two drinks, despite him saying how much he didn’t want one. The two of you had found your seats, sat in the corner as you began to tuck into your snacks already, grinning like a happy little girl while Simon sat beside you, sulking- scrolling on his phone. You frowned at him about to tell him to ‘Grow up’ when the movie started.

You’d gotten about halfway through and the popcorn and your drink was already gone, and instead of eating you sat anxiously watching the film. The jumpscares making you leap out of your seat meanwhile Simon just laughs. You were impressed how little he flinched, figuring it must have been the fact he’s used to loud noises in the military, but actually it was because he wasn’t paying attention the film. The light from the big screen shined down onto the material of your leggings, his body warmed with hunger.

He wanted to be between your legs right now, he wanted you to trap and squeeze his face between your thighs as he devoured you. Hoping you wouldn’t let him breathe or let his face go until you came on his tongue, his little bratty baby who can use him however she wants. He’d spoil you, he’d spoil you so good.

His eyes traced up the curve of your tits in his hoodie, it was only a subtle little curve due to how big it was on you but fuck, it was enough to get him throbbing in his underwear. His hand instantly palming himself through his jeans before a grumble of annoyance left your lips.

A pair of two, a woman and a man, had just snuck in, squeezing by people watching the movie before sitting down in the seats in front of you. The man’s head was quite tall and blocking a heavy portion of the screen for you and you groaned leaning in next to Simon.

“I cant see.” You’d whispered and Simon snorted, looking back at the screen with a smirk, hand now placed at his side despite his urge to start stroking his cock.

“Well you’re the one who wanted to come.” He teased, the back of his head hit the top section of his seat, his eyes glued to the screen, just to let you know he had a perfect view and you bit your lip in rage. Not only could you not see the film you’d wanted to watch for months, the guy who you dragged along and begged to come had a perfect view. He didn’t even want to be here!

“Well you’re the one who picked where we sat!” You spat back out to him, keeping your voice quiet as you sunk back into your seat, watching what you could of the screen because the more you bickered, the more of it you missed. Simon laughed as he remained in his position, eyes flickering from the screen to you and despite the banter, his heart tugged slightly.

You did want to watch this film, as much as he hated cinemas he knew how much you loved this film franchise and it was a shame to spend all this money on the both of you not having a fun time. His arm swooped around your waist tugging you towards him, up and over the arm rest between you and into his lap. Your eyes went wide, head turning to face him him.

“What are you-“ But before you could question him, he kissed your lips, a smile on his own as he looked into your eyes, leaning in again. His mouth found your ear as he quietly whispered.

“Just enjoy the movie, love.” And with a deep breath you smiled, turning your attention back to the screen and getting lost in the film again. It was easy for you to just sit back and relax, eyes running over the screen as you watched it softly. Perched up in Simons lap, completely obvious to how hard Simon was fighting for control. How hard he was fighting the urge to push you back over to your seat and fuck the living hell out of you.

Your ass was pressed nice and neatly against his length, he was sure if you decided to move a slight bit, that you would be able to feel it and it was making him a madman. His hands rose to your waist slowly, diving beneath the fabric of your hoodie, feeling the smooth warm skin in his hands, squeezing it and rubbing it slowly. His head fell to your shoulder, watching the moving from there but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last.

“Simon?” You’d whispered as that was his limit reached. Hearing you whisper his name back to him had him breathing heavier, his hands digging into you as he pushed you back against him. Your eyes widening when you felt him under you, feeling his body brush against yours sent sparks to your pussy. The movie was a distant memory all of a sudden as you moved your body forward and against him. Rolling my hips in subtle movements.

A groan left his lips but instead of keeping you on his cock he lifted you slightly, placing you on his thigh. Bouncing his leg a little underneath you, wanting you to please yourself, as your skin flushed in the dark. You shouldn’t be doing this; not here. There was over 20 people in the room and here you were, riding against his thigh like a whore but it felt heavenly. The friction was addictive against your clit, warm, melted- like drowning hot honey. Your head flew back and Simons hands raised to your tits, pinching your nipples through the bra and squeezing them tightly to keep you needy.

“Keep going, be a good girl and hump my thigh.” He whispered, watching in awe as your hips rocked faster. Your eyes unfocused and hazy, while your mouth hung agape. You could feel your pussy throb inside your panties and the urge to stuff your fingers down your leggings was unbearable. It was so wrong- but it felt so fucking right.

You rutted against him faster and faster as one of his hands left your tits and instead grabbed your cunt through your clothes. His thumb finding your clit instantly and he circled it through the fabric: watching your orgasmic expression while your body twitched. When he withdrew his hand you flipped around facing him, grinding against him while looking deep into his eyes.

Suspenseful music played through the speakers of the cinema, and a laugh left your mouth at the timing. The louder it got, the closer you felt. Simon picked up on this gripping your waist eagerly, helping you rock against him while he praised you. People clutched their popcorn buckets and closed their eyes in fear while you threw your head back, until screams echoed the room and a moan left your lips.

Collapsing back into Simon as your chest rose and fell, your cum gushing out your hole and dampening your panties shamelessly- you probably leaked through your leggings too either how wet you were. Simon smiled to himself, kissing your neck long and hard as he held you close, his touch comforting and sensual as he calmed you slowly. Letting you come down from the high he gave you before chucking.

“Maybe cinemas aren’t the worst thing ever..”

[rafesangelita]

rafe + mean!reader orgasm control

warnings: friends with benefits, mean!reader, dark!reader, orgasm control, degradation (i promise rafe loves it <3), orgasm denial, fluff (just a lil)

a/n: this is so evil your req is perfect bb!!

“please, just let me touch you.” you smiled wickedly, shaking your head as rafe shuddered underneath your gaze. “let you touch me? no fucking way.” he swallowed thickly, your laugh echoing in his ears. “look at yourself.” you tugged on the roots of rafe’s hair, making him examine himself in the mirror. “this is the big bad rafe cameron that everyone is so scared of? how pathetic.” you whispered the last part in his ear.

your eyes traveled down his reflection, his cock rock hard. “what do you think people would say if they saw you like this? so needy and desperate while i still have all my clothes on?” he looked up at you as you stood between his thighs. “beg for it.” you giggled at the way his jaw clenched, running a nail underneath his chin. “please, ‘wanna make you feel good.” his hands rested on the back of your thighs, kneading the flesh there.

“yeah? it looked like you wanted to make that touron feel good, too.” at the mention of the girl he had on his lap all night long, rafe groaned, meeting your stare. “that was stupid of me, i-” you shushed him, rolling your eyes. “i don’t care who you do, ‘cameron, we have a ‘no strings attached’ arrangement, remember?” rafe blinked, watching as you slowly pushed him down on your bed. you were by far his favorite view, his heart skipping a beat when you started pulling down the straps of your dress.

“you look so good like this.” his chest rose and fell as you traced the ridges of his muscles. rafe thought he’d die if he couldn’t cup you through your bra, the swells of your breasts making him run his tongue across his bottom lip. without warning, you wrapped a hand around his length, a groan tumbling from his throat. “oh, fuck,” you gripped him at the base, leaning down to take his lips in your own. rafe kissed you like a man starved, physically restraining himself from flipping both of you over so he could have his way with you.

“you’re killing me, y/n.” his eyebrows knitted together, mouth falling open in a silent moan. you picked up your speed, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “good.” he half laughed, the smile dropping from his face when you ran your thumb over the head of his cock. “i’m not going to last long.” rafe shook his head, groaning to himself. “already?” you teased, the man in front of you shooting daggers in your direction.

you felt his hips stutter, his jaw going slack as his head rolled to the side. knowing rafe was on the edge of finishing, you pulled away, his body writhing with need. “no, no, no, why did you stop?” he sat up, panting for air. the look on his face was priceless. dark eyes, swollen lips, you couldn’t deny the way he made butterflies flutter in your tummy. letting your dress fall to the ground, rafe didn’t care anymore, too sexually frustrated to allow you to keep up your cruel ministrations.

a yelp left your lips when he pulled you on top of him only to roll you over and pin you beneath him. “you’re cute just as you are stupid.” you cooed, hand finding his length once again. “you know what’s going to happen?” rafe hummed, his head falling on your shoulder. “i’m gonna get you right on the edge again, ‘wait until you’re about to blow your load before i kick you out.” he knew you meant every word, having not been the first time you do this.

“you’re cruel, you know that?” he huffed out, pecking your temple. you tried to keep the flutter of your heart at bay, ultimately betraying yourself when you met his gaze. “maybe. but that’s why you keep crawling back for more.. literally.” rafe shut his eyes momentarily, the strokes of your hand sending a shiver down his spine. “please, please, please.” you kept a steady pace, making him look you in the eyes as he neared pure euphoria.

“your pretty face isn’t making this any easier for me.” rafe said through gritted teeth, welcoming the kisses you trailed across his chest. he knew when he felt you smile against his skin, you were going to kill him with your next words. “go home, rafe.” you pushed him softly, moving out from underneath him and settling in the comfort of your sheets. he blinked, the tension in his abdomen melting away into nothing.

even though this was torture for him, he loved every second of it. you were the only girl that didn’t give him what he wanted, and for that reason he found himself absolutely hooked. rafe kept his eyes trained on you as he got dressed, admiring your features before he opened your bedroom door. “i’ll be by tomorrow..” you hummed, turning away from him. “of course you are.”

[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie has a baby

"wait a second," max blinks, hands in the air to stop the conversation from going any further than it could. the rest of the guys quiet down and slowly turn to him. "are we just going to glaze over the fact that she said she's bringing a baby to the paddocks tomorrow?"

lando furrows his eyebrows. "surely, she's not talking about an actual baby, right?" he looks around for approval. "i just assumed she was talking about a... partner... boyfriend, perhaps?"

mick shrugs, "i always just assumed she was talking about a grown person. she wouldn't bring an infant to the track."

"is no one even concerned that she's only turning 19 this year and you lot assume that she's got a baby?" alex asks, scowling at his friends as he scratches his head. "maybe she knows someone named baby?"

"she calls them 'my baby', though," mick points out as he presses his lips together. "it has to be a person, right?"

"who's betting what?" charles raises his eyebrows. "i think it's neither a partner nor an infant. a car she named baby, maybe."

max furrows his eyebrows, throwing charles a questioning stare. charles just shrugs before looking around the group to get their opinions as well.

"okay, i bet dinner that it's just a friend," alex says. "you're all going to be eating your shit when tomorrow comes."

lando shakes his head. "i still think it's a boyfriend."

"what if it's a girlfriend?"

"fine," lando scoffs, clenching his jaw as he glares at charles from the corner of his eyes, "then i think it's a partner. happy?"

mick scrunches his nose. "i am not participating in a bet about my teammate! and i've seen her car before – it's definitely not called baby."

"don't be such a party pooper," max frowns. "come on, mick, you have to have made some assumption about who or what this baby is. i still think it's an infant."

"she's 18!"

"potato, potato," max waves their concerns off. "so this is all for dinner, right? bet?"

"yeah, bet."

"mick!" she throws her arm into the air at the sight of the german entering the paddocks, waving him to approach her. "come here! i want you to meet baby!"

mick perks up, eyebrows shooting up that he's coincidentally the first face she's seen as their day starts. she's in the middle of a crowd, hands held out ahead of her as he approaches. as the crowd dissipates, he realises that she's got a stroller parked in front of her.

could it actually be an infant? oh, god, suddenly he's very concerned for her as a person in general. how could this have happened?

"this is baby!" she grins, unzipping its cover to reveal two ears and a brown sweater. "my cat!"

his blue eyes jump between the cat and the girl with a pink bow in her hair, unsure what to do with the revelation that baby is a cat. so who exactly is buying dinner tonight? "your cat? baby is a cat?"

"yes!" she beams, reaching down to scratch the feline's chin, who purrs and closes her eyes at the affection. "my dad got me baby two years ago when i finished in the top 10."

"wait," mick looks down at baby again, "is she wearing a louis vuitton sweater?"

"well, she's a sphynx," she frowns, fixing the sweater and pulling it down a little, "she gets cold sometimes." then she takes a step back with a grin, hands held out as she spins around. "and look! we match!"

"why are you spinning– oh, what's this?" lando grins, noticing the way they were conversing before he even passed through the gantry. "oh! what is that?"

"her cat," mick says through gritted teeth, eyes widening and hitting lando softly on the arm to urge him to just keep his opinions to himself. "baby. that's barbie's cat – baby."

"you named your c-" lando scowls softly, dropping his head low as the girl stops spinning. he turns to mick to hide his face away and blinks. "that's not a cat, mate. that's raw chicken."

mick simply shrugs in response. “i know.”

“she’s a sphynx! isn’t she cute?” the girl giggles, tapping lando on the shoulder. “and we’re matching clothes.”

lando stares at her. “this is baby… a cat? not even a person? not even an actual infant?”

she blinks at him. “infant? i’m 18.”

“what are you guys doing obstructing the paddock entrance and wh– hey, what’s this?” alex approaches with his hands grabbing the straps of his backpack.

“it’s baby,” lando grins, blinking hard at his friend. “a cat.”

“oh, how love– oh,” alex cuts himself off as he hunched over and looks into the carrier. he looks at lando and mick. “i imagined a more fluffy cat.”

“is that raw chicken wearing an lv sweater?” max pops up between mick and lando, furrowing his eyebrows.

“raw– she’s a cat,” she says again, pointing at baby with vindiction. “do you need to start wearing glasses?”

max grins with a small nod. he turns slightly to the men next to her. “why does her cat look something i’d find in the poultry section of the grocery store?”

“probably because it is part of the poultry section of the grocery store,” alex mutters, maintaining his grin to appease the young girl standing in front of them.

“oh, what a lovely looking cat!” charles beams, towering over the stroller wide eyed. “can i pet her?”

