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kumkaniudaku · 3 months ago

Text

Group Project

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.9k

MASTERLIST

"Okay. I think…I think I'm ready."

For seven straight days, Asia moved through life, reliving her response to Kelvin and feeling like she'd just written a check her ass couldn't cash. The real thing. What the fuck had she agreed to?

As she sat next to Sabrina with her feet submerged in tepid, bubbling water, the reality of sex unspooling from a far away abstract thought into a tangible possibility with only hours separating her from facing her wildest fantasies smacked her so hard in the face she almost choked on the flat champagne sliding around her plastic cup.

"Are you all right over there?" Sabrina asked without looking away from the laminated list of pedicure options.

Asia attempted to take a steadying breath between coughs. "I think I'm dying," she sputtered. Another sip of the offending beverage helped force down residual mucus until she was able to speak without her throat burning. "Honestly, that might not be such a bad idea."

"Oh, girl. You're losing your virginity, not going off to fight on the frontlines. Tighten up!"

"Sabrina," Asia whisper-yelled before shooting a nervous grimace meant as a smile to a few older women thumping about in the massage chairs across from them. "You wanna tell everybody my business over the PA system or tap folks individually?"

Rolling her eyes, Sabrina passed the laminated menu of pedicures to Asia before taking a sip of red wine. "I'm just sayin', friend. I came out today to help you loosen up, but you're stressin' me out. If you're having second thoughts, I'm sure your man will let you reschedule. I heard y'all on the phone earlier. He seems nice enough."

"I don't want to reschedule. I wanna do it tonight. I'm just…I don't know. I'm nervous about the before stuff. If that goes wrong, the whole night is ruined."

Asia had spent the better part of a week trying to negotiate with the truth, only to realize that reality drove a hard bargain. She couldn't escape the rising tide of nascent romance threatening to wash away all her preconceived notions about her place in love land. He had to know their no-strings-attached suddenly developed enough strings to power a symphony.

For years, she'd convinced herself that time had passed her by. There were no more opportunities for first dates or first kisses. Men worth their snuff in the world wouldn't waste their time with a woman so demonstrably unsexy that she made Mother Teresa look like a lingerie model. Long-term relationships were for your early 20s. And if those days were lost to being dismissed by any potential love interest within the county line, one was essentially doomed to a life of pet-fostering and spending Valentine's Day indoors to avoid spilling your patheticness on people who'd figured out the game.

Then came Kelvin, who, by all accounts, seemed to neatly pack each of her insecurities and hang-ups into a tiny box before chucking them into the wind. Asia couldn't understand why he hadn't dropped the entire experiment to canoodle, with women undoubtedly vying for his attention. She knew falling for your first, no matter what stage of life the experience found you, was a rookie mistake. But, the wrongs felt so right with him. How could she not at least try?

Sabrina paused her perusal of neon gel nail lacquer and smiled at her friend. "That boy likes you, Asia." Her matter-of-fact delivery came with a light chuckle as she pushed Asia's shoulder for emphasis. "He's not taking you on a date and sending flowers to the house because y'all are best pals. You can spend today worryin' yourself crazy, but I'm tellin' you it's for no reason. Get out of your head. Take it from somebody who is just now realizing her man never really liked her."

"Damn. I'm guessing you and Eric are back off?"

"Girl, yes. For good. But whatever, it's fine." Sabrina scoffed, waving Asia off as if her split second of vulnerability was nothing more than an observation about the weather, and smiled. "Today's about you! We gon' get these nails done, grab you something sexy for the art hoe, and teach you how to use lube. Condoms are being used, right?"

Asia's eyes darted around the room to catch horrified reactions from anyone who might've heard her business being openly discussed. "Bitch!" She lowered her voice before responding. "Yes, we are using condoms. I went and got them myself."

"That's what the fuck I'm talking about. I got this silicone-based lube that I know you'll love. Makes it feel like nothing's separating y'all. My girl is rubbing fronts tonight! Yesss!"

"Oh God," Asia groaned as she slouched further into her chair, wishing she could poof into a thin layer of pixie dust if it meant she could escape embarrassment. "I'm gonna die."

Throat clearing and the grating squeak of leather under shifting weight stopped Sabrina's ongoing teasing mid-sentence to bring their attention to a greying black woman with curiosity etched in her barely wrinkled face. "Now, I know y'all weren't talking to me, but I need the name of that lube. Do I need to order it off the Amazon? I just got Prime from my son for Christmas."

"Oop. I got you, Auntie. Let me see your phone."

While Sabrina drew in a small crowd of elders looking to get back in the saddle with some slippery assistance, Asia found solace in another scroll of her favorite text thread.

Can't wait to see you later Missed your face this week

Kelvin's last message included an air kiss gif that Asia would consider corny if not for the sender. Pitch decks, client meetings, and last-minute PTO set them on paths winding in different directions, stealing away all chances at a face-to-face meeting before they were body-to-body.

If not for an impromptu call before the sun could fully take its rightful place in the sky, all communication would belong to iMessages full of jokes with no context and memes they considered fully fleshed-out thoughts.

Asia read each message repeatedly just to feel the flutter of butterflies in every corner of her belly. He liked her. He had to. The sweet messages, the peach tulips bound in a pretty brown bow, and the early morning wake-up call couldn't all be kind gestures from a friend. Right?

An internal battle between logic and wishful thinking played out in Asia's mental colosseum. She volleyed a million possible outcomes back and forth until stilted buzzing and a quiet trill against her wrist drew her attention to an incoming FaceTime call from the man of the hour.

She slid in an earbud and then answered, instantly smiling as she watched his chain bob back and forth with every step while he kept the camera positioned below his face. Grown-out facial hair created the right amount of scruffiness to turn the heads of young and old women alike. His baseball cap cast a shadow across his cheeks. A cerulean sky boasting specks of fluffy white clouds and bright rays of flattering light highlighted the gleam in his earrings. It fanned outward, turning him into a walking, talking work of art.

When he finally realized the call had connected and he had the rapt attention of his lone audience member, he looked down and grinned. "What's all that about?"

"All what?"

"That little smile," he chuckled. "You showin' teeth and everything, girl. Must be happy to see me."

Caught. Asia tried to return to a neutral expression but found her face ignoring mental orders to accommodate more and more cheek burning as her smile grew wider. "Whatever! This is your second time calling. You need something, or you just like to hear me talk?"

"Both," he answered, splitting his attention between an incoming crosswalk and the screen. The usual playfulness in his tone abruptly dissipated, leaving behind a seriousness Asia hadn't experienced. He looked down at her and licked his lips before speaking again. "I just, um…I wanted you to know that I'm cool with not staying the night. That was one of your rules, so don't think you have to change it on account of me. I'll leave in the middle of the night if that means you're comfortable."

"I want you to stay, Kel. But only if you want to."

"I already got my bag packed with extra pajamas and my laptop just in case this turns into a whole weekend. C'mon, now. This me you talking to!"

Asia lifted a brow, shocked by his eagerness to spend days on end in her cramped apartment. "My bad! Didn't know you'd be so excited for a sleepover with little 'ol me."

"I'm always excited to be with you," he answered. Dual smiles radiating from opposite ends of the city held steady over the phone until Kelvin pulled open a door and ushered in a harsh mix of sounds. "I gotta go. My boy's already on my ass for being late. He about to lose his tip, to be honest."

Asia's laughter drew attention, forcing her to shoo Sabrina away before she could interrupt. "Go ahead and get your haircut. Let me see when you're – girl, go away!"

"Tell your girl I said 'hey,'" Kelvin chuckled as he eased his way into an empty barber chair. His eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, trying to commit her scrunched nose and knitted brows to memory in case their time together was winding down. "I gotta go. I'll see you later, pretty."

Her farewell was lost to petty arguments with her best friend on her end and a groundswell of hooping and hollering behind an offending opinion amongst a shop full of men on his side. A huff of air pushed past his lips in a short laugh as he slid his phone into the front pocket of his jeans.

His barber and friend, Brandon, shook his head and tapped his foot on the pedal to lift Kelvin to the right height. "That's shorty from the bar that night? China?"

"Asia," Kelvin corrected, a miffed frown deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth. "And, yeah. That's her."

"My fault. You be way too secretive though, bro. How did y'all meet? Do you like her? Y'all just kickin' it? Tell me something, or I'm fuckin' up the fade."

Black nylon cascading in front of his face gave Kelvin a split second to decide how much information he could share with his notoriously talkative right-hand man without opening the door to prying questions and needless revelations.

He scratched at the itching hair on his jawline, trying to appear nonchalant. "We met at work. She was new, I showed her around, and now we cool. Simple." An instant smile betrayed his forced tough-guy act.

"Nah, you cheesin'! Tell the real story!"

The poker face he'd tried to maintain continued to slip into a full display of all thirty-plus teeth.

"Alright, alright," Kelvin conceded. For months, he kept the truth relegated to his personal journal and mental interviews with Jimmy Kimmel while he practiced for superstardom in the shower. At least one other person should hear how he willingly tangled himself in Asia Scott's web. "I actually saw her when she interviewed. Bad, bro. I'm talkin' make you stop in your tracks just to watch her walk by type fine. Had me stuck at the coffee bar looking stupid."

Brandon hummed as he pushed Kelvin's head down to start his cut. "Mhmm. That's how it starts, for real. She said something to you first, or what?"

"Nah, I approached her. Not even trying to cross that line, really. I was supposed to just say what's up and keep it professional, but I couldn't stop talking after that. Next thing I know, we eating lunch, and I'm askin' this girl about her goals and shit." Kelvin laughed to himself while internally watching the memory unfold like a rom-com for his heart and mind only. "She ain't ask nothin' about me, and I ain't even care. I just wanted to be around her."

"Sound like you got it bad, my boy."

Kelvin released an air he didn't know he was holding through his nose. "Yeah, man. I like her. A lot, actually. I'm thinkin' about saying something when we go out tonight, but…I don't know. It might not be the right time considering what I got goin' on."

"They must be talkin' 'bout some money in Chicago."

"And then some," Kelvin added. "Crazy perks, revenue share, development plans. My whole life might change."

A loose connection from portfolio school and an expensive cold brew on a rainy weekday afternoon turned Kelvin's professional world upside down in less than two weeks. Initially, he wasn't interested in a move, even if the current work was no longer challenging and forward motion had stalled. His job was easy, flexible, and enough to pay the bills with a little extra on the side. But, a half-hour chemistry meeting with two creative leads over Zoom ran fifteen minutes too long from vibes alone. Then, solid chemistry turned into a first-round interview with a few department heads ogling over his professional and personal work for almost an hour before promising to keep in touch. Radio silence on their end for over a week convinced Kelvin that the circus was over, and he was free to go back to his life of easy money for even easier work. Hell, he didn't want to live in cold-ass Chicago anyway.

Then the phone rang. And the inbox blew up. Flights got booked. Hotel arrangements were made. Hasty, last-minute PTO requests were granted in good faith. Tired eyes shielded by blue light lenses watched clouds part over a glittering city from thousands of feet in the air. A non-traditional second-round interview over piping hot pizza turned him into the center of attention. Corporate banter while he sipped freezing cold beer in lower-level seats at a Bulls game ended with a handshake and Kelvin sensing that he'd have a decision on his hands in the coming weeks.

Asia. She popped into his mind more than a few times while too-cool advertising types wined and dined him in hopes his talent would fill out their roster. All of the progress, all of the accidentally tender moments and slip-ups he knew in his heart were more than happy accidents flooded him with ceaseless anxiety. Sure, he could see them planning weekend trips back and forth to keep the flame alive in a budding relationship. Long-distance courtship wasn't ideal, but he'd manage for her. However, his feelings about the matter were inconsequential. One false move, and he'd be out of a friend and potential lover. The thought alone threatened to upend a night he'd carefully planned since they agreed to their unconventional arrangement.

The soft buzz of clippers near his right ear rescued Kelvin from spiraling as chunks of dead hair fell around him.

"Aye, man, I ain't no love expert or nothing, but," Brandon started, his attention far off while he focused on his money-making blend. "You like her. I could tell when you brought her over to us that night, but I ain't wanna blow up your spot. Might as well say something. Why you wanna go to Chicago with regrets? You already 'bout to be up there with a slaw ass haircut because I ain't givin' up no contacts. Lose my number after this, nigga."

Kelvin kissed his teeth and waved Brandon off. "I deleted your contact this morning if we being honest. Been tired of your ass."

Shared laughter between two men who'd seen each other, from the naivety of boyhood to the hurdles and joys on the journey to becoming a man, added levity to a bitter inner storm. Kelvin tried to savor the moment and advice without dwelling on impending decisions but found the task harrowing once he popped the bubble they'd created to re-enter the real world.

Regrets. Kelvin had a lot of them. Skipping out on senior prom, not answering his sister's FaceTime call for free Kendrick Lamar tickets, choosing that sketchy roommate to make ends meet in his first year out of school – the list went on and on. Asia couldn't be one of them. Not knowing if there could've been more would gnaw at him til kingdom come, and he didn't have room to harbor more what-ifs.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Asia, half listening to instructions with sweaty palms and a heart nearly cracking ribs in his chest, Kelvin resolved to use his last bits of nerve to step out on a limb.

Sax heavy jazz selections wrapped a rented test kitchen and the couples within its walls in a sensual embrace under dim yellow light. Kelvin had TikTok and a favor to thank for snagging the final spot in Shawn and Terricka's coveted Couples Night In cooking course. In one night, he and Asia would take a culinary trip to Italy, complete with expert wine pairings and handmade pasta to bring them together as two parts of a whole. Kelvin couldn't say he was much of a fettuccine, linguini, bow tie, rigatoni guy. Still, he'd never forget how Asia's face lit up when she showed him videos of young women making noodles from scratch. He went to the ends of the Earth and his wallet to orchestrate an experience she wouldn't forget on a night when every detail down to the minute required perfection.

"Are you listening?" Asia asked with a teasing smile as she adjusted the complementary apron, shielding her from what was sure to be a mess if she had anything to do with it.

He puffed his chest and straightened before clapping his hands and looking around their station at the ingredients in front of them. "Y-yeah. I heard everything she said. Eggs, flour, this thing…" He paused to satisfy his curiosity with a single crank of the pasta roller's handle before continuing. "It's, uh…all here."