“yes! this is baby!” she shrieks excitedly, grabbing charles’s shoulder. she holds her arms out. “look — we’re matching clothes!”

charles’s eyes widen along with his smile. “oh! you have to get me some so i can match with you guys one day!”

“fun’s over,” max grumbles under his breath, waving his hands in the air to dismiss themselves. “i’ll see you and your chicken later.”

she furrows her eyebrows. “she’s a cat!”

— bonus

"a chicken?" oscar blinks, scowling slightly at the older men standing before him. "she has a pet chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick points out with a tired sigh and a roll of his eyes. he turns to max, "you can't keep calling baby a chicken. you'll upset barbie."

max throws his hands in the air. "you should have seen baby! that's not a cat!"

logan tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. "what's a sphynx cat?" he shrugs when he receives stares from them. "i'm not a cat person."

"those hairless cats," oscar explains. "have you got a picture of this said pet chicken?"

"pet chicken?" fernando had been walking by when he suddenly overhears something of a pet chicken which, in theory, is already such an absurd situation. he just has to know what is going on. "who has a pet chicken?"

"barbie."

he takes a step back. "that's some next-level rich people behaviour. not even lance owns a chicken?"

"sphynx cat," mick corrects again, looking around to ensure that she's not around to hear the guys making fun of her choice of best friend in the form of a pet. "it doesn't even look like a raw chicken, mate, it's a grey cat."

oscar grins. "so raw chicken that's expired?"

"a sphynx cat!" fernando cheers with a soft clap. "how nice! but isn't that a bit..."

"could be worse, really," mick mutters. "she told me earlier she originally wanted a tiger."

"really? what pulled her away from wanting a tiger?" logan asks.

mick sighs. "she read up that it's not very conducive for wild animals to be domesticated. she does, however, contribute tons of money to wildlife charities monthly."

taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[star-sim]

supermassive blackhole ☆ jay park pt. 1

☆ non-idol! spiderman! jay x fem!reader

☆ summary: You and Jay Park couldn't stand each other. But after a drunk makeout session at your university's annual soccer mixer, combined with Jay's secret identity as the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two of you are pushed closer to each other than ever, challenging your long-time status as 'enemies.'

☆genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive but no nsfw/smut, angst, fluff, spiderman! au, college! au, so incredibly american HELP, reader has glasses bc it's cute and jay has a lip piercing bc i said so

☆ warning(s) ? many mentions and instances of alcohol (all characters are of age) , this is very suggestive but there is no smut

☆ word count:  13.7k

☆ a/n: my dumbass didn't factor in character block limit when i wrote this shit so i'm gonna split this fic up into two parts... sorry guys :( lmk if you want me to tag you in part 2, also this has a diff style so lmk how we feel abt it 😇

part 2

“Oh, thank you so much, Spider-Man!”

It was a warm spring evening, and Spider-Man had been on his evening city patrol. When he found a little old lady calling for help, who was he to refuse her? Her cat had been stuck in a tree, and she needed someone to help her. Hopping up on the tree, he safely retrieved the ball of fluff.

“Of course, Ma’am,” the superhero chuckled. If only she could see him through his mask, he would be grinning. “Get home safely.”

Watching the little lady’s retreating back, Spider-Man shot a web to the top of a building, and hoisted himself up into the air.

On late-spring nights like this, it was peaceful. He liked the breeze that hit his masked face as he swung from building to building. Around this time, rush hour would be beginning, and all the university students would be getting out. Speaking of…

Peeking over a billboard, Spider-Man peered down to the university campus. His own university campus.

There was no reason in particular for this, but he liked to watch the university around evening time. Most people were beginning their commute home or to the dorms, but campus crime was not rare at all. It could be small offenses like graffiti or theft, but he would prefer those types of things to just not exist at all at a place like the university. And, he just liked to check up on his friends or people he knew, to make sure they were getting home safely.

His eyes narrowed at a familiar figure that made its way across campus. Even from a tall building, he could recognize that head. His jaw clenched, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip before shooting another web and slinging away.

By the time it was fully dark out, Spider-Man had finished his night patrol. 

Sitting on the roof of his apartment complex, he didn’t quite want to go in yet. He liked freedom: the physical freedom yielded from spider-like abilities– practically flying through the air– and the social freedom of anonymity. Leaning back on his palms, Spider-Man took a deep breath.

The clouds were beginning to clear up because of the weather, so the moon and stars were extra visible tonight. Clothed fingers creeped up to his neck, carefully pulling up the red mask that covered his face.

He was lucky that no one else casually sat on top of apartment complexes, or else his identity would be revealed.

Jay Park.

The moonlight glimmered on his honey-gold tan skin. The night breeze was cool, kissing his hot cheeks. He ran a hand through his tousled coal-ebony hair, letting his sweaty forehead that had been covered for hours air out.

Truth be told, he was a tad exhausted. It’s not common for the safety of a city to lie on the shoulders of a struggling university student like himself. Throwing his head back and letting dark locks fall over his eyebrows, he let out a huff.

Shit, there’s a party tomorrow.

Everyone liked to boast about the idea of soulmates. 

The idea that fate existed as the binding force that drew lovers of all disparate backgrounds together was prolific, pervading in all parts of history. From severed limbs that shared the same primordial origin, to congenital tattoos containing initials, to even timers that counted down every second until meeting, the concept of soulmates has been longed for, craved for, lusted for- for centuries.

Unfortunately, for you, the notion that everyone had an innate and pre-destined lover was a tad ridiculous.

There was no way that you could believe in soulmates.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

But you did believe in natural enemies.

“I can ask you the same thing, Park.”

Tonight was the soccer team mixer, an end-of-the-year party that the university’s team hosted to celebrate yet another exciting school year. Courtesy of your friends, you and your thick-ass glasses ended up attending. 

Tonight was supposed to be a nice night. It really was. Junior year of university was a stressful one, and you were more than ready to party all your worries away: you figured that you earned it. 

Much to your misfortune, though, there was someone else that decided to attend: the most insufferable, loud, and obnoxious person to ever exist, Jay Park.

There were several reasons to despise him and his funky, tousled hair. He was loud, rowdy, fiery, rambunctious, unruly, uncouth, uncivilized, hot-headed, talked way too much, had no sense of volume, and in your very personal opinion, just sucked. And, apparently, he was a total freak. He would show up to parties and socials, cause a ruckus with his presence, and then randomly disappear. He stood weirdly, and his mannerisms were just strange.

If you could go back and change history, you would have never allowed yourself to even meet such a person. Unfortunately, you two had intersecting friend groups and many mutual friends; there was no avoiding him given your social circles.

It started back in freshman year of highschool. The two of you were sat next to each other on the first day of fourth period English Honors. Your teacher must have seen something that you didn’t, because it was almost impossible for you to even talk to each other. Jay, the pubescent boy he was, would crack a few jokes. You, though, would stare at him vacantly, as if you were expecting him to add on. 

“Can you stop talking?” you asked him once. “Your jokes aren’t funny.”

You had meant it in a helpful way.

“If you want to make it funnier, maybe have a set-up and punchline? Your jokes don’t land.”

Really.

You were genuinely trying to be helpful. 

The only issue was that, like everyone else in the world, Jay didn’t take that well.

From then until the second quarter, you and Jay would only talk to each other if specifically asked to. You would turn around to the girl that sat behind you, and Jay would talk to the guy that sat diagonally in front of him. And when you guys did speak Jay would be unnecessarily dry, and in response, you would get irritated and snap at him.

When you finally moved seats next quarter, you still managed to see each other around. Too much. Your only interactions were limited to a few judgy glances, and occasionally, glares.

During the fourth quarter, Jay made an attempt to mend your relationship when you guys were placed adjacent to each other again. 

Except, now it was your turn to be offended. 

“Hey, I know I was a dick and you were a bitch, but-”

“I was a bitch?”

You’d kick his chair in class, and when the two of you were inevitably forced to talk, it’d be short and curt.

Truly, it was the summer of freshman year that really catapulted your relationship into what it was today. 

When you hung out with your friends over the summer, Jay was always (and truly, always) there. 

Initially, it was awkward.

But when you learned that Jay liked the same band as you– Muse– you thought that you could finally put your terse relationship to an end. 

“You listen to Muse?” You had tapped his shoulder one day at the beach. He was hunched over, listening to his music with earphones jammed into his ears peacefully. He looked bemused, cocking a brow at you.

It must have been the way that you said it. Poor, slightly socially-inept you, who, up until that point, couldn’t control your tone of voice. It was no surprise that Jay thought you were making fun of him.

Brusquely standing up, he snatched his earbuds up to go somewhere [Name]-free, grumbling something under his breath.

From then on, you two rarely got along.

“Something about his face pisses me off.”

“I don’t like how she says things.”

“He makes me so angry for some reason.”

“She’s a total nerdo freak.”

“I need to fight him.”

“I need to fight her.”

For the first two years of high school, there was non-stop bickering. Not necessarily malicious in intent, but it was clear that neither of you liked each other.

The closest thing to a “friendship” that the two of you formed was during the second semester of sophomore year, when your friend started liking his friend, and vice versa.

Both of you were getting tired of seeing your friends so cluelessly in love with each other, so you and Jay joined forces to push them together. Secret in-class texting, after-school discussions, shared knowing looks, and when they finally got together on the last day of school, a perfectly-timed fist-bump. As much as you’d hate to admit it, you and Jay Park made a wonderful team.

After that, you were just on your way to becoming great friends. Obviously, not as close as other friends, but it was undoubted that you had incredible potential to become very good friends.

Until one midsummer night.

“You knew that Taehyun Kang was cheating on Isa– with the girl that he swore up and down she shouldn't worry about– and said nothing?” 

It was a difficult night. Especially when you had to console a weeping friend on one call and yell at Jay Park on the other. 

“He’s my best friend, too,” was all Jay had said.

“And?” You had been incredulous. “Taehyun’s been making googly-eyes at that girl since way before he got with Isa! You knew. You’ve known this entire time and you still-”

“I didn’t know.”

You remembered the anger that began to bubble inside of you. You had spent the past few weeks trying to fix your aggression issues, because it was Jay that told you about your first interaction that got you guys off on the wrong foot. But now, you really couldn’t suppress it.

“Yes you fucking did!” you yelled over the phone. “I know you did. Don’t try to pull this shit on me, Jay.”

He didn’t respond.

“You’ve known this entire time, and you didn’t say anything.”

He had huffed over the phone, grumbling something incoherent. “I didn’t know until a few days before school ended.”

“A few days before school ended?--” You had sunken your teeth into your bottom lip, for the anger that was just beginning to heat up was now rising to a boil– “That was a few days before they got together! You had time to say something– but you didn’t.”

“What did you want me to do?” Jay was now getting angry. “You wanted me to speak up and ruin everything?”

“You could have. You should have. But you didn’t.”

“It’s not my responsibility, [Name]. It’s not your or my responsibility.”

The boiling anger was now seething. “Yes, it fucking was!”

“No, it wasn-”

If Jay could have seen your face over the phone, it would have been twisted with both disbelief and indignation.

“When you and I teamed up to get Taehyun and Isa together,” you asserted through clenched teeth, “there were some things we took responsibility for. And when they got together, we had the responsibility to be good friends. Good fucking people, Park! You–”

You had to take a few moments to breathe. “You had the power– You had the knowledge that your best friend was a cheating bastard that would– You know what? You’re just like him. You could’ve been a normal fucking person and did things the right way, but you lack responsibility and basic intelligence to do so.”

Through the course of that messy break-up, a few more screaming matches between you and Jay came about. Really, it should have been an argument for your friends to have, but you and Jay had had enough of each other. The floodgate that had held your relationship finally broke.

For the rest of your high school years, every interaction would just be blows at each other. It started as subtle, harmless jabs. But over time, those jabs became hostile. Petty actions, like light shoves or stealing pens, evolved into spiteful and calculated attacks, such as purposefully tripping the other or intentionally cutting the other out of a group photo.

Eventually, your friends made up and the break-up rift was resolved, but not you and Jay’s rocky relationship. 

The horror you and Jay must have felt when you found out you were going to the same university.

At the present, pushing up the metal-framed glasses that delicately laid on your nose, you could feel Jay’s dark eyes boring into you. Giving him a once-over, your nose scrunched. Once again, you’re reminded of why you could not stand this guy.

Tonight was a soccer mixer. A college mixer. Looking around, everyone was dressed as if they were college students at a college party. Because that’s what they were.

Girls, including yourself, wore small dresses and short skirts with plunging necklines and fat, wedged heels. They did their hair in all kinds of elaborate styles– you tied your hair into a half-down-half-up style. The guys wore ripped jeans, form-fitting button-ups, leather jackets, and if you were a soccer player, the iconic soccer team jacket- but really anything that was casual and easy to move in.

Jay Park, on the other hand, swore a deep-green hoodie with ripped jeans, like the uncultured villain he was.

Okay, maybe you were being biased.

A few of your friends did come in wearing hoodies and ripped jeans, and you did, in fact, come through the door of this frat house with an oversized hoodie draped over your shoulders. But, the difference was that this was Jay Park. Everything that he did was uncultured and barbaric.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” you remarked, glaring up at him through your lashes. You were on your way to grab a few drinks for your friends in the kitchen when you bumped into none other than Jay Park. “You hang around Jake Sim, I hang around Jake Sim. Use your critical thinking.”

Jake Sim was a mutual friend between you and Jay, who just so happened to be on the university’s soccer team. Great guy, but the only thing that you would complain about was the fact that every time you hung out with him, you would inevitably meet Jay.

Jay scoffed. “Didn’t think a prude like you would actually show up to a party like this.”