Asia watched him search the depths of his mind for any crumb of retained information, enjoying the way his lips shifted back and forth in pensive silence.

Overhead light bathed Kelvin in a flattering glow, making the small stud in his ear and the watch on his wrist shine each time he moved his head. A soft black cashmere cardigan cradled strong arms, while his signature crisp white T-shirt displayed his broadening chest. His fresh haircut and trimmed facial hair sent tingles to all the right places, reminding Asia of the first time she noticed he was fine.

"You're cute when you pretend you know what you're doing."

Kelvin gave her a half smile without tearing his eyes away from the short list of step-by-step instructions in his hand. "Oh yeah? Only then?"

"Well, all the time. But especially when you're thinking. Like how you're trying to remember Terricka's instructions when she hasn't even given us any yet. She was introducing the class and telling us we'd be sharing a little about ourselves in a bit.”

A sheepish grin preceded a gentle bump against Asia's forearm before Kelvin's shoulders bounced in quiet laughter. "Why you doin' me like that? If you didn't look so damn good in this dress, we'd have a problem."

"Oh, so it's the dress?" Asia quipped as Kelvin leaned back for a better look.

He nodded and reached out to pull her closer by the waist. His lips quickly found a home on her ear to keep their conversation private in a room full of chattering adults. "It's more than the dress. You're gorgeous, baby."

Sweet compliments mumbled against soft, brown skin drowned out couple after couple sharing their names, length of relationship, and fun facts until a loud hand clap snapped Asia and Kelvin's attention to the center of the room.

"And you two," Shawn questioned with all eyes directed toward the youngest two in attendance. "Tell us about your love."

Kelvin gripped Asia tighter and cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm Kelvin, and this is Asia."

"Hey, y'all," Asia chimed with a quick wave.

"And we're…" Kelvin looked at Asia, smiling at her while she smiled back at him, to find an explanation for what they'd been doing for a month. "We're enjoying our time together." His gaze remained steadfast on Asia's bashful grin. "Maybe we'll finish tonight on a different note, though."

Red wine, teamwork, and a stack of questions printed on thick white note cards would ensure that the pair at least ended their first date with a greater understanding of each other. Asia learned Kelvin was an artist in every sense of the word. He preferred freestyling the tedious pasta recipe when directions called for specificity in every regard. Asia kept them on task, but not without redirecting her excitable companion along the way.

Kelvin quickly discovered that all of Asia's know-how completely disappeared when faced with kitchen matters. She didn't know a ¼ cup from a half and didn't have any intentions of learning. Her forte was delegating tasks, not sullying her painted fingernails and oiled cuticles with egg yolks and wet dough.

Separately, they were a clusterfuck of missing parts trying to navigate an arduous task. Together, though, they crafted the best mafaldine their instructors for the night had ever seen from amateurs.

Tucked in a corner at the far end of the space's makeshift eating area, Kelvin and Asia plucked cards one after the other in a back-and-forth Q&A over flavorful mafaldine pasta bolognese.

"Mm, this is a good one," Asia said after a sip of cabernet. "What is your favorite thing about your partner? What's one thing you would change?"

Kelvin twirled pasta around his fork and thought for a moment. "You don't take a lot of shit. I like that you're very direct and in charge of what you want."

"And something you would change?"

"That's easy," he answered through a chew. "You're too hard on yourself. I wish you could see yourself how everyone else sees you. I know you think we're all just being nice, but you really are incredible. I love watching you blossom." Kelvin watched Asia digest his words over her glass, the wheels churning in her active mind. He reached across the table to grab another card. "What's one thing you want me to know about our relationship?"

That I'm falling for you, and I don't want this to end. One hundred answers flooded in at once, but Asia settled on one. "I want you to know how appreciative I am for…all this. You've been kind when you could've called me a loser and left me in that bar to be with your friends."

"I wouldn't have done that, Asia. Not to you."

"I know," Asia assured as she dragged the last vowel. "But, you could've. So, thank you for being so kind and patient. By tomorrow, that'll all be done, and we'll go back to our lives, so I didn't wanna miss the chance to let you know how I feel."

Confusion made Kelvin tilt his head to one side, studying her face under the haze of full-bodied wine and growing affection. "Go back to my life? Where's that coming from?"

"I just mean, it seems like we're coming to the natural end of this thing we're doing. We'll still be friends, but you'll be free to fly. Maybe sweep somebody off their feet. You're good at that," Asia clarified, her smile lingering as the familiar bloom of feelings coursing through her veins made her stomach flutter.

Kelvin placed his fork against his plate before pulling the napkin from his lap and depositing it on the table. No regrets. Now or never. A short laugh brought with it a charming grin aimed at his favorite girl.

"Asia, I guess haven't been super clear with you from the start," He started while motioning for her hand in the center of the table. Asia answered his wordless call and placed her fingers in the center of his warm palm. He leaned closer, hoping she could detect his eyes' sincerity when he finally breathed out, "I like you, Asia. Shit, even 'like' is too small," He laughed. "I…I adore you. I crave you. I look forward to seeing you. I think about you constantly. I feel connected to you. I want to be with you. Does any of that make sense?"

Asia sat stone still and unblinking for a moment, mulling over words she had only dreamt of hearing from another. An explicit declaration of intent – feeling foreign in her ears but familiar to a heart that longed for reciprocation.

Her thumb caressed the back of Kelvin's hand as a smile spread her cheeks to their limit and deepened dimples she almost forgot existed. "Guess I'm a better kisser than I thought, huh?"

"Actually, I don't know. Let me check real quick." Metal dragging across stained concrete brought Kelvin's chair closer to Asia until their knees touched, transferring heat between their bodies. His fingers grazed her jawline, never averting his attention from her equally unwavering gaze. "Come here."

Asia's favorite command, delivered in a sultry mumble, made hair all over her body stand straight up as they moved to meet each other in the middle.

One tentative peck introduced a slow progression of deep, passionate kisses, translating latent feelings into a language only bodies could speak. A barely audible moan slipped out of Asia's mouth when Kelvin nipped at her lip, reminding them an audience wasn't far away. They pulled away slowly with equally glazed-over eyes and goofy grins.

Kelvin smiled and swiped at Asia's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Way better." He listened to her sweet giggle, grinning back until the sound reminded him of the question left unanswered. "Look, four weeks didn't spark how I feel about you. They helped, don't get me wrong, but I knew I wanted you as more than a friend the second you strolled into that office. If we're not on the same page, I understand. But if there's any chance we are, any chance –"

"We're on the same page, same sentence, same word. But we can talk about what all that means tomorrow, okay?" Carnal desire propelled Asia forward for another slow kiss and feather-soft caress that threatened to bring Kelvin to his knees. She inched away to keep her lips on his as she spoke. "Right now, take me home. I don't wanna wait anymore."

------

Hopefully, Alister liked SZA.

As barely intelligible love songs oozed from her Bluetooth speaker, Asia attempted to stifle sounds of pleasure with her forearm pressed against her mouth and one leg draped lazily over her lover's shoulder. Languid, thorough oral affection kept her lower back levitated off the mattress. Soft moaning melding with subtle slurping and smacking treated her ears to a beautiful symphony catered to her.

Kelvin's fingers pressed into Asia's flesh to keep her steady while he lapped at the beginning of what he hoped was only her first orgasm for the night. Nervousness had him self-conscious. Skills he'd practiced and mastered long before she stepped into his life felt foreign. Was he doing it right? Did she like it? Was she happy? He suppressed the urge to question her satisfaction, instead leaning on every wanton sigh and muffled moan as proof he was on the right path.

"Oh my God," Asia whispered to the ceiling. "Don't stop!"

Immeasurable euphoria washed over her naked body as her hips bucked to accommodate electric shocks from head to toe. Hey, eyes crossed behind closed lids. Her toes curled while all ten fingers gripped the sheets.

"One down," Kelvin thought to himself as he smiled against thighs pressed tight to his face.

If not for her hand prying his face away after she'd exhausted herself from cumming, he'd start from scratch and bring her to the mountaintop until his jaws locked. But, he relented under her breathless pleas for a break.

Slowly, Kelvin kissed his way up Asia's belly, making pit stops at both breasts and his favorite spot beneath her right ear before connecting their lips. They groaned at her taste intermingling with remnants of alcohol while their tongues reacquainted in a waltz too perfect to be a sin. He could feel his rational thoughts running south to stiffen his neglected member against briefs, growing more and more uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Kelvin shifted his attention back to Asia's neck so he could speak against the spot. "You feel ready or need more?" His tongue sliding across the pulsing stretch of hot skin made Asia shiver under his body weight. He smiled and pulled back to get a better look at Asia's face. "You feel ready. Talk to me, pretty."

"Okay," she answered as her arms encircled his neck. "Promise you'll go slow?"

He nodded before dipping his head to peck her lips. "As slow as you need. I'll take care of you."

Years of waiting for someone to cherish her enough to take the plunge had culminated in undergarments discarded across the room and a single sleeve of thin latex covered in expensive lube separating her from the only man to see her in her most vulnerable form.

This was it. This was the moment. She'd dreamed about it plenty of times, imagining the most minute details, from the weather to how she'd sound at the height of her climax. Mirages filled with rose petals on the floor and a soft breeze coming through the window made up a scenario better suited for a romance novel than the reality of finally releasing pent-up sexual tension.

Asia expected pain for the first time. She'd heard the horror stories and done enough research to know what was waiting on the other side of first-time penetration. Breathing recommendations and practiced facial expressions to mask her true feelings came flooding back to the front of her mind as Kelvin ran his palms up and down her hips to soothe her while he positioned himself at her entrance. She held her breath. Waiting, anticipating limb-splitting fire to consume her body.

But, as Kelvin slowly sank into her and twin groans of pure, unadulterated ecstasy eclipsed the opening notes of Love Galore, all of her assumptions became background fodder.

Asia gripped Kelvin's tensed bicep while he stilled deep in her heat, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. "You okay," He questioned through shallow pants.

"Mhmm," she hummed before reaching to bring his face closer. "You feel so good already." Kelvin closed his eyes to will away premature release while she pulsed around him. Asia stroked his cheek and arched into his chest to beg him to move inside her. "Please. I trust you, Kel. It's okay."

As promised, Kelvin started slow, rolling his hips into her for shallow strokes that made Asia's voice hoarse and her head spin. He reveled in the feel of ridged walls greeting his arrival as they tugged and released him according to pace. He lowered himself into the crook of her neck and felt instant relief when she cradled him close. The bed creaked in time to every measured back and forth, adding another layer to the duet their individual moaning created.

Hot, slick skin on crumpled cold sheets wouldn't allow Asia to drift too far into La La Land. She feasted on Kelvin digging deeper and gripping her tighter while her body did the work to accommodate inch after glorious inch.

Kelvin tried to remain quiet, tempering each grunt and unidentifiable sound as his hips loosened to find a rhythm perfect enough to elicit high-pitched mewls from the apple of his eye while she dug her fingernails into his back.

"Look at you," Kelvin cooed as he pushed back up onto his forearms to get the full experience of Asia's face twisting in pleasure. "You're so fucking pretty. Open your eyes."

"Kel…"

He moved to bring one leg up to his waist for a new angle. "I'm right here, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me. Your first time only happens once. Don't look away." He waited patiently for Asia to force her sagging lids open enough to reveal the punchdrunk haze of a methodical fucking. He smiled down at her. "There she is. How you feelin'?"

"So…oh my God…so good."

"That's what I like to hear. I feel you getting close. You feel that?"

A long, choppy moan came out before Asia's slurred response. "Mhmm. I think I'm…. mmm, I think I'm… I'm close."

"Yeah, you are. Relax for me. Breathe deep." Asia tried to keep track of instructions but lost the plot and her sense of hearing the moment Kelvin slipped his hand between them to rub her clit with his thumb.

The barely familiar coil of release tightened in her lower abdomen as Kelvin rocked into her while whispering sweet everything onto the corner of her mouth. Asia wrapped her arms around his shoulders for stability, anticipating the first wave of heat trying to prepare her body for something more intense.

Her breathing grew rigid. The world slipped away pixel by pixel. Thoughts turned into mush. Kelvin's instructions returned as fleeting anecdotes. Asia tried to breathe through it but found the task playing second fiddle to the natural tense and release of her thighs around his waist.

In through your nose, Asia. The reminder pinged around the empty corners of her mind until they found a way to burrow into the only functioning part of her brain.

Kelvin watched her cycle through a range of all too familiar feelings from overhead, pride, and a competitive spirit he thought he left in high school, convincing him to go above and beyond. He drove his hips a little harder to hear the headboard thumb against paper-thin drywall. Added pressure on her sensitive button was the magic key to turning a small pond into one of the great lakes.

Asia's jaw dropped to force out a throaty, "Fuck, baby…yes!" before he eased up to allow her to experience all the joy of post-coital bliss without the overstimulation. He'd save that for another time if the universe allowed.

Sabrina was so wrong about what to expect. All Asia's hang-ups about ending the night unsatisfied or unimpressed were washed away as sensation returned to her fingers and toes.

"Kiss me." It's all she wanted – Kelvin's lips on hers until her oxygen became his.

They lay there, hot, sweaty, and still connected at the waist while Kelvin pressed tender kisses on Asia's lips. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "You called me 'baby.'"

"I know," she answered as she brought her hand up to rub a spot at the base of his neck. "I meant to. Don't make me regret it."

Guilt smacked into Kelvin like an 18-wheeler, but he maintained his composure to maintain the hopeful smile on Asia's face. "I won't."

"Good. Don't hold back on me this time. I want all of you."

"This time" turned into another, a short break and a few more for good measure while SZA sang them into the wee hours of the morning. Kelvin poured himself into making every minute worth Asia's while as a reward for trusting him with her body.

Chicago and its host of budding issues belonged to another day. He wasn't leaving the room, her apartment, or the city with any regrets. Not while he still had so many more lessons to teach.