“Prude?” Of all times to be calling you prude, it really shouldn’t be now, when you were wearing possibly the shortest and tightest dress with the most risque neckline that you’ve ever worn in your entire life. Those thin spaghetti straps were not doing you any justice. And especially because you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes would linger around your silhouette. “Who’s the one who hasn’t been laid in months? Who’s the one with the worst box-dyed hair on the entire campus? Who’s the one that lacks any social awareness and says the most uncomfortable shit in a voice at 260 fucking decibels? Who randomly disappears? Who moves around like a goddamn insect?”

“That’s not even fucking true!” The man waved his hands in front of himself defensively. “God, you’re so fucking annoying.”

“I’m annoying? You’re the creep that follows me around everywhere.”

“You said it yourself! We have a mutual friend so we always end up-”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling that we end up in the same places because you choose to follow me-”

“I can assure you that no one wants to follow your nerdo freak ass-”

“Oh wow! How creative. You’ve been calling me that since we were fourteen–”

“Because that’s what you are! A nerdo freak that can’t do shit–”

“Why are you even here? You always have that job that you leave to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, party people!” a new voice interjected. 

Jake Sim, your mutual friend, with sleek sunglasses resting on his nose and a beer in his hand, suddenly appeared between your arguing bodies, throwing an arm around each of you.

“Jakey!” you exclaimed.

“‘Sup.” Jake was a suave guy, not a wonder that so many people liked him. “What were the two of you talking about? Looked like you were having fun!”

Jay cringed, his lips curling. Of all words, ‘fun’ would be the furthest from a good descriptor of your interaction. You seemed to think the same.

“Nothing,” you said through clenched teeth and brief glare to the ebony-haired man. 

Jake frowned. “Awww, don’t tell me you guys were fighting again!”

You and Jay locked eyes.

‘Don’t you fucking dare,' his eyes said.

‘Wasn’t going to,’ yours replied.

Jake Sim was a sociable guy. Unfortunately, it made him a little obsessed with making everyone get along. So when he found out that you and Jay deeply disliked each other in junior year of high school, he made it his life’s mission to make you get along.

Didn’t work. It really only made you hate each other more.

“We weren’t,” Jay affirmed, swiping a tongue over his pierced bottom lip. 

When Jake cocked a brow, you added, “Yeah, we weren’t.”

When Jake left you two alone again, there was a thick silence that fell over you (as silent as a rowdy college party could get). You took your drink, and turned to leave.

“Go fuck yourself, by the way,” you spat.

There’s many issues with college parties. A few hundred bodies of sweaty late-teen-early-twenty-somethings all squished together in a single frat house with alcohol and drugs was just a recipe for disaster. Alas, that was simply the college way.

To Jay Park, other than the fact that there was, ahem, usually the presence of people that he didn’t like at college parties, there was the fact alcohol was practically everywhere. No matter how many times he could vow to not drink on one particular night, he always ended up slightly buzzed or full-out drunk.

Like right now.

It was late into the night, but the party hadn’t died down even a little bit. His friends pulled him onto the dance floor. Normally, he would scurry off, probably scared that he might lose control of his spider abilities, but with the booming techno music, blinding LED lights, and alcohol that had happily found its way into his system, Jay’s mind was completely hazy. He could barely feel his own feet below him.

The next thing he knew, there was a body up against him. Definitely smaller than him, but plush and soft, moving fluidly to the music. His mind was completely fuzzy, but Jay could smell a familiar scent. Sweet and almost citrusy, like a summer orange. His arm slithered around the person’s waist, pulling them closer to his own body. His fingers found themselves snaking toward the person’s hip. His larger hands gave it squeeze, earning him a barely-audible squeal. 

If only he knew that the person was you.

Maybe it was the alcohol getting to him, but he felt a shock of fervor and excitement rake through his body.

Bodies moving closely together, he could feel a ghost of your warmth where there was clothes; where clothing was, he could only feel a touch of warmth. 

Jay could feel everything, thanks to his heightened spidey senses and the alcohol. Every motion of your body against his, every breath you took. Which is why even when intoxicated, he could clearly hear the song change from techno to punk rock– Muscle Museum by that one band he’s liked since freshman year of highschool. Muse, was it?

“Fuck, I love this song,” he heard you mutter in your own tipsy state.

Jay was sure you couldn’t hear him, but he slurred back, “Me too.”

His hands explored.

A bare thigh, soft and creamy. An exposed neck, an unclad arm, an ample uncovered chest. Something metal on your face– a piercing? glasses? You must have been wearing jewelry, because he could feel cold metal hanging from your neck and splaying across your chest.

(The amount of practice it took for him to be able to ensure no sticky webs came out of his palms was out of this world. Sober Jay would have been a little more careful, but it was a good thing that he practiced so much.)

When his hand gave your waist another squeeze, something must have clicked in your mind, because you slid your arms around his neck, turning your body to press your chests together. Pedicured fingers ran across his chest through the fabric of his hoodie, ending up at his shoulders. Another jolt of warmth and electricity coursed through his veins.

Jay’s head was way too blurred to really take a look at you in front of him, but again, that familiar scent filled his senses. 

When the lights dimmed and music slowed, you rested your head on his shoulder. He could feel your breath fanning against his neck, lip brushing against his skin. Your lips were half-moist; it must have been gloss that made it sticky, but there was a hint of dryness that he could tell was from being swollen– you were biting your lip so much it was becoming swollen. A warm chill rushed down his spine. 

How drunk was he at this point? He didn’t care, because the next thing he knew, he was pushed up against a wall in a dark hallway.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath, as you shoved your pedicured hands up his hoodie and played with the belt loops of his ripped jeans.  Throwing his head back against the wall, he heard you giggle, before you ghosted your hand over his lower abdomen, effectively sending waves of warmth down his body. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, flinching. He cursed his spidey senses for making him so sensitive to touch. “Don’t fucking do that- don’t tease me.”

He heard another giggle, before he felt a few nimble fingers grasping his chin gently, pulling his face down for a better reach.

It was a soft, but crazily attractive, voice that whined in his ear, “But you’re so cute like this.”

And then you continued, slipping your hand up and down his bare abdomen, occasionally stopping near his collarbone to tug on the metal necklace that laid so delicately. Meanwhile, you pressed open-mouth kisses on his neck, eliciting the softest sighs of satisfaction.

Truth be told, Jay had no idea that it was you who was all pressed up against him, but for some reason, the fact that he didn’t know turned him on even more. 

The wet kisses, which he was sure left sparkly pink traces of lip gloss, littered all over his skin, trailing from the part where his jaw and ear met, to his collarbones, to his Adam’s apple, and finally, to his chin.

With a squeeze to his bicep, you gently cupped his cheek, pulling him closer. With an experimental hand, you swiped your thumb over his bottom lip, pressing onto the cold metal piercing that adorned his lip.

It was a dark hallway, but it was now that Jay noticed the light that reflected off of your glasses’ lens. When he tried to look for your eyes, he was only met with the sleek shine that reflected off your glasses.

“Let me kiss you,” you purred into his ear as you ran your thumb over his lips. It was now that he could smell the tequila from your breath. “Please?”

Jay, all in his equally-drunken glory, threw his head back again against the wall, making a thud sound. “Fuuuuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Yeah. You’re hot.”

You giggled. You gave his lip piercing one more tap of the finger before entangling your hands in his dark hair, giving it a soft tug. It was a good thing that he was pushed so close against a wall, because Jay swore his knees were going to give out. 

“Thank you, baby.”

You gave his hair another tug, staring straight into his eyes. The half-panicked expression that spread across his face made you crack a small grin of satisfaction, and Jay felt embarrassed under your gaze. Gently holding his face, you pressed soft butterfly kisses along his jawline before you ended up at his chin. You pulled him closer so that your chests were pushed all the way against each other, the majority of your weight on him against the wall.

Jay swiped a tongue over his lip, sucking in a sharp and shallow breath. His chest rose and fell, swallowing so hard in anticipation that his Adam’s apple bobbed. You brushed your nails along his bicep before clasping hands with him; in a swift movement, you pinned his hands flat on the wall next to his head. 

The gap between your faces was closing. You were only a few inches apart at this point. Hot breaths and glassy eyes.

Hands still pinned against the wall, Jay could not tear his eyes away from that glossy sheen on your glasses. He wanted so badly to see your eyes, lock onto them. Usually, the inability to see someone’s eyes would make a kiss less appealing, but for some reason, it only made things more intimate for him. Combined with the darkness and intoxicated state, the anonymity was a turn-on.

Almost as if to tease him, you peppered soft kisses along his chin and around his lips. Freeing his hand from your grip, Jay snuck it around your waist, pressing you all the way up against him. He could feel every curve and divot of your body now; with the softness and plush skin, he wanted to explore it once again with his touch. His big hand traveled down your waist to your hips, caressed your ass, and ended up on the backside of your thigh. He freed his other hand to do the same, resulting in two hands on your thighs.

Jay parted his lips, peering down at you through lidded eyes. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The music had faded in the background, but his heart pounded to the beat of the slow R&B. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

So close. You were so close.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Sliding his hands up your back to your shoulders, Jay gave it a squeeze. In a swift movement, he flipped your positions around, pushing you gently against the wall and placing a flat palm above you head.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

You giggled, grappling for his hair once again. 

Again, he could smell that sweet, citrusy scent.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

Jay leaned in. 

There was a sort of tenderness—intimacy— that he suddenly craved for. Closing that gap, having skin on skin, lip to lip, he needed it.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. 

If he just got a little closer… a few more centimeters, and your lips would-

Beep beep!

What-

Beep beep!

Bewildered, Jay flinched back.

It was his watch, which lit up the dark hallway.

You held his bicep, trying to pull him back in. He resisted.

Beep beep! Time to go! his watch went on.

“Baby,” you breathed. “Is everything okay?”

Jay bit his tongue. As sensible as an intoxicated person can be, his eyes narrowed at his glowing wristwatch. 

Fuck.

“I-I have to go.” Jay pushed off the wall, turning toward the hallway entrance. He was feeling dizzy.

“What? But-”

He eyed his watch, which was now glowing a red color.

“Shit, shit-” He turned over his shoulder, slurring out, “I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t see your face but he could feel disappointed and confused eyes boring into his back.

On his way out of the frat house, Jay took a bottle of water and chugged it, sobering up (though still feeling shitfaced and nasty). He rushed out of the house, and the moment he stepped out onto the pavement, his phone rang.

“What happened this time, Jungwon?” he grumbled into his phone, still catching his breath. His hand came up to touch his neck. Even out here and sobered up, he could still feel the sticky kisses pressed against his skin, setting his cheeks aflame against the cold night air.

On the other side of the phone, a childish voice spoke. “Doctor Discotheque!”

“What?”

He heard a huff. “Doctor Discotheque! Remember? That villain guy! He’s here!”

Jay scoffed. “Where’s ‘here’?”

“At home, you dummy!”

Sometimes, Jay wondered why he employed his eight-year-old kid brother, Jungwon, or Wonnie, to help him with his Spider-Man endeavors. Given the fact that the kid was literally eight years old, it might have been a little pathetic to enlist the help of someone who couldn’t even do basic math. But honestly, Wonnie was the best he had– the kid was terribly excited to find out that his big brother was a superhero and he promised not to tell anyone only if Jay 1) told him everything that happened (correction: everything cool that happened, the kid didn’t want to hear about helping old people use the subway) and 2) let him be intel. There wasn’t much a grade-schooler could do to be a valuable informant (what was Jay going to let him do, run around the street at night?), but he sure did have a lot of time on his hands.

“Okay, okay,” Jay rubbed the scar on his nose. “Where at home? Like, in the complex? Outside?”

“Two floors below us.”

“What.”

Just as Jay was outside the general vicinity of mixer-goers, he heard a slew of heavy footsteps and then suddenly felt two arms wrap around his torso.

“What the-”

A very, very, very familiar voice began sobbing into his back. “Why’d you leeeavvvvveee?”

You.

You tightened your hold on him, burying your face in his hoodie-clad back. “Whyyyyyyyyyy?” you drawled.

“The fuck-?” Jay, cringing into his skin, tried to pull away. However, his nose picked up a scent that he was more than mortified to recognize. It was sweet and citrusy. And when his eyes caught the outline of your metal-framed glasses and the illumination that was strewn across the lens, all hell broke loose.

“Jay?” Wonnie’s voice called over the line. “Jay! Spider-Man! Is everything okay?”

“Hold on-” Jay replied. “Fuck, just give me a second.”

You, [Name] [Last Name], possibly one of the most insufferable people ever, was the one that he was all over just five minutes ago. You were the one that had him pressed up against the wall. You were the one that was touching and kissing him all over. You were the one that sent chills down his spine. You were the one that he was minutes away from taking into a spare bedroom and-

He sucked in a sharp breath. Not the time to think about that.

Now that he had soaked in the fresh air outside the frat house, the smell of alcohol was strong on your person. It consoled him that everything happened because both of you were drunk, at least.

“[N-Name],” he muttered. “[Name], let go.”

You were fuckfaced drunk, holding and clinging onto him like your life depended on it and wailing. Jay never thought that he’d find a day where you would be like this to him.

“I want youuuuu,” you slurred. “Come baaaaack insiiiideeee.”

“Jesus Christ, you college kids,” Wonnie clicked his tongue on the other side of the line. “Get a room.”

“Shut it,” Jay spat. Turning his attention to you sobbing in his arms, he figured that you had no idea that the person you were all over was him. If you did, you would be kicking and screaming at him. 

As much as he needed to go, he didn’t feel great about leaving a drunk woman (no matter how much he disliked you) alone at night at the side of a road.

“[Name], where are your friends?”

You sniffled. “I don’t knowww.”

Jay huffed. He couldn’t find your phone, and he wasn’t going to hang up on his brother– who he honestly really needed to get to, like, right now.

He had a few options: fail at his job as Spider-Man by leaving a drunk woman unattended, go inside and physically look for your friends which will delay him going to Wonnie, or take you home himself. He did not have a lot of time.

Which is why he was currently carrying you, his worst enemy, bridal style as he shoots webs across the sky, all the while being on call with his kid brother.

“When are you getting home again?” Wonnie asked.

“Give me, like-” Jay looked around the city- “Five minutes.”

A lucky feat of being Spider-Man was that he had incredible speed and agility. 

It wasn’t going to take much longer to get to your apartment, which he now realized was very close to his own apartment complex.

Actually, he was heading straight towards his apartment complex. 

Weird. 

Maybe yours is the one behind it? 

Nope, there’s just an old construction site behind it.

Wait, so then where’s your apartment…?

Oh my god, you lived in the same apartment complex as him.

Speaking of, you were asleep in his arms. 

“Won, what is Doctor Discotheque doing?”

“Having tea with our downstairs neighbors.”

“What?”

“What kind of question is that?!” Wonnie yelled over the phone. “He’s a supervillain! What do you think he’s doing? Wreaking havoc, duh!”

Jay took a deep breath so as to not yell back at this kid. “Yeah, I know. What in particular is he doing?”

“He’s being rude to the apartment staff.” When he was met with a judgmental silence, Wonnie groaned. “I’m serious. I think he’s waiting for you. He’s just being super mean to people right now.”

Damnit.

Jay took a look at the unconscious you in his arms. “Wonnie, I’m going to drop someone by the balcony. Take her in, will ya?”

Before Wonnie could blow up on him for bringing a ‘her’ home, Jay brusquely said, “I’m going down to kick Doctor Discotheque’s ass.”

Of all things in the world, you did not expect to wake up in Jay Park’s bed. 

The next morning, you woke up with probably the worst headache you’ve ever had. You were never one to drink, but maybe the university stress was really getting to you. Groaning, you sunk your face into the freshly-washed white sheets. All seemed normal, until you realized a few things:

First, who took you home last night? You had no memory of anything that happened at the mixer that night. If you thought about it hard, you could probably remember getting ready for it, meeting some, ahem, unpleasant people, talking to a few friends… and really nothing more. In fact, the bedroom you were in right now didn’t look like it belonged to any of your friends. 

Second, you were still in your clothes from last night. And makeup. And hair.

How did you get home last night? 

This was probably the worst hangover you’ve had in a while. Nevertheless, when you realized that there was talking outside the room, you got out of bed to investigate. 

Which led you to possibly the worst thing to ever witness.

Jay Park, with wet hair, shirtless on the couch.

The shrill scream you let out was enough to get a complaint from the neighbors.

“Oh my fuck, calm down,” Jay, in all his bitch-faced glory, rolled his eyes.

“You- You want me to calm down?” You were scandalized. Horrified. “You’re literally- You’re-”

“This is my house,” his eyes bored into you. “I can do whatever I want.”

“This- This is your house?”

He blinked. “Yeah.”

There was another ear-splitting scream before Jay convinced you to sit down so he could explain.

“You don’t need to sit so far away from me,” Jay dead-panned when you sat at the very edge of the couch.

“I don’t want to be near you,” you murmured.

“That's rich coming from someone that was all over me yesterday.”

The utmost and utter horror painted across your face was nearly laughable. 

You?

All over Jay?

Was that why you woke up in his home…? In his bed?

“Oh my god,” you clasped a hand over your mouth. “Did we…”

“No.”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

“Then how am I here then?”

Jay sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

If you weren't completely stunned into silence from the fact that you woke up in Jay Park’s bed, then you were now. Jay recounted a rather detailed account of what happened the night before– the two of you got drunk, and ended up more than touchy with each other. Your face heated up, with both embarrassment and… anger? 

Frowning, you asked, “Then why’d you bring me home?”

“You were crying and begging me to come back inside with you, but I had to go.” 

You glared at him, crossing your arms.

“Go on.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you out there drunk, you know,” Jay shrugged. “I was going to bring you to your apartment, but I had to fight– I mean– Spider-Man had to fight some.. Um, villain downstairs.”

You nodded slowly, but skeptically. Sensing your cynicism, Jay added quickly, “You can check the news. The fight was on the seventh floor.”

Your ears perked up. “Seventh floor?”

“Yeah-”

“That’s where I live.”

Jay’s eyes widened a fraction. “Shit.”

A great thing about being Spider-Man was that he was technically a government worker, a public service provider. The government paid for all the casualties caused by his work, luckily. Gone were the days that he’d be considered a masked menace.

As great as this was, it led to Jay being more or less reckless. Not that he was throwing shit around and purposefully breaking property when protecting citizens, but he had the freedom to do whatever was necessary. If he had to break down walls to save people, then so be it.

Speaking up, Spider-Man went a little.. Err… crazy last night. Maybe it was the alcohol still lingering in his system, or the fact that Doctor Discotheque the supervillain was literally insane. Safe to say, when fighting in the hallway of the seventh floor, Jay got a little aggressive and broke a few more things than usual.

If you found out that he-- Jay-- was Spiderman, a.k.a. the one that probably damaged your home, he’d be dead. Luckily, you wouldn't find out. Unluckily, your apartment was among those that were damaged last night.

“Can you stop that?” Jay said.

There were many reasons that Jay Park deeply disdained you. You were nit-picky, snobby, arrogant, pretentious, overly-critical, fussy, and extremely judgmental. Everyone thought you were some sort of genius, and he could tell that you liked the fact that they did. 

“I’m fuckin’ stressed,” you spat as you paced around the floor. “I don’t think I can really ‘stop.’”

Not that he was a sick person, but the expression of genuine distress spread all over your face was almost satisfying. But then Jay realized the situation you were in and he knew it was his fault, so he felt just a little bad. 

You lost your phone last night, and your apartment was more than a little damaged, the entire seventh floor being tarped and taped off. Sitting on the couch, you chewed on your bottom lip. It wasn’t even noon yet. Given your group of friends and the events last night, it wasn’t likely that any of them were awake at this time. And you didn’t have your phone- it wasn’t like you could just easily phone someone that wasn’t there last night.

You had a massive headache, feeling lightheaded with a throbbing sensation up there. You felt gross, with smudged makeup and the same tiny dress from last night. You could definitely walk to a friend’s place and wait there, but the heels you wore last night were the tallest, most painful, party-purposed stilettos. You were absolutely not walking around the city in those shoes.

The worst part about it all was that you were stuck in the apartment of none other than Jay Park. 

Could you appreciate the fact that he looked out for you by taking you home? Yeah, sure.

But could you stand him? Absolutely not.

“Why are you walking around like that?” He was getting persnickety, as payback for all the times that you’d been nit-picky towards him. “You’re going to ruin my floorboards.”

You sent him a glare. Some empathy would be nice, you thought, rolling your eyes.

There really was only one person that was accessible to you if you wanted to get out of here, and it was Jay himself. You never really thought that there would be a day where you would need to ask for his help, but here you were, practically stranded. Speaking of, he was ignoring you, occasionally looking up from his phone to give you a weird look.

If you wanted to go home, you would need to swallow your pride and just ask for help.

You prided yourself in your ability to be blunt. You were a natural leader, ambitious and aggressive. You never had an issue with announcing your wants or needs. But now faced with the piercing silence of Jay Park, you simply could not open your mouth to speak. It wasn’t like you couldn't ask him, but that you wouldn't. Curling your lips, you let the glum, nearly shameful, feeling fall over yourself.

Eyes tracing the man’s outline carefully, you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

‘[Name], you can do this,’ you recited to yourself. ‘You can do this. Just talk to him, just talk to-’

You pressed your lips together, before taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak. As you attempted to say his name, no sound came out. When he glanced up at you suspiciously,you quickly averted your gaze and closed your mouth.

When he looked away, your eyes flickered back to him, simply drilling into him. You licked your lips. For the second time, you opened your mouth to say his name, bracing yourself for the sound of your voice, but Jay spoke before you did.

“What are you looking at?” 

You stood up straight like a board, pushing up your glasses clumsily.

“I- Well-”you cursed yourself for stammering. You never stammered like this. “I…”

He looked at you expectantly.

Your ego, that fat chunk of an ego, was crumbling.

“Park,” you brusquely said. 

He leered at you. “What?”

You stared at him awkwardly, lips pressed into a line as thin as paper. “I… I.. um.”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “On with it.”

You huffed loudly. 

“Can I please use your phone?”

The second last thing that you expected to happen ever was to be sitting on Jay Park’s bed with wet hair wearing his hoodie and sweatpants. And that other than asking him for help.

Never have you felt so ashamed of yourself, sitting on the soft bed with your knees up to your chest. 

The judgy glance that Jay gave you was absolutely soul-crushing, and after a humiliating stutter-filled explanation, he simply said, “Go take a shower.”

Were you initially mortified? Absolutely. But after soaking in the warm water for a few minutes, you begrudgingly thanked him. But only in your head.

Staring at a spot on the floor, you pressed your face into your knee, reflecting upon everything that had happened. As you were lost in thought, what startled you was a loud beeping sound, the slamming of a window, and yelling. You jumped to your feet in reaction, but before you could creep out of the bedroom, someone else came in.

Instead of a tall, well-built man with black hair, it was a young boy no older than ten holding a massive walkie talkie.

“Who- Who are you?”

The boy blinked owlishly, before cracking a grin. “Oh, it’s you!”

You recoiled. “Wh-What?”

“You’re the lady from last night!” he laughed, revealing sharp canine teeth. When you only looked more bewildered, he continued, “The lady that Jjongsaeng brought home last night!”

Jjongsaeng? “You mean Park— er, Jay?”

The boy frowned. “He didn’t tell me he had a girlfriend,” he murmured to himself quietly, before turning over to you. “Mhm!”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” You were a little concerned. Who was this child and why was he in Jay Park’s apartment?

“Oh!” The boy laughed again, throwing his head back. He came closer to you, extending a small hand towards you. “Jungwon! But just call me Wonnie!”

Okay, but your question wasn’t answered exactly. “Are you…” you took a better look at Wonnie. He was just so small! Though, he looked an awful lot like Jay Park… – “Are you his son… or…?”

The boy put an offended hand over his chest, scowling deeply. 

“Son?” he gawked. “I’m his brother!!”

Your lips formed an ‘o.’

“And what’s your name?” Wonnie looked at you curiously.

“[Name] [Last Name]– Just– Just call me [Name].”

A silence fell over you two.

“Do you- Do you know where your brother is?” When Wonnie gave you a suspicious look, you quickly added, “I need to use his phone.”

He gave you another long stare, before saying simply, “He’s not here.”

How could he not be here? Jay was just here, like, twenty minutes ago? “What do you mean?” you narrowed your eyes.

“He-” Wonnie’s large eyes hovered over to the window quickly, before fluttering back to you. “He went to work.”

“Doesn’t he have a night internship?”

Wonnie grumbled something under his breath, almost looking stressed, gripping the walkie talkie. “Yyyyyessss,” he nodded slowly. “But he has a day job too…. As an.. Um, photographer?”

You nodded slowly. “Right. When do you expect he’ll be back?”

Wonnie glanced at the window again. “In, like, fifteen minutes-”

Crash!

You two rushed over to the living room window, peering across to the construction site behind the apartment complex. There, there were news reporters, blaring ambulances and police cars, and rubble and dust everywhere. Not to mention the elephant in the room: Spider-Man and two criminals.

“Oh my god, is that Spider-Man?”

Wonnie didn’t seem as impressed as you, opting to toy with his walkie talkie. “Yeah, he’s here all the time. Cool guy.”

You frowned. You lived only a few floors down and you wouldn’t say that Spider-Man was ‘here all the time.’ 

“Really? This is my first time seeing him.”

Fingering the window handle, you pushed it open.

You’d heard all the stories. Your friends talk about seeing the red-and-blue-clad hero with his iconic spider logo. He was some neighborhood hero. According to a few of your friends, he’d help them fight off muggers and creeps, swinging in with his sticky white webs just moments before all hell broke loose. Apparently, he was a super suave guy, and according to a few, really hot. 

“As hot as a masked hero can be,” you would laugh with your friends. Now watching from a few stories up, you could definitely see the appeal. The sun was out, casting a harsh shadow on Spider-Man’s defined back muscles. The skin-tight suit hugged his strong arms and sturdy build. 

There was something so fascinating about Spider-Man. He was strong, friendly, dutiful, sure. But what made him so alluring was that you wanted to study him– dissect him. It was only in your nature to want to know every single inner-workings of a figure like him.

You then felt a poke at your side. It was Wonnie.

“What, are you in love with him or something?”

You tore your eyes from Spider-Man’s figure. “What? No!”

Wonnie raised his brows. “Hmmm… Okay.”

You turned back over to the window, except when you scanned for Spider-Man, he had disappeared completely.

“Hey, where did he-”

The front door of the Park apartment flew right open, revealing a disheveled Jay Park. 

“Y-You’re back already?” Wasn’t he just at a job….?

Jay waved his hand in front of him, taking off his shoes. “Yeah. Why? Were you gonna do something?”

Your nose scrunched. “No! I just thought you were at a job.”

Jay scoffed. “Who told you that-” He cut himself off when he noticed the awkward expression painted across Wonnie’s face. 

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” he muttered.

Jay Park would have never guessed that you would be sleeping in his bed. For the second night. In a row. None of your friends had enough space for you to crash, and if not, they just didn’t pick up the phone. 

“You need better friends,” Jay had told you in a matter-of-fact way, earning a sharp glare. 

And it wasn’t an easy decision to let you stay with him either.

The apartment was a 2-bedroom one. One for himself, one for his kid brother. He sure as hell wasn’t going to make Wonnie leave his room or you and Wonnie share a room, and he most definitely was not sharing a bed with you. He’d make you sleep on the couch, but the Spider-Man in him told him not to. So very grudgingly, Jay let you take his room.