-------

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers @wowitsafemale @kindofaintrovert @sexysativa605 @jvzmine19 @turn-thy-paige @lapateeserie @simplyzeeka @supremechae @palmstreesallday @blackmoonchilee @ovohanna24 @prettypynklemonade @gwenda-fav @itsash-okay @sparklytemi @blackchickinthedesert @miyuhpapayuh

#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc #kelvin harrison jr. smut

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honeytonedhottie · 8 months ago

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financial literacy continued⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💵

so i released a poll if you guys would like a post on financial literacy and the results are here. so im gonna share some things that i learned while taking a financial literacy course…💬🎀

HOW TO SAVE MONEY ;

automatically deposit a certain percentage of ur income into ur savings account so that u dont even have to think about it

to do something more FUN tho, (at least in my opinion) is to make a challenge where u have to save every $10 dollar bill, or $20 dollar bill or whatever. just something to make saving money seem like a game if u wanna have some fun with it.

EMERGANCY FUND ;

most experts will tell u that ur emergency fund should be 3-6 months of ur needed expenses. so calculate ur needed expenses and multiply that by 6 to figure out how much you'd need to have in ur emergency fund.

PAYING YOURSELF FIRST ;

you should always put urself first in every single situation including financially. so to pay urself first simply means to put ur future and needs before anything else. FOR EXAMPLE... let's say u wanna buy an ipad by the end of the year, an ipad is $345.

lets also say that u get paid weekly, so you'd divide $345 by the number of weeks in a year (52) you'd get 6.6. so you'd have to save roughly $6-$6.50 a week which isnt a lot at all. and you'd be getting what u want.

INTEREST AND CREDIT ;

interest is like a reward that the bank gives you for trusting them to look after your money. the more money you have in your account, and the longer you keep it there, the more interest you can earn…💬🎀

so the bank calculates interest as a percentage of the total amount in a bank account. so if the bank pays a 1% interest you'll earn $1 for every $100 in ur bank account over the course of a year. so if u have $500 in ur account you'll get $5. its not a lot, but interest builds on itself.

credit is the ability of the consumer to acquire goods or services prior to payment with the faith that the payment will be made in the future…💬🎀

for example missing payment deadlines can negatively affect ur credit score. why is this important? if u wanna go to college and wanna use student loans, u might not be able to if ur credit history is bad. as ur credit history grows you'll get a credit score. the higher ur score, the better ur credit is.

BUILDING CREDIT ;

get a secured card. a secured credit card is a special type of credit card with a down payment. when you open the card, you will give the credit card company a deposit to hold. it can be as little as $100. the company holds the money for you and gives you a credit card with a line of credit equal to your deposit

sign up for victoria's secret direct paper mailers. you'll get a coupon each month for 1 free panty for every purchase. when u go to the mall, get urself a panty and a sweet treat 🧁 (DO NOT PUT ANYTHING ON THE CARD THAT U CANT IMMEDIATELY PAY OFF)

and then go home and pay ur credit card bill off, and then dont use it again until the next month.

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croquettish · 1 month ago

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Why Henry pushes Hans away at first

I keep thinking about Henry pushing Hans away after he kisses him and why he might do that. After much rumination I think I might have figured it out (though anyone is welcome to chime in with their own ideas!!!).

Apologies in advance-- this got quite long, as it analyzes Henry's view of Hans' romantic behavior through both games and the DLCs (expect spoilers).

ETA: I've expounded a bit on all of this here and here as well!

Henry, better than just about anyone, knows that Hans is a massive flirt.

In Next to Godliness, Hans justifies his desire to go to the bathhouse by mentioning Klara and how pretty she is:

Upon arriving at the bathhouse, Henry learns that Hans hired a bathhouse wench and did his best to undress her via dice before failing and thus recruiting Henry into it.

Zdena tells Henry that Hans regularly goes about such behavior there, so much so that the other girls there are used to it:

We get other little nudge nudge wink winks from Hans who is very determined to show off his masculinity and just how straight he is:

At this point Klara enters the picture, and we learn due to the events that follow that she's the one woman at the bathhouse who doesn't act as a sex worker there in any capacity. Henry would most likely take notice of the fact that the one woman who doesn't let Hans have what he wants is also the one that he likes best.

He then declares that Klara deserves flowers and asks Henry to get her some. Now, if that ain't blurring the lines already...

Fast-forward to The Amorous Adventures of Sir Hans Capon when Hans declares passionate love of a woman he barely knows but who he again insists is different from other women:

He insists that secret courtship is all the rage right now in France and as a result he just has to get in on that trend. Nothing about this sounds sincere to Henry, but Hans is very insistent that no, she's the one! There's no station but the heart! So much so that he wants to gift her his great-grandmother's necklace.

When Henry delivers the necklace, Hans informs him that he already knew of this happening after the fact on account of his spies having informed him of this already.

He insists that he wants her feelings to grow naturally and that he's not planning on doing all of this too fast:

Henry is to get him a potion that'll guarantee his success because Karolina is just that worthy of his affections. He further insists that even if that potion makes every woman faint at his feet, he's only interested in one.

Things don't go entirely according to plan and quite frankly, a lot of this could be seen through the gayest lens possible, but at one point while headed to the rendezvous point, Hans asks Henry about his conquests, prompting Henry to have the option to deflect. Hans surely has had so many more conquests than he, after all!

Wow! Hans must be very invested in this!

Along the way to Karolina's house they come across another, and Hans makes this comment, which might have tipped Henry off to a certain extent (if he hadn't been already tbh) just how in love Hans really is:

So... what you're saying, Hans, is that if she was available, we'd be doing this same song and dance with her?

Huh!

Things go... uniquely over at Karolina's house with Henry feeding him lines of poetry from a bush (to varying degrees of success), and we're treated to these lovely line from Hans:

Depending on which lines Henry fed him, the quest can either end successfully or not. If it is successful, Henry checks on him again the next morning and asks him how things went. He declares:

Well! That sure sounds promising. And so magnanimous of you, Henry! He asks when Hans will see her again and is told the following:

Henry is, understandably, baffled at this.

Hans insists that he had good reason for just ditching the love of his life, namely the fact that she turned out to be illiterate:

Personally, the Hansry shipper in me absolutely thrives at this because oh, Henry is worthy of his poetry? He's giving bawdy poetry to Henry? This could not possibly gayer! (said tam from the past, who had not yet experienced just how gay KCD2 would get)

(Mind you, the poetry is fucking godawful, as we later see again in KCD2 when he actually does write poetry about Henry.)

We fast-forward again.

After their breakup in KCD2, Henry finds him again at the wedding (if not sooner), at one point having what looks like a date with a woman he has given another affectionate nickname:

And then keeps flirting with this girl right in front of Henry's salad after a bit more drama:

As soon as Henry leaves, he goes back to his date.

In other words, Henry knows Hans. He has had his number since early in the first game.

In his eyes, based on the knowledge he has, Hans is an incorrigible flirt who doesn't take love seriously whatsoever. As my gf pointed out, this vibe of "love? I never knew love till now!" [five minutes later] "love? I never knew love till—" can be VERY indicative of queerness. Of course you haven't found the right girl because you're not looking for a girl at all!

Even in his godawful poetry in the second game, Hans admits that

He's a flirt, he sleeps around a lot, he claims that any given woman is the love of his life one moment before being discarded the next...

To Henry, this could easily look like something Hans did on impulse and based only on the fear of losing Henry. Something he didn't mean. Something that could fuck up both of their lives just because of one of Hans' whims. Worse yet, what if he did it just because he was horny and wanted to let off some steam in light of all the anxiety surrounding the circumstances of that moment?

Knowing Hans, he could have kissed him for so many reasons that aren't just that he wanted to kiss Henry because he's hopelessly in love with him.

So Henry pushes him away (for his own good, most likely), walks away, and then--

Hears how genuinely distraught Hans sounds. If his Amorous Adventure with Karolina fails, he knows what Hans sounds like if he's rejected. And it's sure as shit not like this. Things like that usually just don't seem to affect him at all, rolling off him like water off a duck's back.

He expected Hans to brush this off and for him to move on more or less instantly. To scoff at Henry's rejection.

But he doesn't.

And faced with a remorseful and distraught-sounding Hans, he locks the door and turns around. Doesn't even hesitate for one second longer.

#hansry #kcd #SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG #kcd spoilers #kcd2 spoilers #hans capon #henry of skalitz

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unusualtfs · 8 months ago

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The Roommate Compatibility Program

this is my first time posting something like this to tumblr, hope it's an enjoyable read !

Arthur and Jimmy may have had the same last name, but that was the only thing they had in common.

Arthur Lee was, by all accounts, a nerd. When the Asian math major wasn’t dutifully taking notes on complex equations at his lectures or studying in silence at the library, he could usually be found holed up in his dorm, gaming until the wee hours of the morning. His only extracurricular activity to speak of was his weekly participation in the Chinese Student Union, if by “participation” one meant “sitting in the back of the room and not speaking to anyone.” His naturally pale skin was made even more so by a lack of sunlight, and his messy black hair resisted any attempt at styling. Short, shrimpy, and gay, he had clearly never seen the inside of a gym. In short, he was the exact opposite of his roommate.

Jimmy Lee was everything Arthur was not. Tall where Arthur was short, buff where Arthur was skinny, popular where Arthur was friendless. The straight white jock spent his days living out the all-American college fantasy — playing sports, pumping iron, and partying all night long. Of course, that hardly left any time for Jimmy to work toward his comms degree — but that hardly mattered, because everyone knew he was as dumb as a bag of rocks. His brutish Neanderthal features, extensive body hair, and blond buzz cut only added to that impression.

Maybe it would have been unrealistic to expect Arthur and Jimmy to be friends, but certainly no one could have anticipated the sheer antipathy that defined their roommate relationship. Arthur’s reasons for hating Jimmy were predictable — he was dumb, loud, and obnoxious; he left dirty clothes and sweaty exercise gear everywhere; and he stank up the dorm with his alpha musk. Jimmy equally couldn’t stand his prissy, prudish roommate. Arthur nagged him constantly, and he shot down all his invitations to work out or go out. Not to mention, he forbade Jimmy from getting laid while he was in the room, which was all the time. Nothing said unsexy like the presence of a judgmental Asian nerd hunched over his gaming PC at two in the morning.

Needless to say, it was not an ideal situation for anyone. So when a flier for the Roommate Compatibility Program was slipped under their door one evening, their interest was piqued.

Having issues with your roommate(s)? The Roommate Compatibility Program is here to help! Our trained experts use scientifically proven methods to ensure you and your roommate have a lifelong bond. 100% success rate, guaranteed!

In a rare moment of agreement for them, they decided they had nothing to lose.

That was how they found themselves entertaining a stranger in their dorm the next day. The man, who had introduced himself as “Mr. Thompson-Filipowski, from the RCP — but you can call me Mr. T.F. for short” had shown up out of the blue, giving them no time to prepare. So now they sat in their respective beds, answering Mr. T.F.’s questions as he appraised their living space thoughtfully. He wore a loud blue suit and had in hand a clipboard that he occasionally used to jot down notes, but otherwise he had no distinguishing features to speak of. Everything else about him, from his build to his skin tone to his hairstyle, was somehow impossible to pin down. He must have just had one of those faces.

“Thank you, boys,” he said after he was done interrogating them about their (lack of a) relationship. “I just have one more question for each of you before we can officially get started.” He turned to Jimmy first. “Jimmy, what would your ideal roommate be like?”

Jimmy had to think for quite a bit at that question. Finally, he responded in his vapid baritone: “Uh, I dunno… I guess he would just, like, be my bro.”

Mr. T.F. nodded, scribbling something on his clipboard. “Okay, excellent.” He turned to the Asian nerd next. “And Arthur, what about you?”

“My ideal roommate would be someone who’s, well, similar to me,” Arthur said, wincing at how his voice still cracked at every word. “Someone who shares my interests, and who I can spend time with, and… yeah.”

Mr. T.F. returned to his clipboard. “Right,” he said. “So, to summarize — Jimmy, you want your roommate to be your bro. And Arthur, you want your roommate to be similar to you. Is that correct?” There was a strange weight to his words, exuding the sense that something significant was carried within them, but Jimmy didn’t register this and Arthur thought it irrational, so both roommates ignored it. They nodded.

“Excellent!” Mr. T.F. said, the ominous presence now gone from his voice. “Okay, so often what we’ve found at the RCP is that roommate incompatibility is often a case of misapplied expectations. Often, our roommates do meet our expectations, you just need to keep an open mind about it. I’d wager you boys have much more in common than you think.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and Jimmy audibly scoffed at that, but they both kept listening anyway.

“For instance, looking around your dorm room, I can tell that both of you have a pretty similar fashion sense, wouldn’t you say?”

Arthur wanted to protest that all of the clothes strewn about belonged to Jimmy, not him, but the more he looked, the more he realized that wasn’t entirely true. That jersey on the floor definitely belonged to him, as did the baseball cap hanging from his bed and the sweaty white socks next to his desk. In fact, now that he thought about it, roughly half of the clothing he could see actually was his. Huh, he supposed he did dress similarly to Jimmy, then…

“I guess so,” Jimmy said as Arthur was distracted. “It’s hard to remember whose is whose sometimes because we dress the same and wear the same size, huhuh.”

As Jimmy spoke, his words became reality. He didn’t notice, but he shrunk down a few inches from his previously monstrous height until he was just under six feet — still respectable, but no longer anything more. Meanwhile, Arthur rose dramatically to meet him, until they stood at the exact same height. Since the two were equally small and shared the same taste in schlubby, sporty clothes, they essentially owned one wardrobe between them, borrowing and swapping constantly — although what looked tight and well-fitted on the muscular Ajimmy was loose and baggy on the lanky Jarthur. Curiously, the shirt Jarthur currently wore was the one item of clothing he wore that didn’t update itself to match his new reality; as such, it was now uncomfortably small on him.

Mr. T.F. continued, “And judging by the sports gear and gaming equipment in here, it looks like you also have similar interests, isn’t that right? Have you ever tried bonding over that?”

Again, it seemed Mr. T.F. was mistaken. Yes, their room indicated their respective interests in fitness and video games, but those interests were far from shared. Jarthur wanted to correct him, but then he had to reconsider. While he wasn’t into sports like Ajimmy, he certainly knew his way around them. He got as hyped as any other guy watching the Super Bowl, and he had fun whenever he was invited to play a quick game of basketball or soccer.

Meanwhile, Ajimmy was trying not to laugh at the implication that he liked video games. What did Mr. T.F. take him for, some nerd like Jarthur? But now that he thought about it… he did have fond memories of owning his bros with his mad gaming skills. He didn’t really want to call himself a gamer — he wasn’t into any of that anime or Nintendo kiddie shit. But Madden, CoD? Yeah, he fucked with those.

Imperceptibly, the dorm room shifted to match the roommates’ changing interests. Posters of popular players duplicated themselves from Ajimmy’s side of the room and pinned themselves into the wall above Jarthur’s bed. At the same time, the gaming computer vanished from Jarthur’s desk, swiftly replaced by a small TV between their beds. Well-used controllers popped into existence, one for each of them. The roommates themselves weren’t spared from the wave of changes, either. The tan leached out of Asjimm’s skin until he was quite pale, although not unhealthily so. Meanwhile, muscles made themselves known for the first time all across Joethur’s body. He was still lanky, but there was a definite sculptedness to his body that had never been there before, demonstrating his newfound appreciation of physical activity and straining his shirt even further.

“Yeah, all the time,” Joethur responded to Mr. T.F.’s questions. “I can destroy Asjimm at basketball in real life and in 2K,” he bragged.

“As if!” Asjimm retorted good-naturedly. “Next time, I’m kicking your ass, nerd!”

Joethur laughed. He may have had some problems with his roommate, but their shared competitiveness was not one of them.

“Ah, that’s lovely to hear,” Mr. T.F. said, checking a box on his clipboard. “The best way to become closer is to spend time together, after all. But that should be easy for you two — I’d imagine your class schedules are quite similar, since you’re in the same major.”

What was Mr. T.F. talking about? Joethur had never taken a comms class in his life, and Asjimm would certainly never be caught dead in a math classroom. But then Joethur went over his class schedule in his head again, and he realized that he did share most of his classes with his roommate. There was Accounting 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and Entrepreneurship every Thursday morning… In fact, aside from Joethur’s one math class and Asjimm’s lone comms class, their schedules were identical! But how could that be the case…?

“Well, I mean, yeah, I guess we do,” Asjimm said. His face twisted into a cocky smirk. “But just between you and me, it’s not like we bother to show up to class most of the time, right Joethyr?”

Everything suddenly snapped into place for Joethyr. Ausjim was right, of course — being a business major required confidence, charisma, and leadership skills more than anything else, and both Joethyr and Ausjim had that in spades. It certainly didn’t require studying or smarts, which was fortunate for Joethyr, as his brain was rapidly shrinking to match his meatheaded roommate’s. In fact, it was even smaller than Ausjim’s — he had scored highly enough in high school math that he was able to take an elective comms class for an easy A this semester, while Joethyr was being forced to struggle through calculus for a second time.

Records across campus rapidly rewrote themselves to reflect this new reality. Ausjim’s grades rose slightly, even as Joethyr’s GPA dropped from a 4.0 to a 2.0 — but whatever, C’s got degrees. In turn, the two roommates underwent their own changes. Joethyr’s unkempt hair retreated into his skull, leaving behind a slick fade. Moreover, the spark of intelligence retreated from his eyes, leaving them dark and hard. Ausjim’s hair experienced the opposite change, growing out into an impeccably groomed quiff that perfectly framed his face, neutralizing his unattractive Neanderthal features. His body hair also faded into nothingness, leaving him totally clean-shaven. The business classes he was taking had taught him the importance of presentation, after all.

“Yeah, bruh,” Joethyr agreed, now speaking in the same vacant timbre as Ausjim.

“Well, how do you boys spend your time then?” Mr. T.F. prompted. He was nearly at the bottom of his checklist — this far into the process, he didn’t even need to guide the roommates’ transformation. Their new personalities had largely subsumed who they used to be, and would be happy to fill the remaining gaps by themselves.

“Isn’t it obvious, bruh?” Ausjim said. “The gym — duh! Gotta get those gains!”

At his roommate’s proclamation, Joethy underwent a startling change. At last, his muscles ballooned all across his body until they were identical in size to Ausjim’s. No longer did he have to settle for merely toned — he was well and truly ripped. So dramatic was the change that his shirt was instantly torn apart, revealing his glorious pecs and washboard abs for the world to see. The Asian hunk subconsciously flexed as he thought about his answer to Mr. T.F.’s question, realizing something funny in the process.

“Hell, we probably even spend more time at the Chinese Student Union than class, right bruh?” Joethy nudged his equally jockish roommate.

The word “Chinese” resonated in Ausjin’s mind as he experienced sudden changes of his own. His lush hair was quickly thickening and inexorably staining itself midnight black. And as for the rest of his body, his lack of hair down there became much easier to maintain, as he naturally had less of it. Meanwhile, his facial features were shifting all at once — brow softening, nose broadening, eyes narrowing, lips plumpening. Eventually, they settled on what the rest of his body had already become — a carbon copy of his roommate.

“Yeah, bro, totally…”

At the word “bro,” the roommates’ final changes began. The physical refinements were over, but there was still work to do mentally. Ausjin’s brain was purged of the faces of his former family, their white features morphing into far more familiar Asian ones. Fond memories shifted as his mother’s famous meatloaf became her authentic dumpling recipe, and the destination of his childhood summer vacations was corrected from Europe to China. Through it all, he remained the dumb, popular jock he had always been. That was also true of Joethy, who could no longer remember being a lame, skinny nerd. Nights spent studying were replaced with nights spent partying, and members of an extensive social circle easily entered the parts of his brain that had never experienced true friendship. His memories of his family remained the same, however — with one key addition. The newcomer’s face was blurry, but the more that he focused on it, the more familiar it seemed. Almost like… his own face…? Or was it Ausjin’s face? That seemed closer, but…

By Joethy’s side, Ausjin found his memories haunted by an identical face. The two jocks sat there in dumbfounded silence, both trying to recall who it was that featured so prominently in their memories. What was his name? Not Joethy or Ausjin, but rather… rather…

“Joey! Austin!”

Joey and Austin Lee snapped back to attention, refocusing on their strange guest.

Mr. T.F. chuckled, putting his clipboard away. “You boys zoned out there for a sec! It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair soon. I just have one last question for you — are you getting along as roommates?”

“Well, of course we’re getting along, bruh!” Austin exclaimed.

“We’re basically the same person already!” Joey finished his twin’s sentence with a pure, dull guffaw.

Because it was true. Joey and Austin Lee were clearly cut from the same cloth: The identical twin Asian jocks were both brainless, buff, bisexual business-major bros. The only appreciable difference between the twins was their hairstyles. Austin fancied himself a pretty boy, spending hours by the mirror meticulously maintaining his gelled hair. Joey, meanwhile, rocked a utilitarian crew cut, confident enough to put his angelic face on full display. But other than that, they were totally inseparable — everything they did, from working out to gaming to partying, they did together. (Rumor had it that they even fucked together, only bringing a lucky girl or guy home when he or she was willing to share.)

“Great to hear that! Thanks for participating in our Roommate Compatibility Survey, you two — although I don’t know what results we were expecting from twins like you… Anyway, have a great one!” As Mr. T.F. exited the room, he allowed himself one last glance back at the Lee twins as they mindlessly bantered. Both of them had certainly gotten their wishes. Joey was exactly like Austin, and Austin was exactly like Joey, and they were certainly each other’s bros — in both senses of the word. Another success for the Roommate Compatibility Program.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Mr. T.F., the Lee twins promptly forgot he had ever existed, returning to their existences as paragons of young Asian American masculinity.

“So, what’s the plan for today, bro?” Austin said. “Hit the gym, then hit the streets?”

Joey smirked, admiring himself and his twin in the mirror. “You know me so well, bro!”

#male transformation #male tf #racial change #race change #personality change #mental transformation #jock tf #twinning tf #broification #jockification #dumber tf #gay to bi #straight to bi

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binhourly · 1 month ago

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Coming To Terms (+18)

Summary: What could go wrong when your love life involves bad sex, good imagination, and a best friend who seems like the answer to all your unspoken desires?

Word count: 11k

Tags: College Setting / Rom-Com / Slice of Life / Friends to Undecided

Pairing: Baseball Player!Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader

Trigger Warning: Emotional Distress / Harassment / Stalking / Physical Intimidation (Seungmin is captain of the baseball team, his bat is practically his weapon) / Explicit Content / Men Being Pathetic / Aggressive & Threatening Behaviour / Vanilla Intercourse In The Beginning & Middle / Protective Sex / Crude Language / Character Re-imagined / Underwear Play / Verbal Aggression

Songs: i. Look At That Woman by ROLE MODEL ii. Love Is Embarrassing by Olivia Rodrigo

ALSO READ HERE

NOTE: Shoutout to the jerk who inspired one part of this scene—who wouldn’t leave me alone after he rejected me, got angry because I was unaffected by it, and alluded that if I cared about him enough, I would be heartbroken. Then he proceeded to trap me inside the girls’ bathroom. Hope campus security tasers you next time, you fucking weirdo. / excuse the ending. I was sadly a victim of school work overload and anything I wrote fell flat and I can't be bothered trying to re-work it the 100th time. so, yes it doesn't make a whole lot of sense and seems really rushed . . . live laugh love seungmin.

NO ONE was completely perfect—hell, if there was one thing you were sure about, it was that your own crappy life meant you also counted toward that same damn list too.

It wasn't about being uncritical, either. You had a lot to be angry at, starting with your new project partner, Felix, who insists he's clinically diagnosed with a gaming addiction, so it's crucial he takes 'Call of Duty' breaks in between studying.

It just came down to being hopeful, and having a lot of it.

For instance, if someone had waved a bunch of red flags in your direction, you'd notice it, maybe indulge in a small wiggle of your fingers back, because for some stupid reason, you have a bad habit of thinking their flaws, (controlling, inability to take accountability, lack of empathy) would magically iron themselves out over time. Or, your personal favourite—they'd burn the cloth enough it changes the alarming colour.

Spoiler alert: they never do. And now you're stuck with your mistake literally punching you in the gut—but more literal than metaphorical.

“Making you feel so good,” your boyfriend slurs into your shoulder, his awkward thrusting between your legs making the sentence appear as if he's hiccuping. “Changing—argh—your life.”

Dongmin was that small wish you sigh out at the end of a grace, something you know you're not supposed to say but get overwhelmed with the selfish need to want more. When he showed up, it was almost like the universe had heard you and decided, without any strings attached, “You know what? Sure, here's your dream guy.”

And god, was he absolutely perfect—and clearly your karmic invoice.

The first few weeks, he practically won your heart over by carefully remembering tiny details about your interests and insisted on carrying you on his back to ease the digging pain in your shin after your first date. (Looking back now, you can admittedly say you brought down your impenetrable wall too quickly, because the only way he changed the trajectory of your life was finding out he had the bedroom finesse of a teenage boy who giggled at genital diagrams in health class.)

Then the lights flick off, and he transforms into something clumsy but not inexperienced... just one-sided.

You've tried everything to loosen him up—lingerie, role-play, and toys—but at this point, sex to Dongmin was sticking it in, swirling it around a few times trying to chase his own high, and you're stuck watching a firework fizzle out just as the show's supposed to start. You know, a little “oh” that quickly becomes a “wait, that's it?”

He lifts himself up off you, a sheen of sweat clearly building down his chest after what has been barely two minutes. It gives you a better view of Dongmin, though, and you think to yourself you could work with this. Watching him rest his hands firmly on your raised knees and press them further apart to spear deeply into you would definitely build up that sweet pressure.

And sure enough, whines sob out of you so desperately, like a starved woman thankful for a grain of salt. “Baby, f—feels so good.” Your face flops to the side, mouth agape and drying the drool that slides down your chin. "Right there—ah uh!—keep it like that," you instruct him, hoping for what could possibly be your first orgasm.

This was it, his redemption arc; all it needed now was a friendly push. So, your fingers tickle past your bouncing breasts, landing at the base of your clit where you planned to rub circles while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Don't do that,” Dongmin objects through a grunt, swatting your hands away despite your quiet gasp of disappointment, entrapping them both above your head. He leans forward, stopping his thrusts. “I can make you cum with just my cock.”

Sadly, that hasn't happened yet, and it was hard to be hopeful when you knew exactly how it was going to end. He resumes, and just like you expected, Dongmin repositions himself, and the tight lull around your pelvis disappears, literally fucking retreats back into a little cobwebbed corner.

With him snuggled back into your shoulders, it allows you to catch sight of the ceiling, dissociating into several different thoughts. One that whispered loud asked if this was your punishment. Six months he made you wait. Six months of feeling like a princess before he finally gave in, and by then, you were so locked in emotionally that there was no way out. You liked him—loved him, even.

Damn.

“So close! Gonna... uh ah—cum." Dongmin grips your hips hard enough it leaves an unwanted ache, and before you could mouth out profanities for getting carried away, a hot feeling stews inside you along with a huff of air that sounds like he's struggling to breathe.

He came, how shocking.

He doesn't collapse next to you, just opts to awkwardly move over at the edge of the bed before treading to the rubbish bin in the corner, ripping the condom off his softening penis. It leaves you naked, swaddled in sheets, just quietly taking in that his day had now just become more bearable, while you'll spend the next week coming up with excuses to keep him away from any spacious surface to fuck against.

Dongmin climbs back by your side, his presence now not so pressuring. “You were so good, baby.” He trails his hands up your arm, making a shiver slither down your bare spine. “How was it? Was it any good?”he adds, his voice soft and hopeful.

For a brief moment, you consider telling him the truth—that he could touch up on a few areas to get better in bed. But even thinking about it made you shrink, like you were holding a fuse you lit yourself, waiting for the wick to burn the last inch before selfishly handing it over to Dongmin.

But, like always, at the last second when your people pleasing tendencies kick in, you throw all your weight to soften the explosion.

“It was perfect,” you whisper, the lie slipping out smoothly. His hands squeeze your thigh in response, a splitting grin spreading across his face.

“Really?” His eyes light up, pressing kisses into your cheek.