He was only allowing this because it was him that practically destroyed your apartment. Even if he didn’t like you, he did take responsibility for what happened.

Maybe that one argument you had the summer of sophomore year got to him. 

And plus, he could not stand you. All the little jabs you made at him, even down to your facial expressions, had him riled up. But, for the sake of the child in the room, Jay made no big attempt to fight back.

Curled up on the couch, Jay couldn’t shake off the glum feeling that settled on his chest.

Jay Park never realized how many qualms he would have with another person living in his house. 

He was okay with Wonnie, because Wonnie knew his identity as Spider-Man. And plus, Wonnie was his brother– that little squirt was tolerable. When it’s just the two of them, Jay could do basically anything he wanted. Wonnie was more than enthusiastic when he would use his webs to pull objects toward him or hang on the ceiling just because he could, and it was a rather common occurrence for you two to make a ruckus whenever there was crime in town. Jay could go do Spider-Man things whenever he needed to, and Wonnie would be okay with it.

But now with you living with him temporarily, he had to be a lot more careful.

Especially with your nitpicking everything he does.

“Why do you cut your bread like that?”

“Ew, your butter is so hard.”

“Can you stop chewing so loud?’

“Why does your face look like that?-- Oh, hi Wonnie!”

“Hi, [Name]!”

It seemed like Wonnie and you got along better. 

“Hey, where are you going?” you asked from the kitchen table.

Jay, who was putting on his coat and shoes at the door, made a face. Swinging his backpack over his shoulders, he took Wonnie’s hand. “What do you think we’re doing?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you answered matter-of-factly. “Class doesn’t start until nine though!”

Jay pointed to Wonnie. “Gotta take him to school.”

That was only partially the truth. He did indeed take Wonnie to elementary school, but like every morning, he went on a morning patrol. The amount of small robberies and little school children walking into traffic was a bit staggering, but not to worry, Spider-Man was on his way.

Like right now.

As Jay swung from building to building, he carefully scanned the alleyways and streets to possibly catch any crime. When he stopped to rest atop a mix-use flower shop, crouching in his iconic pose, he spotted two children and a man.

Jay’s enhanced senses allowed him to hear the conversation-

“Let go!” one of the children pleaded, pulling away from the man. The other child, clearly the younger one, confusedly held onto the other.

“Kids, kids!” the man chuckled, continuing his tightened grip. “Just come with me. I’m your parents’ friend!”

The older of the two scrunched her nose, continuing to resist the man.

Jay observed from above. Clearly, these children had no idea who this man was. By the looks of it, there wasn’t anyone else around. Even if the kids screamed, no one would come to the rescue quick enough. This weird kidnapper guy could definitely take these kids without a doubt.

Cue the screaming and crying.

Panicked, the man tightened his grip on the kids, jerking them along as he began to walk towards the alleyway.

Fuckin’ creep, Jay thought before shooting a white web at the lampost a few meters down the pavement, swinging down. Extending a leg, he held onto the web as he suspended across the air. As he closed in on the man, he heard the two children let out shrill gasps just as Jay's foot made impact with the man’s cheek.

The brief moment of surprise made the man loosen his grip on the two children, allowing for them to scurry back. Now on the ground, Jay stood over his fallen figure.

Disgusting, he thought as he peered down at the man. Just thinking about what he would have done to the children made him angry. The man groaned in pain. Jay leaned down to the man, bringing a masked, yet somehow patronizing, face to him.

“Hey, buddy!” His words were ordinary, but very clearly filled with contempt. “Whatcha doin’ over there with those kids?”

When the man didn’t answer, Jay stamped a foot right between the man’s legs, impossibly close to his crotch. “C’mon, man. Wontcha explain?”

The panic in the man’s eyes was satisfying, as he began to draw out a pocket knife. 

“S-Spider-Man?!”

Under his mask, Jay cracked a smirk. “Honored to be at your service.”

The man ogled at Spider-Man’s built figure– he stood no chance against the hero. Regardless, he stumbled to his feet, pointing the blade at Jay. “Stay back!”

Jay laughed.

“Oh no! A knife! Anything but the knife!” Jay feigned fear, cowering into himself. “I’m so scared! Please! My biggest weakness is a tiny little knife!”

The man faltered, staring hesitantly at the hero. Jay took this moment to shoot one more web at the street light, giving him momentum to jump in and kick this guy in the face again.

“Oh, man,” Jay chuckled. “That knife really got me.”

“I-I’m sorry!” The man gawked at the hero’s figure standing over him, spluttering as he struggled to his feet and finally scuttling away.

Jay watched his running back carefully.

“Thank you so much, Spider-Man!” he heard the children cheering behind him. Turning over his shoulder, Jay gave them a salute, before shooting a web and swinging away.

When classes for the day ended, Jay Park wanted a head-start on patrolling. The sun was only beginning to set, casting a golden hue over the city. He liked this time of day the most. There was always a faint citrusy smell in the air, and he wished he could take off his mask to feel the wind rake through his hair. 

He checked all the important places– the bank, the university, the bus station, and especially the central business district. The alleyways were crazy notorious for being crime-ridden, so he was extra attentive with the patrol. 

Speaking of, there seemed to be a bit of a conundrum right now. From the top of a high-rise building, Jay’s eyes zeroed in on the figures a few hundred feet below him. It was no uncommon occurrence for there to be some sort of assault (with Spider-Man here, attempted assault) in a dark alleyway. Jay always followed a basic procedure:

Step one: identify what’s happening.

From above, he could see that– oh shit– a woman was going to be mugged. 

Little did he know, much to both of your luck, that woman was you.

Step two: identify the threat.

Two guys, both disheveled, one with a pocket-knife. Even though he couldn’t see your face, just by the looks of it, you were clearly disadvantaged– these two guys were massive compared to you.

“We see ya wallet, girl,” one of the men said. For two people who were very much advantaged, they were rather shy with the knife, holding it low and with little confidence. “Hand ovah the money.”

When you didn’t respond, they got a little more vindictive, slamming the rusted brick wall, demanding for money.

Step three: swoop in and-

Jay was bewildered by the raucous clanking of metal trash can tops against the dirty pavement. Gaping down, he could see one of the men crashed up against the trash cans, and the other one taken aback. 

Did you just…?

Jay was taken by surprise once again when he heard grunting and groaning in pain. You were kicking these men when they were down. With heeled shoes. And it was now that he finally noticed your physicality: [H/C] hair. Glasses. Big attitude. Oh my god, how did he not realize that it was you?

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you landed a kick at the crotch. Jay hissed in pain just at the sight of that. “Huh? You think you own this fuckin’ place?” Another kick. “Fuckin’ scum.”

Jay was contemplating whether or not he should go down there and give you– [Name]-fucking-[Last Name]– a hand. He was going to decide against it, when his spidey senses picked up the very crisp sound of a blade scraping across the pavement. While you were busy cussing out one of the assailants, you didn’t notice the way one of the men unsheathed the pocket-knife. 

Jay could see it— In a matter of seconds, the guy’d bare the blade and shank your right in the abdomen. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, tongue swiping right over his metal lip piercing.

“Hey, fuckface!” In one fell swoop, Jay landed a powerful punch to the blade-bearing assailant’s cheek, sending him flying down the alleyway. you let out a shriek. “Spider-Man?!”

It was weird to see you startled like this. “Hey, Gorgeous.”

In his defense, there was not a bone in his body that thought that you were gorgeous. It was simply a habit he took on when he assumed the role of Spider-Man. He said that to everyone.

The second assailant, the one that you had basically beat up with words, was still keeled against the trash cans, eyes widened and fearful of what the friendly neighborhood hero could do.

Jay leaned down to be at eye-level with the man. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

The man spluttered, and Jay sneered. The kick that the hero gave to the man square in the chest subsequently propelled him down the alleyway, joining his friend at the back. 

“Maybe don’t try to mug someone in broad daylight, bud.”

When Jay heard a few clanking sounds and groans of pain, he turned to you.

You were looking at him with large, shiny eyes, utterly consumed in admiration. Jay cringed at the silence that fell over the two of you. It wasn’t normal for there to be such a calm silence between him and you. If there wasn’t arguing, then there’d be an uncomfortable and tense atmosphere.

“I- Spider-Man…” you said, looking up at him through your glasses. The way that your eyes were practically glued to his masked face had Jay scrunching his nose. After a long silence of you just staring at him, you quickly avert your gaze, finding interest in your shoes instead. God, why were you getting so shy? Seeing the abashed expression on your face was like seeing a police officer get a parking ticket– so fucking out-of-character and just pure unnatural.

Jay wanted badly to make a jab at you, to say, “Hey, Jay Park just saved your sorry ass.” 

But he didn’t. 

Because that’s not what friendly neighborhood Spider-Mans do.

You bit your lip before glancing up at him. It was almost like you could feel his eyes questioning you from behind his mask, and once again, avert your gaze, pushing up your metal frames. 

It was now that Jay truly realized what was going on– Did you have a crush on Spider-Man?

You were acting really shy, and you were looking at him like he was some kind of god. 

The thought made him want to shrink into his own skin, but for some reason, it also made him grin. Grin a smug grin. Because now he had something to dangle over your head.

He didn’t have any sinister intentions other than the fact that he wanted an opportunity to be petty with you.

“Thank you, Spider-Man,” you finally blurted, that bashful look still casted on your face. 

Jesus Christ, the way you were acting soft-spoken and coy was so weird. 

He could do one of two things to fuck with you.

He could be extremely cold and distant, making you feel embarrassed. It would definitely be satisfying to see you panicked and flustered. But then again, Spider-Man’s job was to keep the city safe, not be mean to civilians. Even if said civilian was someone he couldn’t stand.

The second he could do was fluster you in a different kind of way: enthrall you with charm to mess with you. It was certainly a more ethical way to fuck with you, but Jay wasn’t sure if he’d be up for practically flirting with the person he hated more than anything else.

You shyly looked at him, expecting a response.

On second thought, he might be up for it.

He didn’t want to break you. Just fuck with that strong head of yours a little bit.

“Anything for you,” Jay took a step closer to you, just close enough that you would be taken aback, “Beautiful.”

Okay, maybe he should never do that again. Jay was not a lady-charmer. He had no game. There was a reason that he didn’t have a girlfriend, and it was because he could not flirt for shit. His skin was crawling with cringe– what he would do to have the ground open up and eat him whole because that shit was the worst thing he’s probably ever done.

His internal squirming was cut short when he saw the way your eyes widened a fraction, before letting a slight abashed curve settle on your lips. 

“Oh- I-” you lowered your head, your glasses laying on the very tip of your nose. 

“Thanks,” you stammered.

.

.

.

Now it was awkward.

What was he supposed to do now? Kiss you? No! What the fuck?

“I’m gonna go now,” Jay muttered. Extending his arm and aiming it at the top of the adjacent building, he prepared to shoot a web. However, he was stopped when you gently grabbed onto his bicep.

“Wait.” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet, meek almost. “I-I don’t feel safe going home now.”

Jay blinked.

Jay Park never seemed to expect anything. 

For the second time ever, in the same week, he was carrying you across the sky to his own home.

This time, though, you were wide awake instead of black-out drunk.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you clung to him as he held onto your body tightly in the bridal-style. It wasn’t abnormal for him to be carrying a damsel in distress like this, but Jay never thought that he would be carrying you of all people. 

With you clinging so close to him, Jay could smell that sweet, citrusy scent again. He grimaced when he was once again reminded of the events that had transpired a few nights ago. Whenever he thought about it, Jay could almost feel his skin crawl, remembering the wet and sticky kisses placed on his skin.

Jay tried to ignore the way you stared at him so incredulously, wide and glinted as if he was some sort of idol.

As Jay approached the edge of the high-rise office building, he noticed you bracing yourself for the jump You’d been shutting your eyes tightly and letting out a little peep every time he’d jump across buildings.

Maybe he should try fucking with you right now.

Launching off his feet, Jay had propelled the two of you into the wide valley between office buildings. Usually, he’d shoot a web within a few milliseconds of just being the air. However, with you in his arms…

“S-Spider-Man…!” you squeezed his bicep. You were falling…! 

Jay was taking his sweet time with shooting another web, waiting for them to be just a few hundred meters from the bustling and traffic-filled road, giving you the illusion that you were about to topple to your death. 

“Spider-Man, we’re gonna–!”

When you were practically dangling over the cars, Jay shot a web up to the next building, hoisting you two up and away.

“What, you don’t trust me, Beautiful?” Jay got some sick satisfaction from shaking up the usually-controlled you. If he was Jay, he probably would have made a jab, say something like “I told you so,” but since he was Spider-Man he stuck to the flashy and charming persona that the hero built himself.

“I… I trust you, Spider-Man, just– Eep!” 

Jay threw his head back, laughing. It was funny when you got scared.

“Stop making fun of me, Spider-Man!” you lightly slapped his chest. “I’m just…– Eep!--”you squeezed his bicep again– “Scared of heights.”

Jay gave your waist a squeeze. “I got you, Angel.”

It was weird to pull up to his own apartment and pretend that it wasn’t his.

“This your place?”

Jay was curious as to what you would say. He dropped you off on the balcony, before going into his iconic crouching pose on the thin metal railing.

You shook your head. “It’s my… friend’s. I’m staying with him because….”

You trailed off, before your eyes fluttered over to Jay’s masked face. “Hey, didn’t you fight some villain the other day?”

Oh.

Right.

The reason that you were even staying with him was because… Well, him.

Jay nodded slowly.

“Oh- Well, um,” you wrung your fingers. “My apartment, it got… Yeah.”

It was like you could sense the uneasiness behind the mask. 

For the heinous amount of crime-fighting that Jay did, he did feel a little bad for the amount of infrastructure that got ruined. It seemed like every other week there were glass shards strewn all across the streets. He couldn’t imagine the type of work that would go into rebuilding homes and infrastructure after so much damage.