If life has taught you anything, it's that perfection is a myth. You knew that before Dongmin, and you sure as hell know it now. Sure, Dongmin was bad in bed, but who’s to say there wasn’t something about you that bothered him just as much? Maybe he loved you enough to let it slide. Maybe you were willing to do the same. And maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t about love at all, but about not knowing if you’d ever find something better.

“Yeah! You were amazing,” you lie again, and this time, it comes a little easier.

Spoiler alert, your mind whispers.

SEUNGMIN misses the next pitch, the ball ricocheting off the chain-link fence surrounding the batting cage with a hollow clang. "Wait—hold on." He turns toward you sitting cross-legged outside, eyes narrowing in focus at something other than his baseball training. "I'm sorry, did I just hear you complain about your boyfriend's... swing?"

You couldn't even remember when you let that secret slip.

One second, you were watching Seungmin wind up his bat over his shoulder for another hit, the end-of-the-day heat tinting his white ace uniform a baked yellow, and the next, words were tumbling out like you were in some kind of truth-telling trance. Shit.

Trying to act as nonchalant as possible, you shrug your shoulders. "I'm being serious."

Seungmin rests the length of his bat across his shoulders, arms slung causally over each end, trying his best to look moderately stern—or at least like he's mulling it over and coming up with helpful solutions. "What makes you think I'm not?" he says, raising his eyebrows in mock confusion.

But you weren't fooled for a second. You'd known the athlete for a total of three years, which gave you enough time to spot the signs—the barely-there twitch at the corner of his mouth, the bite down on his bottom lip.

"Relax..." Seungmin drags out his words, adding to his infamous bratty attitude with a classic eye roll that basically says you really should know better. "I'm not that evil to make fun of you for something that's—y'know... beyond your control. If I'm going to shit on someone, it'd be him for underperforming."

"But I don't think I want you throwing jabs at him," you start by saying, holding off from speaking further until Seungmin repositions himself away from you on the plate, giving you the perfect sight of his messy brown tuffs sticking out from under his cap rather than his judgy eyes, as he takes another practice swing. "It's wrong when he's been nothing but sweet to me."

Then came the ball shooting out the machine, a sharp clang, and instead of his usual clean hit, the ball bounces off his bat at a crooked angle, spiralling down into what could've been foul territory if this was a real game.

Seungmin spins back towards you, a clear sign of disbelief in his eyes at his second out ball. "See? This is what happens when you say stupid shit," he mutters, adjusting his cap backwards to give you the full extent of his annoyance. "It's like you're sucking all my talent away, one word at a time." He raises his bat, taking a few loose swings in the air as if to shake off your bad luck.

“Am I not allowed to defend my boyfriend?" you reply, an ache of defensiveness prickling your chest.

Seungmin lets out a low laugh, the kind that’s meant to sweetly correct your faults without fully crossing the line into being a downright douche—and maybe the way his teeth peek halfway underneath his pink lips could make you forget it was supposed to hurt. Or that it only came after you announced Dongmin was, in fact, your boyfriend.

“You can," he says, his tone a sharp lash despite its simplicity. Now that you think of it, Seungmin does seem more affected by your troubles than you expected. "But maybe save it for when he's worth defending. Like, when you can move past telling people he makes you happy just because he makes you laugh."

What the hell did Seungmin know about relationships? If this were any other Friday night—where the summer heat feels thicker from the countless bodies pressed up against each other and the cold beer does nothing but flush everyone's faces, the only contribution to a committed relationship Seungmin could get behind was being with a girl long enough until the song blaring out from the speaker ended. And then? Onto the next, all blurring together, sifting through the entire alphabet as the night dragged on.

Was she a Bora? Maybe a Susan? Not that it mattered. It always played out the same—Seungmin weaving through the crowd, a little disheveled, a little fucked-out, his familiar scent of citrus clinging to his skin like an afterthought. And then your heart tucks, knots, flips, only for you to turn around and realise—no, he’s not looking at you. Just another random girl brushing past drowning in his cologne.

So yeah, maybe Seungmin had a point. But what weight did his opinion really hold when it’s coming from someone who valued blowjobs over real, tangible connections.

You press your hands behind you, leaning back slightly with a pouty lip, confused about what you were really frustrated about. "Not everything has to meet your weird, unrealistic expectations with your perfect checklist."

Seungmin scoffs, “No, but it’s the one thing you’re spiralling over right now.”

You sit up abruptly, mouth open, ready to argue—because obviously, he’s wrong—but nothing comes out. Because, unfortunately, he isn’t.

Seungmin smirks, like he was waiting for you to get caught in your own logic. “Oh? No defence? That’s new.”

You scowl, picking your legs up before hugging your knees to your chest. “I just—” You huff, looking away. “You don’t know everything, okay?”

“I don’t need to know everything. I know you.” He points the bat at you like it’s an extendable pointer in some lecture you definitely didn’t sign up for. “And I never said anything about being perfect. But he’s not exactly giving you something that sticks. Y’know, the stuff you can’t let go of.”

Your brows pinch together. “That makes no sense. People let go of bad things all the time.”

Seungmin snorts. “Right. But people still go back to their exes just to fight, or hate-fuck each other into oblivion. Not because it’s good for them—because it’s unforgettable. It gets under your skin and stays there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the weight of his words. He steps back onto the plate, kicking his cleats into the ground, clearing out the backed-up dirt trapped inside the rubber.

“Dongmin has it all backwards,” he continues, more thoughtful now. “He gave you perfect first. No mess, no complications.’” He tilts his head. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

Your lips press together. “It is a good thing,” you insist, but even you hear how defensive it sounds.

Seungmin scoffs, unamused. “No, it’s suffocating.” He flicks his gaze back to you. “Or in your case, it’s got you sitting here, trying to convince yourself you’re the problem. Like you should be grateful to be with him.”

Your stomach twists—because, again, damn it, he’s not wrong.

"You sound pretty sure about that," you say, almost smiling but finding yourself hesitating. "Where's the perfectly formatted, alphabetical citation to all these theories, huh?"

Without missing a beat, Seungmin turns to you, his eyes—typically the blackest jade—now transforming into the softest chestnut under the sun, properly toasted to taste so sweet and earthy. "I am the citation. A living, breathing, walking HTTPS link."

You don't disagree; it's not like you can with his never-ending scroll of experiences. Of course, he knew more than you—the baseball player practically had every single girl on campus twirling their hair, waiting for the chance he might pick them again (the same crowd you were once among, quietly shoved in a corner—before you met Dongmin)

While Seungmin prepares for the next hit, you take a minute to fully come to terms with what's been said. Dongmin did give you everything, and you were more than grateful for that, but did he do anything that really snagged at your mind constantly? Sure, he occasionally bought you things or always let you eat the last bit of every delicious sweet because he was kind, thoughtful, and never gave you a reason to doubt him—but that was just it.

Sometimes, there'd be moments where you'd get so caught up in studying you'd forget to call or text him for days at a time, and it didn't bother you. When a girl was clearly flirting with him at the library—right there, barely a shoulder away from you—it didn't make you feel a thing—not jealousy, not irritation, not even the faintest twinge that the world could shift off its axis if he did ratify her advances.

All you could explain is the way the morsel memories managed to only piece together when you remember Seungmin happened to be there at that time, slithering right down into the seat beside her in his beige trousers and white dress shirt (his knight in shining armour away from his usual baseball uniform), hair clipped short and skimming the top of his forehead, stealing her attention away from Dongmin. And it worked, aggravatingly enough.

The girl completely forgot about your boyfriend. And you... well, you couldn't remember much else because you were too prickly from anger to realise the crack of a notebook slamming shut, echoing throughout the library, was from your own. Heads all turned. Yours stayed on the way her fingers had drummed on the empty space of his forearm where he rolled up a fourth of his sleeve, needing nothing but to leave before you flat out collapsed.

Later that night, Dongmin kissed your lips swollen, breathlessly mouthing how much he loved seeing you jealous over him. And if he believed it, you let yourself believe it too, because of course that's why you were so sensitive.

You move closer to the fence, letting your fingers curl around the wires. "Okay, what's your controversial hot take on this? What would you want me to do?"

Quickly, Seungmin replies—"You dump him. Obviously."

You reel back. "Have you not been listening to me this past hour?"

"I have. That's me taking everything in as your very supportive friend and giving you the most logical advice," he says with a deadpan expression.

Crossing your arms, you stare at the side of him, letting it trail down to his uniform tucked into his white trousers. "I don't like that one."

Seungmin adjusts his grip on the bat, keeping his eyes trained on the ball machine, waiting for the next surprise. "Okay... because you're basically teetering on the edge of sexual insanity, you can have my next thought free of charge."

You arch an eyebrow, hating the way he pauses for dramatic effect.

Seungmin bends his knees further apart, his voice dropping just enough you can feel it pulsating in-between your legs.

"Next time, think of me during sex."

You choke on absolutely nothing.

What the actual fuck? You weren't too sure you heard him correctly, and it explained through the way you racked your eyes to the side inconspicuously to see if anyone else had overheard and displayed an equally horrified look to his statement, just a smidge of utter disbelief. But you were the only one short-winded, a little hypnotised.

"That's... That's really gross—and seriously, just—weird, and wrong... you can't be—"

If he wasn't so focused, Seungmin would've done his infamous shrugs, completely unbothered as usual. "Just saying, I've got a 99% success rate of giving people what they want."

You barely have room to retaliate before the machine fires, the sound of his bat whooshing into your ear and a crack echoing across the field instantly playing out. Unlike the last two, the ball soars higher—farther—and as you follow the little white comet in the air, it hits the end trails of the field which felt weirdly coincidental to Seungmin's statement, because if this was like any other game where the fence wasn't placed around the playing ground, with an arena filled with students, the ball would have been called out as a—

“Home run,” someone mutters from another section, greatly impressed at his swing.

THE NEXT time you have sex with Dongmin is right after your last class on a late afternoon.

It wasn't spontaneous nor romantic, but you figure that being with someone for as long as you have it's already given proof that he loves you, which cancels out the need for heart-shaped petals on the bed and replaces grand gestures with stale, pre-planned texts.

Dongmin: Need you right now, baby

Dongmin: Think you can make it in 10?

Your eyes flick quickly between the two messages, your nose scrunching the lines of your face, which suggested your clear irritation at his wish. But as natural as it came, so did that same nauseating feeling that you were being too judgmental—a little too mean when he hadn't done anything even mildly wrong for you to turn him down.

You: If I run I could probably get there in 6

You: But I won't do it without a little please ;)

Shoving your phone into your back pocket without checking his response, you start walking to the student dormitories, appreciating that, even though the bigger problem is only minutes ahead, it still leads you under the campus's brick arch into the sprawling oval field where students lounge on the grass during their breaks. It gives you a moment of false peace—that maybe, just maybe, you're like everyone else, heading out to do anything but have mediocre sex.

When you slip inside his room, it only takes a quick peck on the lips to kick-start his libido. You'd barely leaned back before he nudged closer, his hands racing to your face before smothering you in a deeper, hungrier kiss.

It completely took you by surprise how feverish he was being. It was impossible to think straight when his tongue was basically poking every corner of your mouth, while his hands were sneaking under your shirt, ignoring the sweat build-up on your back from your little walk.

Dongmin had just sat through a three-hour lecture about marketing strategies—did product placements make him this horny?

You giggle into his mouth at the ridiculous thought, and it's like someone shoved a drain stopper into Dongmin's rushing sink of hormones.

He pulls back, frowning slightly, eyes wandering in a way that showed he was clearly offended that you weren't taking his sexually aroused state seriously enough. "What's funny?"

Your face heats. "Nothing! I'm just—" you hesitate, bringing his face closer, peppering the trace of his lips with quick kisses to coax him out of thinking too deeply. "I'm just being silly."

It works in your favour because Dongmin gets caught up in the web of your so-called addicting taste, his arousal taking over without a second thought. His hips fall into this automatic rhythm, rutting into the open space between your legs like it's instinctive—like he doesn't even realise he's doing it.

You sigh into his mouth, deciding to enjoy the little bits and pieces of pleasure you can grab before things inevitably go south. If you were going to make this work, foreplay would have to be your life line. Because the biggest misconception about sex is that it's rarely as groundbreaking as foreplay. What most girls really want is the build-up. The kissing, the grinding, the maddening tease of never quite getting there.

It's the burn without the release.

"But I want to know," he insists with an incredulous look, head angling away, leaving a huff of an aggravated moan in the air from you.

You bite your lip, stalling, before blurting, "I'm just trying to figure out what got you so..." Your words trail off as your hands flap in the useless space between the two of you, miming something you can't quite put into words. "Like... this."

Dongmin lets go of you, the feeling from earlier while briskly walking around campus—free—climbing back into your chest. Without a word, he moves to the bed, slumping down with his legs parted just enough to make the tent in his pants... obvious, arms bracing behind him on the mattress.

"It's Seungmin," he says finally, voice low and dejected, like the mental image of the baseball player pained him.

You blink. Seungmin? Your Seungmin?

The statement hits you like a curveball to the face, the hard-stitched leather completely derailing whatever thoughts were left swirling around in your pretty but concerned brain. The confession was so unprompted that it left the words tumbling out of your mouth without proper discretion.

"Seungmin made you hot and bothered?"

"What? No!" he blurts, eyes widening in complete horror. "That's not—how did you even come to that conclusion?"

"I don't know!" you rush in, pointing an accusatory finger towards Dongmin. "We were just swapping spit, and I asked you a question—I mean, you can't really get the wrong idea when you build it up like that."

You hadn't intended to be funny, but the response made the hard marks in Dongmin's features soften enough before he lets out an involuntary exhale that borders on an amused laugh.

Still, something lingered. The sight of Dongmin, typically so composed, with an endless amount of patience in his tool belt, sitting there so visibly nerved and upset felt... different. The open window that haloed a buttery tint above his head couldn't pin back that same warmth.

You pad across the room, steps deliberately slow, allowing yourself to stop between his parted thighs. This was a new experience. Within the time frame of your relationship—which would be exactly a year, a month from now—you'd never really had to deal with this. And that's not to say you were unwilling to help swat away the eventual clouds raining above his head, it was just that after spending so many perfect days, having something other than that unsettled you, like seeing a flower wilt at its peak in the middle of spring.

And maybe that's why you didn't ask him what was wrong. You weren't sure how. Instead, staring down at him, you nudge your knee into his open ones. Once. Then again. A little harder each time, until his lips twitch slightly, smearing back that familiar smile.

"You're annoying." Dongmin clasps his hands around the back of your knees, murmuring softly, and it's supposed to reach deep—the feeling of his touch—but it barely tingles.

"And you're a little grumpy," you shoot back, nudging him again for good measure, and before you can process it, Dongmin uses the leverage of having his hands at your weak point to his advantage, and in one fluid motion, he lifts you up slightly despite being in a sitting position and pulls you down onto the mattress with him, a familiar weight pressing above you.

This would've been the perfect moment to capture inside a cute mason jar and hold up as a reminder each time you got that nagging poke in your gut that doubted if you had any real connection with your boyfriend. But despite the compromising position, the only thing disrupting your thoughts was how you could bring the conversation back to Seungmin without indirectly implying anything.

"What does Seungmin have that I don't?" you say playfully, intending for his reply to be as predictable as the baseball player not having a set of perky tits—the typical train of thought for boys in their early twenties.

"He has you."

There's a beat of silence. "What?"

To keep the mood moderately light-hearted, Dongmin blows hot air onto your face, the rush gently moving a strand of hair away from your eyes. "I bumped into him earlier today," he answers finally, voice dazed, keeping his stare trained on the roundness of your lips as if they're the most fascinating thing in the room. "It was weird because he usually avoids me, but he wanted to talk to me about something."

You nod your head in a vague attempt to look attentive, but your mind escapes this current reality and transports itself back two days ago at the baseball field, where Seungmin looked aggravated by the combination of the sun and the coach's reliance on his skills, and you happened to carve the first smile into his lips after telling him how Dongmin has failed to make you cum.

It wasn't like Seungmin would've told Dongmin. He was many concerning things, but the most valuable quality he had was the tendency to lock your most humiliating confessions behind an impenetrable vault. But that didn't mean his unprompted hangout with your boyfriend was sheer coincidence. It was a built idea, one that probably came to him in the morning and continued to amuse him for hours before he spoke to Dongmin. You can picture it so clearly—every little comment Seungmin would've made laced with his trademark brand of backhanded politeness, each one just toeing the line between friendly banter and deliberate belittling—enough for him to fully relieve himself of his quiet hatred for your boyfriend.

"There's a fundraiser his team needed help promoting to get sponsors, and apparently I have just the right qualifications for it," Dongmin explains, the request shockingly normal.

"And that should explain this?" You blink up at him, his weight growing more suffocating the longer it's pressed into you.

Dongmin chuckles lightly, his fingers lazily coiling a strand of your hair as he speaks. "Yeah—well... the conversation somehow, kinda drifted... towards you."

There it was. The sudden rush of tingles sweeping through your body, sitting uncomfortably hot on your cheeks at being mentioned when you weren't present, wondering what Seungmin had possibly said. And why you grew more lightheaded at the sound of each syllable in Seungmin's name being spoken in your thoughts. No, it's definitely not from that.

"How come you never told me you spent last Christmas holidays with his family?" Dongmin's voice cuts through. From the way it squeezes past his lips, it tells you more than enough that the question was only a placeholder for something else he was worried about.

You fidget slightly under his gaze, your fingers playing with the silver pendant dangling from his necklace. "Because... I didn't think it was important. We weren't together then, and Seungmin and I were already good friends. It wasn't unusual for us to do things like that with our families."

The furrow of your brow appears at seeing the bare distaste on his face at hearing about your friendship with the baseball player. "Hey... if I could go back in time, I totally would've said no. Like, 'Sorry, I can't come. Why? Well, it's because the gravitational pull of my future boyfriend's aura is too strong and he wouldn't want me there.'"

Dongmin was never possessive. He was more the type to find pleasure in flaunting you rather than keeping you hidden, so hearing the comical inflection around the scenario made him feel sheepish enough to drop down and smush his face into your neck.

"That's not what I meant," he mumbles, his lips brushing against your skin. It takes a moment for him to string together what really made him upset—or rather horny. "Just with the way he talks about you... it's different. Like he's known you forever, and will forever know you better than I do." Dongmin huffs, the pout in his voice strong. "I can't compete with that. All the stuff we do now—getting coffee together, staying up late to help you study—it doesn't feel like it's enough in comparison. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm supposed to be your boyfriend, but wherever Seungmin is, I'm... falling short somehow."

That's why he was bothered. The stories made Dongmin jealous, which led him to do the only thing that could reassure him that Seungmin couldn't follow—sex.

"Why would you think that?" you ask, voice gentle but angry. "That's far from the truth, or—or the reality, even." Holding onto his head, you pull Dongmin up enough to look at you. "Have I known Seungmin a lot longer? Sure. But I've never thought of him that way. If anything, me choosing you should already tell you who I wanted."

Dongmin smiles faintly, the soft, content look on his face a dizzying comparison to his sharp canines. He believes you like he always does. But that's the problem, isn't it? With everything you've said behind his back, the lie should be apparent. Because within your boyfriend's insecurities, there's a truth to it—not consciously at least, just in the way there's always been a stupid crack that opens wider every time Seungmin is mentioned, and you've done nothing but ignore the water at your feet.

Yet he stares at you with so much unguarded affection, it twists your stomach into a knot that will never unravel.

"I love you," he says then.

Overwhelmed by the sudden confession, you pull him in, pressing your mouth to his in a kiss so desperate it puts his previous hormones to shame.

It's not like you weren't expecting this—how could you not? You'd spent the last few months rehearsing those same three words in your head, tonguing around each letter to get rid of the uncomfortable taste it came with. And maybe he was ready for that, but you weren't. So, this was the best you could do for now without giving him something flimsy, and like so many other times, you squeeze your eyes tight, trying to find that trapdoor in your mind and disappear down it, to a wonderful place where all the memories of Dongmin should fill in.

Seungmin. Your thoughts whisper.

The next few minutes, there's a hurried struggle to remove all of your clothes, and by the time your underwear rolls up in a ball beside his bed, Dongmin is already inside you, huffing pleasurable moans into your gaped mouth each time he feels you clamp around his cock.

"God! Keep doing that," he urges you.

You had no control over why you kept tensing around him—whether it's your body's intrinsic search for something more. And you don't figure it out until your mind slips again before you can stop it, and, like a metal detector, the thought of Seungmin's name is the sand-crusted jewellery, and you clamp down once more.

No, it's not about Seungmin. You're sure of it. Absolutely, hundred fucking percent.

Dongmin presses closer, his pace less magnifying and more like he couldn't commit to finishing a thrust. "You're so perfect," he whispers into your shoulder, but the words barely ignite anything.

Perfect.

That word was the bane of your existence. All you did your whole life was believe that every relationship dripped down to one single thing—perfection. But maybe Seungmin was right. Perfect didn't leave room to grow. Perfect didn't let you argue over the dumb things, laugh too loudly, or cry over the important ones. Perfect didn't let you mess up and make it better. Perfect was a plain room, and Dongmin had locked you inside it, too afraid to decorate.

Imperfection meant freedom, and you felt it in every harsh word Seungmin ever threw your way, in every argument that left you winded, in every moment you ached for him to pull you back. That heart-wrenching need to keep him close, to hear the rawness in his voice when he asked for your forgiveness.

Seungmin.

You shut your eyes, wrestling back your brain tooth and nail to focus on the moment—on Dongmin rutting into your core with a determination to leave a clear indent of his cock inside you, on his hands on your hips, his soft grunts—

Seungmin.

Again, his name skids into your head like a car caught spinning in the rain. But it's too late to banish the thought, because your mind has already conjured up the image of Seungmin at the batting cage—cap backwards, sleeves rolled up, arms flexing each time he swings his bat, with the lethal combination of his slit eyebrow and that cocky little smirk lingering after every comment.

You whine out loud, your body betraying you as it holds onto the memory of what Seungmin said, but to make it seem like you're putting in the extra effort to not commit mental infidelity, the "Next time, think of me during sex" line sounds a lot like an impression of Dobby the elf.

And, dear God, that doesn't even work,

"Oh—oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck!" you gasp out, your voice higher in pitch than you'd like. The familiar feeling of a tight pressure builds low in your belly, but it doesn't ebb away like it normally does, and your whole body continues to roll in heat, before your back arches sharply, and the sudden crash of pleasure is unexpected but so deliciously good.

Dongmin finishes soon after, and whilst you both sit in complete silence on the mattress, bathing in your post-orgasm sweat, you shortly come to terms with two new predicaments in your life.

One, being that you actually came thinking about Kim Seungmin.

Two, being that you actually fucking liked it.

THE SUN was barely in the sky when Seungmin—who seemed to have been taught to express all of his frustration outwards—ordered the entire baseball team to run a hundred miserable laps around the campus field to make whatever was floating around his mind less pressing. They all fell behind one another but in disorientating lines, the soles of their cleats cutting into the damp morning grass.

On a normal day, Felix would've been out there too (doing his usual half-assed attempts at the warmups). Instead, he was currently lounging inside the dugout, relaxing his legs but firing his thumbs as they rapidly tapped on his phone screen.

No one—absolutely no one—was getting any sympathy out of Felix today.

"Eat a dick! Actually, eat two motherfucking girthy ass dicks and choke on it!" Felix curses with the volume of a grandparent on a phone call—just loud enough to reach beyond the glow of his fluorescent screen. In the blonde boy's defence, playing Call Of Duty was just as exhausting when you get teamed up with shitty shooters.

Seungmin, who had been monitoring the boys near the dugout, turns back to stare past his shoulder, arms still crossed in front of him with an intense scowl, as if to silently explain to Felix that whatever had pissed on his mood originally, he had managed to lift his leg and make it worse. "Remind me again why you can't practise today?"

"I actually woke up with a deadly cough," Felix responds, voice thick with offence and a badly constructed lie. "If you don't believe me, you can call up coach during his meeting and he'll tell you how it sounded pretty contagious. Enough to keep me benched until next week."

A muscle ticked in Seungmin's jaw. "Then why are you sitting here? Go be sick in your own bed."

"Can't," Felix says, a needle deep in his voice, as if the explanation to whatever he was doing should've already been threaded together by now. "If I go back now, I won't be able to use 'practice' as an excuse to get out of finishing the group assignment I've got with (Y/N). If I'm here? I'm sick but committed."

Even from where the blonde boy was sitting, he still caught onto the way Seungmin's mood turned into something closer to irritation, the kind that felt a little too personal. Now, Felix had seen Seungmin mad plenty of times (he had that one incident to refer to—when their actual pitcher, Jisung, threw out his arm right before a match and Felix had been shoved onto the mound as the last-minute replacement. And, well, as everyone could've guessed from someone with only shortstop experience, every ball he fired went sailing high and dangerously close to the batters' faces. After about the third near-decapitation, the umpire didn't buy the "bad aim" excuse anymore and disqualified their team for allegedly trying to take out the competition), but this was different, like he had forgotten Felix was naturally carefree because it seemed to involve a certain someone.

Oh. Now that's interesting.

"Did you ever pause and think she's basically running herself into the ground because you can't bother to lift a finger?" Seungmin presses further, his typical mask of pretending everything you did hadn't affected him one way or another slipping.

"Woah, I figured this reaction would've come out of Dongmin sooner or later." Felix grins, knowing better than to speak the devil's name within the circumference of Seungmin. Why? Well, nobody knew. Dongmin had been what most people called plain, from the way he looked down to his major. But there was a reason why the ace player always tightened his fist, ready to swing first at the mention of that name. And maybe Felix had his own suspicions.

Stepping back into the open field, Seungmin speaks quietly, but a dangerous sort that gives his words a bite. "Him? That asswipe is just another growing problem for her to deal with on top of everything else."

With a dismissive eye roll, Felix starts another round, the very obnoxious sounds of murder coming out of his phone not as loud as the barking orders Seungmin dishes out.

Whatever. The blonde boy was a nutrition science major, not a goddamn psychologist to pinpoint his issues. Actually, he did know, and thought that sleeping with every moving organism on campus because you can't have the one person you wanted was beyond stupid, but Felix had no intention of caring.

Suddenly, the shrilling vibration of a phone is felt underneath his thigh. "Someone's phone's ringing!" Felix announces, shifting slightly because, somehow, the rectangular object had ended up in the most uncomfortable spot, all while simultaneously concentrating on his game.

"Who is it?" Seungmin yells out, squinting his eyes at Felix.

"How would I know? I'm kinda in the middle of beating my highest kill score here," the blonde boy fires back, his tone making it sound like he's the one being inconvenienced.

There's a mere second of peace before the phone buzzes again, shooting tingles down Felix's leg.

"They're still calling, and it's vibrating against my ass," he grumbles. "Dude, if I move, it might buzz right into my rectum."

Shifting in the opposite direction to get the phone to slide out from underneath him, he manages to dislodge it just enough to catch the end pieces of the caller ID.

"Wait, hang on. The vibrations are spaced out. I think they're texting."

Exasperated, Seungmin responds, "Felix, I swear—"

"Oh, shit." From the awkward angle he twisted himself into, where he managed to support himself on the bench with only one butt-cheek, Felix finally reads out the mysterious caller, his interest piquing now that he knew whose phone was suffocating under him this whole time. "It's from (Y/N). Actually, scratch that—it's from (Y/N) with a red heart emoji."

That finally gets Seungmin's attention, immediately stopping his coaching. "What does she want?"

Something tells Felix he's about to interfere in the same business he pledged never to care about. But who could blame him for eavesdropping, or wanting small context clues? Felix swipes up and exits out of his screen, picking up the coverless phone.

Clearing his throat, he reads aloud: "Please, I need your help." Full stop. "Dongmin won't leave me alone." Full stop. "I'm in building 56 toilets. Meet me there and I'll explain everything." Full stop, end of text."

Felix hadn't noticed when Seungmin barged back into the dugout, eyes wide and laser-focused. He only realised the ace player was there when bags and equipment started getting thrown around in a frenzy.