That, he will take responsibility for.

He lowered his head. “Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry about that.”

A civilian is a civilian.

“No, no, no!” you said rather brusquely, almost in a hostile way, waving your hands in front of yourself. 

Ah, there it was. The [Name] that he knew.

When you realized your tone of voice, you quickly back-tracked, clearing your throat and pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I mean- It’s okay, Spider-Man,” you said, looking up at him through your lashes. “You did what you had to do.”

If you knew his identity ,you wouldn't say that. You would probably file a lawsuit against him.

But he appreciated the sentiment.

“What’s your name, Pretty?” He needed you to formally introduce yourself so he could stop using those cheesy nicknames.

You smiled bashfully again. “[Name].”

“Then I’ll see you later,” Jay jumped to his feet, balancing on the metal railing. He looked over his shoulder, raising a hand up, “[Name].”

With that he began swinging away.

You blinked slowly, eyes trailing his slowly disappearing figure.

When he was out of your sight, your lips immediately broke out into a wide grin. Taking off your glasses, you used a hand to cover your eyes, feeling your cheeks heat up and pull upward. 

Oh, you understood it now. Why everyone said Spider-Man was so charming.

Using both hands to cover your warm face, you let a few giggles out into your palms. 

God, Spider-Man was attractive.

Your momentary fluster was cut short when the screen door of the balcony slammed open.

“Are you gonna come in or….?”

You turned to look over your shoulder.

Jay Park. Always had to ruin everything, didn’t he?

You huffed, removing your hands from your face. “Yeah… Just, give me a second.”

“Okay.”

When you turned back, you failed to notice the smug grin plastered across Jay’s face.

You heard from many people that Jay Park had an issue with disappearing. You understood what they meant. In the classes that you shared with him (which was few because your majors were different but similar enough), he would be absent for a few days at a time. At parties, even if you didn't actively seek him out, you’d see him at the beginning and after a few minutes, he’d just completely vanish. Even at some get-togethers that your mutual friends hosted, you’d hear some people complain about Jay always needing to “go to his job.” 

Now that you, more or less, lived under the same roof as him, you understood to a whole other degree what people meant.

According to what his own friends said, Jay had a night internship, and according to his brother, he also had a day job. He didn’t show up to his classes some days, but you would see him in the morning before class alive and well, so he clearly wasn’t having health issues. How crazy was his schedule? You had friends in his major with jobs of their own, and they weren’t flaky in the way that Jay was.

Jay would be up early, completely disappear for the entire day, and come home late.

It was weird. 

Not that you cared.

You could care less what happened to him.

You just found it strange.

Like right now.

It was late at night. Finals were coming up soon, and you simply couldn’t sleep. 

See, Wonnie was normal. Wonnie had an ordinary, completely sane, schedule. In the morning, Jay would take him to school, and in the afternoon (you assumed that) Jay either picked him up or Wonnie walked home. Either way, the kid had a much more tangible daily schedule, yet his brother’s was the complete opposite. But it didn’t seem like Wonnie questioned anything either.

You saw Wonnie come in and out of rooms, heard him get a glass of milk, you even said good night to him. 

The yellow-white lights that illuminated the apartment were blinding now, wearing down your eyes to the point that they felt watery. There was a sort of morose feeling that set over you as you sat at the cold kitchen counter. From final exams to the fact that your apartment was under reconstruction to the fact that you were practically intruding on our greatest enemy’s home was frustrating.

It would be completely bitchy and ungrateful of you to not recognize the sort of generosity that Jay displayed toward you. You really, genuinely, truly, could not stand him. He was someone who constantly made your day worse, someone who you'd never been able to agree with for years, someone who went out of his way to bother you– and vice versa. It wasn’t like you had no idea why he’d try to help you: he might be a supervillain to you, but he was no monster. It was clear that you were on a “I-only-doing-this-because-it’s-courteous” basis, but even then, for him to give you his own bedroom was more than courteous.

You didn’t like it.

Of all people in the world, why did he have to be so… hospitable?

You didn’t like the fact that you felt so dependent and almost helpless. 

You must have sat at that kitchen counter for a good chunk of time, because the next time you really moved from your lethargic position was when there was a sudden bang against the window. Lost in thought, you violently jerked up, jumping to your feet.

Eyes quivering to the windows, which were blackened by the dark night sky, there was nothing there. 

Strange.

You had your tongue dig into the inside of your cheek, frozen in place. Just when you thought your mind was just playing games, another loud bang against the window resounded through the room, followed by a few jumbled curse words.

You weren’t exactly happy that the one time you would get robbed it would be in your enemy's house.

Shit.

Except, instead of a masked burglar comically dressed in black, someone completely unexpected bursted through the window.

Red and blue spandex suit, complete masked-over face, and that unmistakable spider icon.

“Spider-Man?!”

Oh.

My.

God.

Why was Spider-Man landing in Jay Park’s apartment at this time?

And when you looked down at what you were wearing– a thin tank-top and pajama shorts–you suddenly became a lot more alarmed and self-conscious than you initially were.

“[Name]?” Spider-Man gaped. Except instead of that friendly and playful tone he was known for, it sounded sour. “What are you doing up at this time?”

You, who was now very consciously covering yourself up, gawked. “I’m– I was studying– What are you doing here, Spider-Man?”

“What do you mean? This is my ho–” Spider-Man stopped himself, before clearing his throat. Like a switch had been flipped, the hero began again, “I’m, um, stopping by to see my friend.”

You blinked.

“Y’know, Jay Park– dark hair, lip-piercing, super handsome and cool.”

Your nose scrunched at the description.

“I didn’t know you lived with him, Beautiful,” Spider-Man continued. “You said you lived with a friend, right?”

You pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I wouldn’t say friend. We’re like, acquaintances… by association.”

“You don’t sound like you like ‘em very much, yeah, Gorgeous?”

You weren’t about to lambaste Jay Park in front of Spider-man, who was apparently his friend. That would be discourteous, and you weren’t about to flame the guy that was letting you sleep in his house.

“He’s…” You didn’t want to make it seem like you were buddies, especially in front of Spider-Man. “He’s all right.”

Spider-Man was now inching toward you. “Just all right?”

You eyed the hero’s well-built figure as he came closer and closer to you, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. You felt even more shy and exposed when he very clearly lingered around the sight of your silhouette. The way his voice resounded throughout the room, slightly raspy from the yelling he must have done and low due to his exhaustion, sent a chill down your spine. 

“He’s okay,” you responded curtly. “How– How do you know him? How do you know Park?”

You could feel Spider-Man’s eyes on you even through his mask. 

“How do I know him?” Spider-Man crouched down next to your feet at the kitchen island, looking up at you. You could hear the grin in his voice. “He met me in senior year of high school.”

Oh wow. They’ve known each other for a while.

“A spider bit him, or something,” the masked hero continued. “And I found him all sick and sad when his uncle passed.”

That’s right. In senior year of high school, Jay’s uncle, the person who took on a father figure after his parents unfortunately passed. It had taken a toll on him at the time. You remembered passing him in the hallways, seeing the messy black hair overgrown over his brows and dark eye bags. The one person that you regularly debated in AP Macro was no longer interested. At the time, you had contemplated whether or not to reach out to him, but he’d completely shut everyone out.

“That’s great,” you murmured. No matter how much you didn’t like him, it didn’t mean that he should lose someone important to him. “That’s great that he had someone there for him. I remember–”

Spider-Man looked up at you.

“I remember– I tried to talk to him about it once, in… I think it was in Stats?” you recounted. Your lips pressed together before forming a slight curve. “He yelled at me.”

“He yelled at you?”

You almost laughed. “Yeah, he did. Oh man, we never got along in high school– even now– but… It’s not nice to lose someone you love, is it?”

Spider-Man stared at you silently, before quickly agreeing– “Yeah, it isn’t.”

You bit your lip as you recounted. “I wanted to comfort him, but I don’t think he wanted me of all people to do that. At least I tried.” Your eyes fluttered over to Spider-Man. “I’m glad he had someone like you to be there for him.”

Spider-Man didn’t speak.

“Are you and Park close?” you asked.

“Yeah, we are.”

You hummed. “Oh. Do you see each other a lot?”

“Everyday.”

.

.

.

Spider-Man got to his feet.

“[Name], do you want to go on an adventure with me?”

Sometimes you thought you were stupid. Not all the time because you knew you were smart, but some time like now, where you allowed a masked man who may or may have not broken into your enemy's apartment claiming to be his friend to take you around the city at night. And you did it without even telling anyone, so if you got killed in an alleyway no one would know.

Not to worry, though.

Jay Park thought he was pretty stupid, too.

Staying out late at night right before finals week and completely forgetting about the workaholic nerd freak that lived with him temporarily (you). And to make it worse, he mentioned his own civilian self!-- and he obviously couldn’t be in two places at once. 

He needed a way to deflect.

“Wooooh!” Jay hooted as he swung from building to building.

“Spider-Man– Slow down…!”

Unlike the last two times he’d taken you out on some sort of aerial excursion, you had your arms and legs wrapped tightly around his neck and torso, hugging him from the back instead of Jay holding you bridal-style. 

It was nice for a change. For the first time, you were hanging off his back instead of being directly held by him. Jay couldn’t help the snicker that he let out when you would squeeze him and squeal in his ear out of fear.

“I thought ya said you trusted me,” he beamed. Jay could feel the way your face pressed into his back as you dangled in the sky. “C’mon, Gorgeous, don’t get all scared on me now.”

“It’s not fair- Eep!”

“What’s not fair, hm?” He shot another web. You didn't respond, opting to squeeze him harder. “What’s not fair, [Name]?”

“This!” you chided in his ear. “You-You’re not scared because you do this every day!”

“Well, maybe you should do this more then.”

To Jay, it was really weird to carry a frightened you around. He never took you for the clingy type, but maybe there’s a lot he didn’t know about you. It was especially weird when he was Spider-Man, because you were oddly nice to him. When he’s Jay, there’s no denying that you’re hostile.

“Why are you so nervous?” Jay sneered when you two landed on top of the central clock tower. You’d sat down at the top, letting the cool late-Spring night hit you. For someone notorious for their crazy confidence, it was absurd to see such a person all feeble and fiddling with their fingers.

 “It’s just finals,” you mumbled.

Jay nearly laughed. “Wow, you really are a nerdo freak.”

Your cheeks visibly heated up, folding your arms over your chest. “Hey! I’m not a nerdo fre–” You stopped yourself, before you brought your eyes up to the hero. “Did he tell you that?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “W-What?”

“Park is the only person that calls me ‘nerdo freak,’” you frowned, raising up your fingers to make air-quotes. “He’s been calling me that since highschool.”

Oh.

Shit.

“Y-Yeah,” the man responded, sucking in a shallow breath. “He talks to me about you a lot.”

Not true. 

Jay Park doesn’t talk to Spider-Man about anything. 

Because they’re the same person.

You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. “Really? What does he say about me?”

Oh, this would be awkward.

“Jay thinks you’re really… Uhm…”

There’s two things Jay could do. Tell you his (Jay’s) honest thoughts about you as Spider-Man and effectively make the entire atmosphere both now and at home awkward. Though, it wouldn’t be much of a loss because he (Jay) already made it loud and clear how he felt about you through his words and actions toward you. It would only be awkward because he as Spider-Man was the one expressing it.

The second thing he could do was lie.

“He thinks you’re hot as fuck.”

Oh my fucking god what was he doing.

“Oh… uh… Really?”

Jay wanted to kill himself.

Of all things he could have said, he said thats?– Oh my god, and now you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat– What does he do?

Jay Park was not attracted to you and he will never be! Never! Ever!

It was the first thing that came to his mind! He doesn’t mean it! Jay Park hates you! He thinks you’re ugly and- Well, actually, that’s not true. You’re a very pretty woman, he did indeed get crazy butterflies the night of the soccer mixer, and he did catch himself staring at you a few times, because let’s be honest, the tiny tank-top and pajama shorts looked good as fuck on you– but still-!

“Did he tell you that… or…?”

“Yeah, that’s a direct quote.”

Jay Park! What are you doing?

part 2 here

[cute-sucker]

going on a dinner date with season2!rafe after you'd told him you'd broken up was probably your lowest low.

you were still pretty glammed up for him, a tight black dress and glossy lipgloss on your lips. your blush shimmered under the light, and you felt a little ache in your stomach. but the worst part isn't that he's your ex, it's the fact that your panting into his mouth after an hour of meeting.

rafe's got you in the back of his truck, rough hands wiping away tears from your eyes. you're so overstimulated you can't be away from for a second. you need this.

"fuck, i know you've missed this—" he grunted, pulling you closer. you melt into his embrace letting out soft pants. rafe got you pinned down, a cocky little smile on his face as he grabs your clothing to feel you even closer.

you've got your eyes closed, muttering softly to yourself, "i-i-i-i can't do this again!" you cry out, but his skin is too soft on yours, and the way his arm drapes around you leaves you breathless. you've missed this, you can't deny it, but you wonder at what cost your dragging yourself back to step one.

finally he stops kissing you, a harsh breath leaving his lips before you mewl for him. your eyes blink, trying to ajust to the lack of closeness. your hands still reach out for him. always reaching out for him. always.

it's then when you see a bit of darkness in his eyes. the way rafe's fingers glide across your stomach. proding, and a bit demanding. you let out a shaky breath. you can already tell what type of question he's going to ask before he opens his mouth. both of you are waiting for the other to speak.

"did you let anyone touch you?"

you knew it was coming but you still feel stunned. you shake your head in a quick succession. rafe's lips travel down to your earlobe, as you bite your lip.