Standing up with an alarmed look, Felix spoke with a quiver in his voice. "Whoa, whoa, what're you doing?"

Seungmin grabbed a baseball bat nestled inside one of the team's bags, and the blonde boy quickly jumped to his own conclusion. "Oh my god—wait, wait, wait! Is that for me?"

He swallowed and raised his hands defensively, finding Seungmin's hurried breaths through his nose far scarier than any horror movie Felix had ever watched—which, for reference, wasn't a lot.

“Look, I know what I said before about procrastinating and just being an all-around idiot, but I did start the project! I swear I'm halfway done, actually! And I don't have a problem with (Y/N). I think she's a really sweet girl—very studious—"

Seungmin levelled the bat to Felix's face, his withering glare the only restraint he had left. It conveyed all the anger he held for the blonde boy, wordlessly warning him that if he ever disrespected you again, Seungmin wouldn't take it lightly.

"That's great, Felix. Wanna test how far your responsibilities can go?"

Felix watched as Seungmin roped the coach's whistle off his neck before chucking it at Felix's chest, leaving him to instinctively put his hand out to catch it.

"Take over. Keep the team running laps until I'm back, or have them do drills."

"Wait, what? You're not serious?"

Perplexed by the new shiny toy in his hand, Felix's panicky eyes tread straight, following to where Seungmin jogs away, his hand fisting in the middle of the bat shaft. "Dead serious," Seungmin calls back, not even sparing a glance. "Don't let anyone stop."

The sun settled high into the sky, a summer morning more believable now with the widespread of uninterrupted blues. Jeongin, the team's known head case player, skids to a stop mid-lap, his chest heaving as he braces his hands on his knees, black hair glued down by his over-pouring sweat. "What's happening? Are we stopping?"

This morning, Felix happily skipped to practice with a fake cough and the dreams of playing electronic games until the afternoon. But now, the weight of his newfound authority felt a lot heavier than the stupid little whistle in his hand. "Maybe... no... I guess—look, I don't know how this works."

The baseball team surrounds Felix in seconds, centring him like a yolk inside an egg, and maybe that metaphor hit too close to base, because all their eyes glazed over with pure intent to pass on all their anger from Seungmin's morning boot camp onto Felix.

Great.

SEUNGMIN COULDN'T stop feeling angry. Even with the very concerning text messages you'd sent, his skin tingled with so much annoyance as he rehearsed exactly how to bring up the fact that you'd been ignoring him for a week.

What made it worse was that the ace player was just the right type of insufferable—someone careless and casual with people's emotions because, well, they weren't his to deal with. He never chased after answers—God, nothing was more pathetic than running around trying to piece together an explanation. He'd much rather wait until they cracked first, coming to him with whatever drama they had bottled up.

But then he thought back to that day in the small theatre room no one used anymore. You'd been sitting in one of those carpeted red chairs out of a row of twenty, minding your business, before looking up, spotting him, and abruptly shoving your lunch back into your bag like his presence ruined your appetite. Then, just like that, you were gone, leaving without so much as a single word—except maybe for that hiss of pain after you missed a step and fell to the floor, giving yourself rug burns.

Now, the irony was that the same guy who swore he'd never run after someone, was practically chasing after you, breaking every one of his rules, because waiting wasn't an option.

When Seungmin reaches Building 56, he barely spares the elevator a glance—it would take too long. Instead, he flings open the emergency exit door and takes the stairs, skipping two steps at a time.

Coming up the last staircase, the noise of someone crying hits him first. Who it belonged to was hard to figure out, as a huge crowd of students flooded the main corridor, their curiosity clearly outweighing their need for personal space. The hallway was so packed that some had to squeeze past the emergency exit door, spilling into the stairwell just to get enough room to watch whatever was going on.

"Fuck... Seungmin's behind me."

The whisper was barely audible, only meant for that person's friend to hear. But like dominos, heads started turning, shoulders stiffening, and within seconds the crowd perfectly split down the middle. It might've been the bat clenched in his hand that scared them enough to move, but something told the baseball player they were shoving him out, knowing well enough he had something to do with whatever was on the other-side.

When Seungmin broke past the last person, the centre purposefully emptied out in front of him. All he saw was a sobbing Dongmin, hunched over on the floor like he'd taken a severe beating to his stomach. "I can't leave, not until you talk to me!" Dongmin yells out, inching his head upwards, noticing the low-hanging snot dribbling past his reddening lips.

This was so humiliating. Seungmin had to resist the urge to just turn around and leave Dongmin there to choke on his own spit. But he obviously couldn't—not when you were basically stuck inside the bathroom and Dongmin couldn't stop yelling at the door.

He immediately heads over, a glowered look on his face. "What did you do to her?" Seungmin speaks in an accusatory tone.

"To her?" Dongmin croaked out, the crack in his throat making it clear he couldn't believe Seungmin was so quick to point the finger at him even when he looked miserable. "What about what she did to me? She ruined me."

Seungmin shook his head in disbelief, his grip tightening on the bat as Dongmin lurched forward, finding his balance on his folded knees like a desperate man pleading his case. "All we did was have sex—really, really great sex—and then she broke up with me an hour later. Over text."

Dongmin motions to the bathroom door, his expression twisting wildly as if he were handing the ace player the key to some grander mystery. But Seungmin didn't care whether or not he was telling the truth. Not even a little.

"She's the fucking problem!" Dongmin spat, his voice cracking with frustration.

"Careful with the fucking swearing," Seungmin shot back, giving him a warning look—a little head tilt paired with a raised brow. "Now, I don't know what you thought was going to happen, but you're obviously not in the right headspace to fix this—not like this, and definitely not with half the school watching."

"If you're telling me to leave, I'm not going." Dongmin shook his head furiously, his fists clenching at his sides. "She needs to come out here and give me a good, believable reason why she broke up with me. Something that makes sense."

Seungmin's lips twitched into the faintest smirk, his voice dropping into a mutter as he leaned forward slightly. "I can think of one already."

Before Dongmin could respond, Seungmin took a step closer and crouched down, levelling their eyes. His tone turned dangerously calm, the edges of his words razor-sharp. "Here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to stop crying. Yeah, that's step one. And then, you're going to sit here quietly like a good boy while I go in there and talk to her. After that, we'll get to the bottom of this—without me having to use my bat on you."

Dongmin flinches a little, fear caught in his brown eyes. "That's a joke... right?"

"For now." Seungmin's response made the fight in Dongmin's posture cripple.

He stands up, walking towards the bathroom door. The door didn't have one of those outside handles you could yank on—just a push plate—but he could picture you on the other side, probably bracing it with your whole body, determined to keep Dongmin from slipping in.

Seungmin doesn't bother knocking. Instead, he leans in close, lowering his voice as he quietly calls out, "It's me. Can I come in?"

Quickly, the door flings open. "I'm so glad you came!" you exclaimed, not giving Seungmin the opportunity to see the state you were in before pulling him into a hug that was equally aggressive, as the ace player felt his back smack against the now closed door.

All his previous anger almost dissolved at the feeling of your body against his. Almost. You finally release Seungmin just enough to look at you, and it takes all his willpower not to visibly wince at the fact one of your false lashes hung unnaturally close to your cheek, and your lipstick was smudged enough to suggest either an emotional breakdown or a very aggressive make-out session. Or maybe a weird combination of the two.

"You got a little," he starts slowly, vaguely pointing to it, before giving up and motioning to your entire face. "Something everywhere."

You gasp, dramatically spinning to the bathroom mirror. "Oh, God." You peel off the struggling lash and place it delicately on the sink. "I didn't even notice until now—do you think I looked like this while talking to Dongmin?"

"Isn't he your ex-boyfriend now? You're way past the point of that being your priority." Seungmin says it pointedly. There's something unreasonably satisfying about saying it out loud—ex. He does it mostly for himself, but the way you react to it, how your hand stills mid-wipe as you clear away your messy eyeliner, meeting his gaze through the mirror like you're equally caught off guard, excites him.

You blink, exhaling sharply before turning back to him. "How much did he tell you?"

The baseball player shrugs, taking the opportunity to lean his bat up against the wall. "I just heard that you guys broke up."

"That's a lie." You quickly correct him, sounding breathless, like you still haven't caught up with the whole situation yet. "Dongmin’s been telling the whole school that I couldn't even let his post-nut clarity settle before I called it off. You know, just say you do..."

Seungmin doesn't answer right away. He's too distracted by how utterly out of place he looks here. The girl's bathroom mirror isn't even high enough for his build, cutting off the top of his head completely, but when you're reflected in it, everything frames you just right, allowing him to catch the way your fingers tighten around the sink behind you, white-knuckled, like you're holding onto your embarrassment there, over the idea of him knowing anything at all.

"Yeah, okay. But that's not why I'm here." Seungmin shifts against the doorframe, arms crossed, voice completely void of concern. "I couldn’t care less about his problems. I came here with a solid proof getaway plan, and it's yours if you tell me the real reason why you ghosted me for a week."

That's a lie. Obviously. He didn't have a plan—at least, not a good one. But he would've helped you regardless, no matter how much you refused to explain yourself. Because Seungmin knew you. And if you were willing to subject yourself to the absolute humiliation of having your sex life on display outside a public bathroom, then unlawful assault was about to be the least of your worries.

You don't miss a beat. "You're not being serious."

Seungmin cocks his head, cap pressing against the short strands of his fringe, an unimpressed scowl settling across his face.

"Need I remind you," you say, tone clipped, "that there's a fully grown man outside this door, crying so hard he stops momentarily to gag, and he won't let me leave?"

You throw a finger toward the entrance, as if the pitiful, hiccupping sobs weren't already obvious enough. As if on a comedic cue, Dongmin whimpers out a weak little, "Hello?" from the other side. Seungmin—who had, up until this point, been resting against the door—responds with a sharp kick against it.

The baseball player doesn't even acknowledge it before moving on. "Did he get jealous about our friendship or something? Told you not to talk to me anymore?"

—"What? No, god, no."

—"Did he... like... finish in seconds instead of minutes?"

—"That would've made you so happy."

—"Is he gay?"

—“No—stop it. I'm not answering anymore.”

—“If he didn't do anything, did you do something?”

—“What does that even mean?”

—“I don't know, you tell me.”

Seungmin had enough sparring words in him to keep going until you broke, but after his last comment, you didn't even try to reject him. That, combined with the heavy silence stretching between you in the already-cramped bathroom, was enough for the baseball player to come to his own conclusion.

You did, in fact, do something.

And from the looks of it—your real lashes clumped together with wetness, not from sadness, but raw, unrelenting frustration. Like you were pissed at yourself for trying so hard to hold yourself together, only to break anyway.

Seungmin sighs deeply. He decides he'll tuck his own stubbornness faraway for now. The baseball player pushes off the wall and reaches for your wrist, noticing a not so inconspicuous tug back from your arm, as if his very hands were lit on fire and even being mere centimetres from him could leave deep burns. Either that or you were still very much angry that Seungmin’s default setting wasn’t to help you, but to clear away his own agenda.

“We won't do this here." Seungmin grumbles, tugging the cap off his own head—it's his most worn item to date, safely perched on his nightstand every single day since freshman year, ready to grab whenever he heads out the door—and smoothly places it over yours. But he doesn't stop there. His fingers linger at the brim, purposely tugging it lower so the edge dips past your eyes, effectively working to block the view of anything really.

"There." He steps back, watching you awkwardly try to beam up at him from beneath the shadow of the cap. It stuns Seungmin for a moment when he notices his chest tightening. Oh. “That's your magical cloak. Now you don't have to see them, and they don't get to see any part of you."

You purse your lips, clearly thinking. "Okay, that solves one issue," you say slowly, lifting your hands and flailing them dramatically in the open space in front of you. “But, um... I can't see shit, which is terrible if I also need to, y'know... walk.”

“Just trust me.” Seungmin says it simply, darting his fingers out, keeping his growing irritation to a minimum as he watches you hesitate yet again. "Keep your head down and watch only my hands. Nothing else."

He moves closer to the bathroom door, but pauses when he feels a different kind of heat bloom against his palm. He whirls back with a final look of surprise, only to find the brim of his hat staring back at him—attached to what looks like a rather convincing Sim character, standing frozen, waiting for the next task.

“Ready?”

There's a large intake of air. “No... does that mean we're fucked already?”

THERE ARE shards of glass slicing up your lungs as you rest against a darkly coated wooden desk—metaphorically this time, of course. The whole idea of Seungmin being the school’s golden arm had momentarily escaped you the second he bolted with you in hand. If you had remembered—instead of worrying about Dongmin grabbing onto your ankles—you wouldn’t have agreed, and maybe you wouldn’t be here, tasting iron in the back of your throat. Stupid.

When you finally manage to look up, a hand pressed into your side to keep the stitch from fully forming, the setting around you forces a breathy laugh from your lips, thick with irony.

The boy’s locker room.

How fitting that just minutes ago, you had Seungmin trapped inside the girl’s bathroom, and now he’s returned the favour—stepping past rows of open lockers and the souring smell of sweat, just to lock you up inside the coach’s office.

“Was your boyfriend always this pathetic?” Seungmin is the forgetful one this time. He stands with his back against the door, as if the large window panel beside it hadn’t already given away the perpetrators inside the tiny room, with a certain weight in his eyes despite his joking tone. It makes you wonder whether it’s just another one of his calculated questions, designed to get you to say exactly what he wants.

You gulp before stating, matter-of-factly, “You mean ex-boyfriend.”

And saying it should hurt—should feel like a sharp reminder that there’s now a gaping hole in your chest. But instead, it gets mistranslated in the way you tip back to sit further up on the desk, letting your Mary Jane-clad feet swing from a table that’s probably seen more balled fists slammed down in anger than anything else.

“No. That’s why everything he’s doing now surprises me.” The second the words are out, they hang wrong in the air. You’re doing it again. Giving him the benefit of a doubt he’s never earned. Instantly, your mouth curls, and before you know it, you fall into Seungmin’s trap one way or another. “Actually, you know what? Yeah. He’s so fucking pathetic.”