"no, no of course not," you breath out, voice hitching as you squirm under his touch. rafe's humming, a soft smile on his face as his fingers trail to your jaw. you take a sharp intake of breath. god you hate how much you belong to him. you hate the way his smile makes you heart flutter, or the way that a single touch of his can bring your body to life. he knows you too well.

rafe kisses the space in between your eyebrows, "good. good." and you feel your body relax. you're in the clear, and this is going to fine. you're not going to regret this, because he's changed. he's changed, of course he's changed.

it's only when his fingers stop trailing down your body where you feel yourself tense up, "because i would know...i would know if you have someone around."

you nod, panting softly as you try to kiss him. he just leans away, a sharp look on his face. he's dazed almost as if he's thinking about you with someone else. panic rises in your chest as you try to center him back to you. back to looking at your soft eyes, and rising chest.

"i wouldn't do that to you rafe! you're my one. you're the one for me."

"yeah, yeah," he lets out a small laugh, scratching his chin before looking back at you. his tone is teasing, but you can feel the darker undertones. god, you feel as if you're about to choak, "but my pretty baby also left me...so i'm not sure if i know that you know i'm the one."

"just trust me. please," the last word comes out as a whine, and you know you're begging. you're so close to begging. it's then when he lets out a small laugh, and then a small peck on your shoulder.

"i hope you're not lying to me," his thumb brushes over your lower lip, and the tenderness of the gesture makes your stomach twist. you want to learn into his softness. you want to remember him as somone you can see a future with.

rafe leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers thread through your hair. “because i can tell,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, “when someone’s hiding something.”

now he's leaving small kisses down your neck, and your heart races as he kisses the side of your neck softly, his grip tightening just enough to make you aware of the power he holds over you in this moment. you tilt your head, letting him in, hoping it’ll ease the tension. "rafe, please… i'm not hiding anything."

for a moment, he relaxes, his grip loosening as his hand slides down your neck. “good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your forehead in a soft, almost tender kiss. "i'll drive you home, yeah? i know your parents will be happy to see me."

but even as rafe pulls you close, holding you as if the tension between you has melted away, the ache in your stomach lingers. everyone loves him, you know that, but how much longer can you continue loving him, letting him in?

at least now you know you're on a ticking clock. you know it when rafe puts his hand on your thigh, so you let him put on your favorite singer on the radio, and you let him give you a sweet goodnight kiss, and you let him come into your house.

you know you let rafe do it.

but how much longer can you let him in with the pit of darkness that lurks in his eyes?

[cherrycolored-punk]

NHTK - Chapter One

Masterlist

summary: You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

pairing: brother's best friend! Eddie Munson x fem! Reader, reader is Reefer Rick’s little sister.

trope/themes: forbidden love, friends to lovers

w/c: 5.6k

author's note: this is a repost from my previous blog @strangemagicc and I’ve been debating whether or not I should but I love their story so much. I hope you enjoy ! 🖤 a side note: yes, I did get drunk off my own jungle juice and yes, that did result in the worst sunburn of my life. I pour with a heavy hand.

warnings: angst, mention of cheating (technically not reader), mention of anxiety, brief mention of unwanted touching, underage drinking/smoking, a little sprinkle of smut (does clothed grinding count?). Let me know if I missed anything!

The Cunningham home was packed with bodies, familiar faces, and those you didn’t know. You stood near the front door fiddling with the zipper on your purse as you scanned the room searching for a familiar face.

Party lights bounced off a disco ball that hung haphazardly from a chandelier sending a kaleidoscope of blues and purples dancing across the foyer.

The loud music hummed in the walls, vibrating when the bass dropped. You bobbed your head to it mindlessly, without rhythm, feeling uncomfortable in the swarm of bodies around you. The foyer was crowded with partygoers, some locked in an embrace and others pushing their way up the stairs to the rooms that lined the hallway for some privacy.

Your teeth dug into your lower lip, eyebrows marrying in the middle as you searched above the sea of bodies. You were supposed to meet your best friend, Rachel, outside nearly an hour ago but your shift at Hawk Theater had dragged on, and now you didn’t know where to find her or your boyfriend for that matter.

That’s when you spotted them.

It felt like ice had filled your veins as you watched the way the familiar form of your boyfriend’s lips pushed against your best friend’s. Their mouths a frenzied dance, their eyes squished close. Her hands in his hair, his palms tracing down her exposed skin. You couldn’t move, disbelief keeping you anchored in place and watching the two of them as the rest of the world fell silent. Loud music muffled, and voices drowned out by the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

A shoulder bumped yours causing your purse to fall as a partygoer rushed through the door to where their friends were gathered.

“Fuck,” You blinked rapidly and bent down to grab the black leather, eyes darting around at people’s shoes as you tried to regain your surroundings.

When you stood, you watched as Simon whispered in Rachel’s ear. She let out a small laugh in response to whatever he said before nodding. You began to push your way through the crowd, but bodies pushed back, and you watched as Simon led Rachel up the stairs through a throng of people. Her hand clasped in his, megawatt smile on display, and you wondered if this was the first time he had led her to a secluded room. Wondered how many stolen glances or hints you had missed.

You stopped pushing your way through and ignored the shouting in your head telling you to move, move, move.

What would you do?

What would you say?

Did it matter?

Shoulders pushed into yours as you stood still, wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

You held in the tears threatening to spill, allowing the hurt to settle into your stomach and create a dull ache.

People shoved past you, and you let your body be moved by the crowd as your eyes danced around the house.

For the first time, you noticed the smiling faces and chiseled jaws you’d ignored the past four years.

Squaring your shoulders, you pushed back against the bodies creating a path to the kitchen. Empty bottles and cans littered the counters. White granite stickied with beer and liquor.

You grabbed a plastic cup and waited for your turn at the keg. Jason Carver manned the pump and eyed you as you approached, handing him your empty plastic cup.

“Well, if it isn’t Rick’s little sister,” he started, a fake smile plastered wide on his face. You gave him a sarcastic grin and grabbed for your beer as he topped it off. None too keen on being called, let alone known as Reefer Rick’s little sister.

Jason pulled away, holding your beer just out of reach.

“Your brother was supposed to have someone here supplying the party favors. What gives?”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled. Hawkins’ Golden Boy was always itching for his next fix.

“I’m sure one of his little lackeys is crawling around here somewhere.” You held your arms up, gesturing around you before reaching back up for your drink. He held it away from you again, and your shoulders sagged, annoyance building.

“Come on, Carver. Give the lady her drink,” Another boy grabbed the cup, handing it to you with a soft smile.

He was cute in an obvious way, skin glowing with a fading summer tan that highlighted the blue of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you responded with a small grin, your hand grazing his as you grabbed for your drink.

“Any time.” His eyes held yours, his hand still outstretched and warm beneath your touch.

A perfect distraction.

———————————

Eddie sank into the worn-down couch cushions with a heavy sigh, his legs spread wide so no one would sit too close. Not that they would dare to anyway.

He sat with a view of the foyer and kitchen, both areas crowded with people in various stages of inebriation.

Unfamiliar faces were cast in a rainbow of colors by the party lights illuminating multiple parts of the house. His eyes darted from one room to another.

Empty bottles of hard liquor were toppled against the kitchen counter. Plastic cups littered the room near the two kegs that sat in the middle of the tiled floor, sticky with spilled beer and marred by dirty footprints.

It was a familiar scene, one that played out the same way nearly every weekend since Eddie could remember.

But now his nerves were withering away, disappearing into nothingness as the minutes ticked by. Bored out of his mind.

Another generic pop song blasted through the speakers, another once jock tried to negotiate the price of Eddie’s already cheap supply.

His jaw was set, and if he didn’t need the money so fucking bad, he wouldn’t be here. At another house party for has-beens and once popular teens inching towards full-blown adulthood. No longer barely legal, a year closer to buying beer without sneaking it past an unsuspecting convenience store clerk.

He chugged his beer, streams of amber liquid pouring out on either side of his mouth as he drank harshly. Sloppily. Until the lukewarm liquid was gone and he was staring down into an empty plastic cup. Eddie threw his head against the cushions debating whether another cup of cheap beer was worth giving up his spot on the couch.

And then you caught his eye. Your back pressed to a guy he’d never seen you with.

His brow quirked up curiously as he watched you. The way the hem of your dress inched up with the movement of your hips, the way your eyes were closed as you swayed to the rhythm of the music and took a swig of whatever filled your plastic cup.

Didn’t you have a boyfriend?

He was surprised to see you here. Somewhere seemingly not your scene, surrounded by people he knew you didn’t like.

In truth, Eddie knew very little about you these days. Your interactions had been limited since the two of you worked side by side at the theater. A job he was fired from when the manager caught him making deals on the clock and company property. Since then, he only caught glimpses of you when he came by your house to see your brother. A passing hello or a quick goodbye. Never anything like those days spent conversing by the cinema dumpsters while being scorched by the summer sun.

You turned around and whispered something in the guy’s ear and pointed to your cup before weaving through the crowd.

Your back was to Eddie, hands reaching towards bottle after bottle, shaking them to check their contents. All coming up empty.

He chuckled when you spotted the giant cooler filled with Chrissy’s concoction of jungle juice; a mix of pineapple malibu, cherry moonshine, and fruit punch.

Eddie pushed himself off his spot on the couch and moved through the crowd towards you. Approaching just as you filled the cup to the brim and brought it towards your waiting lips. He pulled the red plastic from your hands and gave you a chastising grin.

“Don’t think so, little Lipton,” he took a swig and raised his eyebrows as the sweetness hit his tongue.

You gave him an annoyed glare and reached for your drink just as he pulled it out of your nearing grasp with an amused grin.

“I’m sorry, Munson, since when did you become an advocate against public displays of intoxication?” You reached up and snatched your cup back from his hand, looking at him with a questioning arch of your eyebrow.

He noticed the way your words were somewhat slurred, your cheeks a shade darker from the alcohol you’d already consumed.

“See you got a new boyfriend,” Eddie stated, jutting his chin toward your dance partner and ignoring the insinuation of your words. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at you with an amused gleam in his eye as he waited for your explanation.

“That guy?” You turned to the cute brunette who was waiting for you to return before looking back at Eddie.

“I just met him like two seconds ago,” you hiccuped and let out a small laugh as Eddie looked back to the brunette who was eyeing him wearily.

“What happened to Simon?”

“He’s probably still upstairs fucking Rachel,” you waved him off and shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“What?” Eddie couldn’t have heard you right. Simon had been your boyfriend since the summer you turned sixteen, having met him while working at Hawk Theater alongside Eddie.

“Look, Munson, is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Your buzzed mind was becoming less cloudy, the feelings you’d been pushing down threatening to come to the surface, and all you wanted to be was distracted.

“Your brother wouldn’t be too happy if I let you get drunk at some house party,” he sighed, changing the subject.

“Well, isn’t it a good thing that he isn’t here, and you can just pretend you didn’t see me?” You smiled over your cup before chugging some of the drink.

The sugary sweetness of the fruit punch nearly overpowered the taste of the strong liquor mixed with it but still, it burned as it went down. Eddie shook his head, his tongue jutting into his cheek to fight the wide grin that threatened to spread at your words.

“I wouldn’t chug that if I were you,” he warned, and you rolled your eyes, removing the plastic from your lips with a scowl pointed in his direction.

“Since when are you such a party pooper?” You poked at his chest with your free hand.

“Plus, I’ve already had a beer or two.” You held up one too many fingers to him as you pressed the cup to your lips and swallowed harshly.

“Come on, (Y/N), this isn’t like you,” he frowned.

“How would you know, Eddie?” You said his name like it was a curse word as you looked at him through hooded eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond when a passerby pushed against him to get through the crowd causing his frame to lurch into yours. A small splash of your drink soaked through your sweater, and you pushed back against his torso instinctively, his chest hard against the palm of your hand.

“Shit, sorry,” his warm breath fanned your face. A hint of spearmint mixed with the scent of cigarettes caught your nose as you inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the sudden contact of his hand against your hip, steadying himself from the crowd's sway.

You gazed up at him, your hand still on his chest, into his wide brown eyes. His cheeks were colored pink as his hand darted away from you.

“Sorry,” he whispered again, and you gave him a sardonic smile, enjoying the way he squirmed by being this close to you. Too close.

“Maybe we should get you home to change,” he pointed to your stained sweater, and you shrugged as you placed your drink on the counter.

“Trying to get me alone, Munson?” You teased, and maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the way you wished his nervous energy was because you affected him the same way he had always affected you.

You pulled at the hem of the green pullover revealing the tight black lace dress you wore underneath. Eddie’s gaze dropped instinctively, eyeing how the material hugged your curves. You grabbed his wrist and dropped the sweater into his open palm.

“Hold onto that for me,” you picked your cup back up from the counter.

“And don’t worry, Rick doesn’t have to know,” you gave him a small wink before turning away from him and pushing back through the crowd.

Eddie stared at you, his mouth agape as you disappeared back into the sea of people and picked up where you left off with your dance partner. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck—the guy whose name you didn’t even know.

Eddie glanced back down at your sweater in his outstretched hand and shook his head unsure of exactly what had gotten into you.

He grabbed another cup of beer and leaned against a wooden beam near the living room, his eyes always finding you when he looked around the room. Eddie made a few deals and sold most of his supply, a few hundred dollars closer to his goal of finally leaving Hawkins behind.

Eddie looked up and watched as stranger boy’s hands drifted down your hips and dug into your thighs. You pushed his hands back up to your waist, your head swaying to the music as the two of you continued to dance.

But stranger boy’s hands crept down your hip once again, inching lower and lower until they glided past the hem of your dress. You stilled and turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. His chest flush with yours, blue eyes dull into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. A flirty smile on his lips.

“Able to keep your hands to yourself, pretty boy?” Although you wanted a distraction, you still had reservations. Boundaries you didn’t want to cross. Not when your still boyfriend was upstairs.

“What’s the fun in that,” He whispered into your ear, palms sliding down and cupping your ass. Your smile fell, and you pushed at his chest, putting space between you.

“Knock it off,” your voice came out louder, barely heard above the music. Eddie tensed and pushed off the wooden beam he’d been leaning on. Your date looked uneasily around the crowd and back at you.

“Don’t be such a tease. You’ve been grinding on my dick for most of the night.” You scoffed at him and shook your head.

Eddie began to walk in your direction, pushing past the crowd that had turned its attention towards you.

“I was dancing,” you corrected just as Eddie approached. His lean frame towered next to you, eyes set on the guy whose name you now didn’t care to know.

“We got a problem here?” Eddie questioned.

“Should’ve expected your brother’s dealer to be your little lap dog,” the brunette laughed, cocky. Annoyance thrummed through your veins, and you began to step toward him but Eddie grabbed your arm, his warm palm pressed against your exposed skin.

“He’s not even worth it,” Eddie whispered and pulled you back, “let’s go.” You nodded at his words and turned to leave with him, emotional exhaustion now weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Eddie followed behind you, ignoring the way the sea of heads watched him like he was some carnival freak on display.

“Stupid slut,” the brunette muttered as he turned towards his friends, and Eddie stopped in his tracks, a dark grin coloring his features.

“On second thought.” He turned and took a wide step, swinging without hesitation. 

His clenched fist connected with the guy’s jaw sending him stumbling back and falling to the ground. Eddie stood over him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Ready for a fight. The guy groaned on the ground, holding his jaw where Eddie’s fist had already left a mark. You stood stunned into silence, the whispers of the crowd breaking you from your reverie.

“Eddie, we should go,” you grabbed onto his hand and pulled as the crowd’s murmurs began to grow louder. A bigger fight could cause the police to be called and Eddie didn’t need a bigger record.

He didn’t budge, gaze still fixed on the guy writhing in pain on the floor.

“Let’s go,” you urged and pulled on his hand hard, this time he followed. You led him through the crowd and out the front door, ignoring the dozens of eyes that watched you leave.

His palm was still pressed to yours when you reached the sidewalk, the night breeze cold against your exposed skin sobering you. You stopped and dropped Eddie’s hand as you looked up to him.

“What the fuck was that?” You pointed towards the house now in the distance with an outstretched hand before crossing your arms over your chest. The moon illuminated Eddie in a hazy white glow, the street lamps dim on the other side of the street.

“Me protecting you?” He questioned, his eyebrows creasing as he took in your sour expression.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Your voice rose.

“That guy had his greasy hands all over you and called you a slut, but you’re mad at me?” His tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and shocked.

“No, I just-,” you sighed and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to put into words how you felt.

Hurt?

Confused?

Angry?

Like a fucking idiot for dancing with some loser at a house party you didn’t even want to be at in the first place.

“Thank you,” you sighed and looked up at him. It was better than an explanation of your misplaced anger.

“I mean it,” you grabbed onto his hand so he knew that you meant it. He looked to your connected hands and back at you.

“Any time, Spielberg,” he gave you a cocky smile and you dropped his hand, watching as he walked past you to his van.

“We agreed you’d never call me that again,” you said through gritted teeth, following behind him. Eddie turned and began to walk backward, keyring twirling on his finger.

“No, you asked me to stop. I never agreed to it.” He stopped in front of his black van and opened the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he stepped aside so you could climb in, presenting the passenger seat as though it were a grand prize.

“I can walk, Eds,” you chuckled and began to walk past him. You figured the night air would do you good. Eddie yanked you by your shoulder reeling you back towards him.

“Get in the fucking car,” he pushed you towards the seat and waited until you were situated before closing the door. He ran around the front of the vehicle and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.

As Eddie started the car you noticed his bloody knuckles. Guilt reared its ugly head and you grimaced at the sight of his already bruising flesh. As he waited for the car to warm up, you rummaged through your bag looking for the travel-sized first aid kit you kept buried at the bottom, and quietly rejoiced when you found it.

Without asking you reached for his hand and settled it into your lap. When he tried pulling away you squeezed his wrist to hold him into place.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, glancing between you and his split knuckles.

“What does it look like?” You gave him a teasing look and grabbed an alcohol wipe, tearing open the package before blotting the pad gently against his skin.

Eddie winced and you looked at him with a silent apology before blowing on his knuckles to help them dry.

His gaze traced the curve of your nose down to the plush of your lips, swallowing hard as his eyes lingered. A little hypnotized, just as you’d always had him. You placed a bandaid on each cut and patted his hand softly breaking Eddie from his trance.

“All better,” you stated and glanced up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, refocusing his attention on the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb. Eddie eyed his bandaged hand resting on the steering wheel as he drove.

Of course, you’d have Hello Kitty bandaids.

He shook his head but couldn’t fight the way his grin grew wide and took over his features.

The two of you drove towards your house in silence, Soundgarden playing low on the radio.

Houses passed in a dark blur, the clouds covering any light the moon had offered. It had been years since the two of you had been alone for more than a passing moment. Not since those days spent at work where Eddie got to know you as more than his best friend’s little sister.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, conflicted by to say or if you should say anything. It didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie who began to glance between you and the road, measuring his words just as cautiously.

“Sorry about your-“

“Do you think-“

The both of you began speaking at once and you chuckled awkwardly as you looked towards him. He nodded at you to go ahead, giving you the floor to speak.

“Do you think we could go somewhere? It could be anywhere, I just really don’t want to go home right now,” you shrugged, continuing to play with the material of your dress.

The two of you were already close to your home, the trees becoming more dense as you approached but he nodded. He turned his van down a different path, the trees opening as you approached the Lake.

The light of the moon and stars glittered off the calm waters, peaceful. Serene. A different scene from the events of the night. He parked near the edge of the trees and killed the lights, taking off his seatbelt before looking at you. Nervous energy hummed in his chest and was evident in the way he bounced his leg absently.

“This good?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded. The guilt had spread and made a home of your chest. Eddie got hurt because of you. Lost out on sales defending you.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you began, your eyes focused on the darkness of the lake.

Eddie watched you, the way your teeth chewed at your bottom lip. Your anxious energy palpable.

“I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in my mess,” you looked at him now and Eddie shook his head.

“Like I was going to let Chris Grandy call you a stupid slut,” he rolled his eyes.

You giggled to yourself. So that was the douchebag’s name.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “Probably was acting like one.”

You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend in your life and he’d spent the night upstairs with your childhood best friend. There was a lot you didn’t know about dating or the rules of flirting. What gave guys the wrong idea or made them think you wanted something more and you kept playing it over in your head wondering what you could’ve done differently.

Eddie’s leg stopped bouncing as he watched you and the anger built up in his chest. He wasn’t mad at you, he was so fucking pissed off that the slime ball made you feel like this. Made you feel guilty for enjoying yourself or question whether you did anything wrong.

“You were having fun,” he started, “and regardless of how you danced or what you said, when you told him to stop he should’ve stopped. Nothing you did or said justifies him being a fucking creep.”

He was seething, you could tell from the way his chest rose and fell. From the way his jaw was clenched, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Munson had always been handsome, cute in a not-so-conventional way. It was the way his curly hair framed his high cheekbones and the plush of his lips. The way his big brown eyes were always animated when he talked about something he liked.

The first time you noticed it, noticed him, was when you were thirteen. You spent that summer blubbering in his presence, finding any excuse to talk to him or go into your brother’s room. The crush never really went away, always lingered in the back of your mind and now in the way your heart thrummed as his gaze was fixed on you. A silent plea begging you to understand what he told you.

It was like a magnetic pull the way you leaned closer to him, eyes trained on his as you inched closer.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me having fun?” You questioned with innocent eyes and looked up at him through your lashes, your face closer to his.

“Why would there be?” He swallowed, his gaze flicking from yours to the pout of your lips.

Eddie was losing the little bit of composure he’d been able to maintain all these years. The warnings your brother had given sounded off like alarms in his head.

“Also, I’m the one who needs to apologize,” he grimaced and began to play with the rings on his fingers, changing the subject. Trying to distract himself from the way the scent of your perfume had him a little disjointed.

“For what?” You pursed your lips, perplexed.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure I left your sweater back there at the party. Nearly one hundred percent positive,” he looked at you with a sideways grimace, already shrinking away as he anticipated your reaction but you only laughed.

“I ruined it with Chrissy’s weird concoction anyway,” you dropped your face into your hand, your body shaking with laughter.

“I still can’t believe you drank that shit,” he laughed with you, “it had me on my ass a few years ago at her Fourth of July party.”

“No way,” your laugh grew louder as you absently held onto his arm, encouraging him to divulge.

“In my defense, those sugary drinks are the ones that get you,” his body shook with his building laughter.

“Could barely taste the moonshine she puts in it so I had a few cups,” he shook his head, “I fell asleep in one of those loungers by the pool and the next thing I remembered was waking up in some random room laughing to myself with the worst sunburn of my life.”

You winced at the picture he painted, imagining his pale skin marred by the sun.

“So that’s why you took my cup,” realization dawned upon you.

“Just trying to save you, little Lipton,” he agreed and you groaned.

“I wish people would stop calling me that. I’m not just Rick’s sister you know?” Your shoulders sagged. It had always been like that.

People, boys, avoiding you because of who your brother was. Ghosting you once they found out your last name, his reputation preceding you. 

Until Simon.

“I know you’re not,” he assured you earnestly.

“You’re definitely just saying that,” you rolled your eyes.

“Since when have I told you something just because it’s what you want to hear, Spielberg?” He emphasized the nickname you hated to prove his point.

You leaned over the middle console and jabbed at his ribs with your finger causing him to jump and grab at your hand.

“This is the thanks I get for saving your life,” he dramatized and grabbed your other hand as he dodged its attack.

He held onto your hands, your laughter mixing with his, and stared up into his eyes.

You could say it was the alcohol still clouding your mind for what you did next, could say it was because you still needed the distraction you sought at the beginning of the night.

Eddie smelled like apple and bergamot, a hint of weed and tobacco. He swallowed hard as you leaned closer. He felt the warmth of your breath against his face and watched as your eyes fluttered close.

He hesitated for a moment before closing the rest of the space. Heart beating faster than it had that night.

Your breath hitched with the first contact of his lips. They were smooth, almost pillowy against your own, as they matched the pace you set. He released your hands and you twined them in his curls, soft like you’d always imagined.

Eddie’s hands fell into his lap and clenched into fists as the kiss deepened, your tongue parting the seam of his mouth. He opened and slowly met yours with the tip of his own.

You tasted like cherry chapstick and fruit punch, sweet like he always thought you would be and it was getting so hard not to touch you.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading to your veins in a low hum and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. His hands left his lap and wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh.

He pulled you across the middle console into his lap and you moved without hesitation, your mouth still pressed to his.

There was an unspoken need shared in the way your mouths meshed, in the way he swallowed your sighs and you elicited his groans. It felt like you were floating, head buzzing from a different kind of inebriation.

You wanted more, you needed more but the bright lights of a passing car broke you two apart.

Eddie stilled beneath you and pulled away from your still-pursed lips.

“Shit,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he hit his head against the headrest.

You bit into your lower lip and played with the material of his black t-shirt, looking at him curiously. Confusion evident on your brow.

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head, eyes still closed as his fingers traced absent lines back and forth over your naked thighs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he shook his head and you stilled.

“We shouldn’t be or you don’t want to be?” You felt as though he was making an excuse, trying to let you down easily instead of telling you that he regretted kissing you.

“Shouldn’t be,” he lifted his head and finally opened his eyes.

He brought his hand to your face and held you, tracing an absent thumb over your cheekbone.

“Who says we shouldn’t be?” You leaned into his touch and rubbed your hands over his chest, enjoying the way his heart thrummed against your palms.

Eddie had trouble concentrating, distracted with you pressed against the evidence of his budding arousal.

Even in the silence you both knew the answer to his question, the boundary that had always been there. Invisible but palpable.

You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

“You know who,” he finally responded, hands gripping your thighs as you shifted in his lap and you smirked. Enjoying the way Eddie Munson looked a little dazed beneath you.

“Nobody has to know if you don’t want them to,” you muttered as you leaned closer, your breath fanning his face. Lips enticing him and he swallowed hard. Resolve wavering under the intensity of his want.

He closed the little space that remained between the two of you, lips not as gentle as before when they pressed against yours. His kisses were hungry. Needier than before.

It felt like he was kissing you like he’d always wanted to, but you didn’t dare hope for that type of reciprocation. Satisfied to have him bucking into your clothed pussy, moans escaping his lips as he held you against him and ground your hips over his boner.

You moaned as he peppered kisses down your jaw and across your neck, nibbling against the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Leaving his marks where everyone could see.

Where Simon could see.

You stilled for a moment but a moment was all Eddie needed to stop, to regain clarity. To push you off his lap with a heavy sigh, a quick rise and fall of his chest. You sank into the passenger and stared at him, your breaths matching his.

“We need to stop,” he shook his head and took a deep breath, running his sweaty palms over his pants. You only nodded, your voice lost as your thoughts collided with each other. Confusion etched into your forehead.

Eddie adjusted his jeans and looked over his shoulder before reversing his car. He needed to get you home before his resolve completely dissipated. Before you did something with him that you might regret like the others.

You fell into silence, eyes trained on the passing trees that were barely visible under the pale moonlight. Embarrassment clung to you, sticky and suffocating. Rejection mingling with the hurt that was beginning to resurface.

The short drive to your house was quiet and you didn’t turn to say thank you as you hopped out of his van.

You clamored through your door, the quiet of your empty house greeting you.

Eddie watched as you slipped into the darkness of your home, and a wave of guilt settled over him as he remembered your brother’s words. As the image of your confused face resurfaced behind his closed eyes. He thumped his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly.

“Fuck!”

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