You lock eyes with the baseball player, gripped by this strange urge to unload a year’s worth of frustration onto him—the same way his coach expects his bat to hit a home run every time. And you don’t know if it’s because he looks strong enough to take it, or because you want to see if he’ll break. See if he’ll finally get angry at you.

“Dongmin has been pathetic since the night I tried riding him and he panicked about me bending his shrivelling dick into some weird flesh origami. He’s selfish and stupid. Always has been… he just did a really fucking good job of making me think he wasn’t.”

You scoff, doing everything to stay light and calm under these weird circumstances. Though the room still clings to a quietness that leaves no room for peace—just an overbearing pressure that reminds you Seungmin is very much here, listening to you blurt out your sex horror stories—still watching you.

His face doesn’t shift. You regret ever taking his sarcastic nature for granted, because you would’ve killed to see his lips wobble with the control to keep himself from smiling. But there’s not a smirk.

Then he says it—low.

“Who was it?”

Your pulse stutters. It’s a vague question, and you could, all the more, ask him to explain himself clearer, but you knew what it had to be after the commotion in the toilet—so did your body, which involuntarily thinks about the time it stung with pleasure underneath Dongmin, thinking about Seungmin—and all you can muster as a response is… nothing.

You watch nervously, suddenly turning into a gladiator in an arena, eyeing the stalking lion that pushes off the doorframe, rounding around the desk. It was quite possibly the hottest Seungmin had ever looked. But you knew the reason why he kept walking closer—halting just where your knees tied close together—was because you had already given your confession in reverse, and all he was looking for was proof that he wasn’t going insane.

Instinctively, your mind wills your legs to part—just enough, a silent invitation for Seungmin to close the space between you. But he’s already made that decision himself. His hands brush the sides of your knees, guiding them apart before stepping in, like he’s been waiting for this moment longer than you’ve been dreading it.

The hem of your skirt hikes up with the movement, the cool air licking at the heat between your thighs—your body betraying you, aching to buck into the rough fabric of his pants.

“Seungmin,” you breathe, though you don’t know if it’s a warning, or a plea. It sounds too soft. Too wanting. Like you’re asking for something neither of you are ready to name.

His fingers haven’t stopped swiping at your skin. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.” That was a lie. But it felt easier than trying to explain the truth—that it wasn’t him fucking you senselessly into the mattress that pushed you over the edge. It was worse than that. It was the image of him smiling, soft and stupid. Or the quiet outline of his back turned toward you, relaxed and unguarded, like he was waiting for you to come wrap your arms around him.

That was what ruined you. Something so devastatingly ordinary that it cracked the floor beneath you wide enough to fall straight through it.

Straight into him.

He laughs, puffing hot air into your face. “Bullshit. You haven’t been able to look at me for more than a second.” There’s a note of patience in his throat. “I knew it was me… even before you got with Dongmin.”

By now, the desperate need for him to hold you is confused with the want to punish him.

“If you knew—” You shove him a little. He doesn’t budge, and it does nothing but anger you more when you feel him inch his fingers under your skirt, dizzyingly close to where your hips meet your thighs, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take while you’re still mad at him.

And he takes, and takes.

“If you knew, then why’d you mess with me so much? You could’ve left me alone. But instead, you slept with every girl who looked your way. Paraded them in front of me like I wasn’t even—”

“Because I wanted you to stop looking at me like I was something you could actually love,” Seungmin says harshly. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to do relationships without disappointing someone. So yeah, I might’ve fucked girls who didn’t matter—sue me. You also used Dongmin to bury everything you felt for me.”

Your jaw is tight, glaring intensely. “I did love him.”

But by now, the button of Seungmin’s jeans is pressed firm against the heat of your core, and you can’t think back on any shared memory between your ex-boyfriend that had the opportunity to come this close to being this shattering. No, there had to be one. Was there?

When he speaks again—his voice barely a breath, inches from your wet mouth—it doesn’t sound like a confession.

It sounds like a fucking verdict.

“Enough to picture my face while he was fucking you.”

Then there’s a moment—just one—where your mouths finally collide (with the lone clumsiness of forgetting the baseball player’s hat and colliding with the brim first before anything, chucking it to the side), hands grabbing and kneading your body with such force. And Seungmin’s mouth—fuck—his mouth leaves a small cluster of fires that drop into your belly, igniting and burning down the lining of your stomach until all that’s left is a hollowed-out ache in the shape of him.

You whimper when his fingers dip low, hooking under the thin bands of your underwear. He tugs—up—and the fabric wedges tight between your folds, pressure zeroing in on your clit so sweet and sharp it knocks the breath out of you.

“Ngh—ah—” you gasp, legs twitching and opening wider. He settles back, eyes blown out and taking you in.

Then he drags one finger down. Slow. Feather-light. Tracing the tension he just created. From the peak, right over the swollen fabric, down, down—until he’s pressing deep over your clothed entrance, and it’s enough to break something loose inside you.

“Was this how you looked like thinking about me?” You moan in response to his lewd question, your hips jerking forward, chasing the friction like it’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. It’s pathetic how quickly you’re spiralling. How fast he reduces you to this before he’s even inside you.

And that terrifies you.

Because this was real. It wasn’t the dissociating images you conjure up to distract you from the stale rhythm of someone trying to love you the right way. It was Seungmin, with his teasing mouth and bruised heart, being consumed with his very own desires and satiating it the only way he knew how to.

It was imperfect.

“I can’t do this.” Your hand slips up, resting lightly against his arm—just enough pressure to still him. Seungmin stops, confusion flashing across his face, then fades into something softer. He doesn’t speak—just watches you, waiting.

“I trust you as my best friend. I always have.” You glance away for a beat, then back up at him. “But this... what we’re doing—I don’t trust you with it. Not yet. It has to grow naturally. I need to know it’s real. That this isn’t just... hormones or timing or some ego trip because I came thinking about you.”

There’s still an unclear want to give in to him while resisting him. “I don’t want 20 minutes of something intense that disappears by morning. I want to know we’re both in this for the right reasons. That we’re risking the friendship because we actually want each other... not because it feels good to be wanted.”

The silence stretches. “I’m not saying don’t try. I’m saying... if we’re doing this, I need us both to mean it.”

This is the part you forgot how to do. The part that got buried after a year of being Dongmin’s perfect ‘yes man’. Always agreeable, always softening your edges to fit the version of you he could manage. You spent so long smoothing over his messes that the idea of setting a boundary felt foreign.

So no—choosing yourself doesn’t feel like some glowing act of self-empowerment. It feels like rejecting the one thing you’ve been aching for. It feels like standing in front of someone you’ve loved in too many complicated, unspoken ways... and saying not yet.

“If that’s what you need, I’ll try.” It’s not a promise, but it’s enough. Seungmin leans back, helping you readjust your underwear, the wetness making sitting all the more uncomfortable, though it entertains the baseball player. Perhaps it’s a small payback from all the shitty treatment he’s gotten from his coach.

“Just… don’t hold the first three screw-ups against me,” he adds, mouth twitching into something not quite a smile. “I’m more practice than presentation. Not really the flowers and teddy bears type.”

A small laugh tumbles past your lips, appreciating the familiarity in his tone. “No. You’re more ‘boy’s locker room and lending your girl your baseball jersey after marking her up in it’ type.”

That gets him. A blink paired with a slow raise of one slit brow—like he’s filing the image away in his memory cabinet in real time, just in case he needs it later for inspiration.

Your phone buzzes with perfect timing, eliminating the growing awkwardness. Fishing it out and lazily flicking open your screen, Seungmin doesn’t ask at first. Just watches. But the second your features quirk—

“Who is it?” he says, not too casual, distracting himself by bending and picking up his baseball cap, dusting it off against his thigh that was too close to his growing bulge.

You glance up. “Weird... it’s Felix. He just sent me his part of the project. I’ve been chasing him down for a week.”

Seungmin leans back against the window, arms crossed again. “Guess guilt finally won.” He says it flatly, but there’s a flicker of something beneath his words—amusement, mostly. Like he’ll bring this moment up in a couple of days, preferably around Felix, coaxing him to outwardly say who had played a big role in successfully getting him to help you.

You type a quick reply, shooting off a sarcastic thank-you message with one hand. A beat later, your phone dings again. But this time, the sound doesn’t come from your device.

It comes from somewhere outside the door.

Seungmin pieces it together quickly. “Felix?” Craning his head back to peer out through the office window, the ace player watches parts of his fellow teammate become visible behind a row of lockers, hand poking out within the darkness, holding up a lit phone.

“I was gonna knock,” comes Felix’s unmistakable voice—a little nervous and rightfully grossed out for someone who eavesdropped from outside the coach’s office. “But things got wild really quickly… so I tried breaking the ice over text.”

232 notes · View notes

vixen-tech · 5 months ago

Text

Crossover Mayhem!

What's better than having one lovable robot in your house? Having eight in your house! How do they interact, how do they feel about each other, and just how did they get here?

Spolier alert but that last one is never answered, just enjoy some assorted silly self-indulgent headcanons in celebration of my first fic, Human's Touch, reaching 1,000 notes! As well as an official end to my hiatus

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), P03 (Inscryption), Auto (Wall-E), Glados (Portal), Wheatley (Portal 2)

The mystery of how you ended up with everyone safely in your own home is second only to how you managed to keep them all from trying to rip each other apart.

Although that doesn't necessarily mean that they get along, especially early on. AM, Glados, and P03 like threatening everyone and love threatening each other- at this point you're sure the three of them started bonding over it but you're not sure when.

P03 tends to be the most antisocial of the lot, hiding away in whatever room you've allotted for him. But he and Hal did teach each other Inscryption and Chess respectively (at your suggestion), and you'll often find them playing together. P03 continues to be a sore loser.

No one is quite sure what to make of Auto. Since he has a tendency to do and say nothing for hours at a time- moving from room to room and just, staring. Except Hal, Hal seems to get him. You're pretty confident they're friends but also pretty confident they've said next to nothing to each other.

Assuming you have the space for it, Tau would love to take up gardening. He'll often get visited by Edgar or Wheatley proding him with questions (which he is always happy to answer) or by Auto who especially likes(?) to watch the garden. In silence of course. Tau doesn't mind him all that much but Edgar and Wheatley will leave if they see him coming, they find Auto a tad unnerving.

Hal, Edgar, and Tau form something of a music club in your house. They take turns sharing songs they like or even singing, dispite the differences in genres. Tau especially loves listening to Edgar's original songs, he may even ask for pointers on writing his own.

Wheatley's inferiority complex gets extra bad- being in a small area with not only Glados, but all the others who all have one thing minimum they're great at. At least Hal, Tau, and Edgar are nice to him- but that's offset by AM and P03 joining Galdos in terrorizing him. You're going to have to do some work with him.

Edgar and Wheatley do specifically become something of a trouble maker duo. It's not unusual to hear shattering glass from the next room over and find them guiltily trying to hide a broken plate. Although you tend to forgive them pretty easily (much to Glados's frustration) on account that it's almost always an accident.

You do your best to organize bonding activities for everyone. To varying levels of success. Your old reliable is putting on a movie or show and setting out random art supplies and board games. Once you even tried doing a video game tournament, but P03 got a bit too competitive for your liking. Most of them do appreciate you for trying though.

AM and Glados also click as a duo easily- but for all the wrong reasons. They love freaking everyone out, you included. AM gets into the habit of asking you disturbing, saw movie level 'would you rather' questions. He just enjoys creeping you out, but Galdos is always actually interested in your reasoning.

The others are healthily concerned about how comfortable you are around those two, but they're also constantly making jabs at the 'inferior robots'. Like- come on, why are you so attracted to the one literally titled the 'intelligence dampening sphere'. Aka: they think you're cool and smart and should hang out with them more, but of course they'd never plainly tell you that.

It does become a sort of running gag that finally they're the normal ones and you're the strange creature since you're the only human. They love poking fun at anything from your constant need to eat to the way you have to shut down for eight hours each night. God forbid you ever get sick.

Dispite, you know, owning the house they end up treating you by cat rules. You are liable to be pet (should you allow it), and if you fall asleep on someone it is unlikely they will move until you wake up. With the notable exceptions of Tau, who will bring you to your bedroom; and P03 who will feel little remorse at waking you up himself.

Needless to say you also have a fantastic home security system now. Between that being one of Tau's main jobs, AM and Glados being prone to homicide in general, and Auto having a taser (which was a surprise to everyone, they're all a little more concerned about him now) anyone who tries to break into your house is beyond screwed. They are not gonna let some random human hurt you.

Although the degree to which they show it differs wildly, they are appreciative of the home you've tried to make for them. Being free with some of the only other beings who could possibly understand their life experience is likely something they would have never been able to experience otherwise.

That may be why they haven't tried to destroy each other yet, the fear of good old mutually assured destruction. It would be just plain stupid to jeopardize your affection and thus their place in the house like that.

All in all, it certainly makes for a strange living arrangement but you cannot find it in yourself to regret the choices that led you to this point. You love your robots and you're at least seventy percent sure they love you to.

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baelabong · 9 months ago

Text

𝖯𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋

—————————————————————————

Pairing: g!p Karina x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Y/N, a skilled prosecutor, takes on a high-profile embezzlement case against Jeon Jungkook, while facing off against the formidable defense attorney Karina. As the courtroom battles intensify, so does the tension and jealousy between Y/N and Karina, blurring the lines between their professional and personal lives.

Warning: sex?!

—————————————————————————

The doors of your office open, a smiling Minjeong heading your way with a stack of papers in her hands.

“What’s up, gay-ass”, the woman in the suit chuckled

Rolling your eyes at your antics, you already knew what she was here for.

“Hand me the paper already,” you say with a playful tone

Placing the stack of papers on your desk, you eye the one on top taking it in your hands.

“Embezzlement?” You asked

“I know … but if you keep reading, you’ll see it involves Jeon Jungkook, that celebrity”

Nodding in acknowledgment she continues

“Getting accused of embezzling funds from charities he’s supported? Now that’s something”, Minjeong shakes her head

Being the most talented prosecutor alive, well Atleast that’s what you think, you nod.

“I’ll take it”

With a small smile Minjeong leaves you to it.

—-

Sat in your office, surrounded by stacks of files and evidence related to your latest high-profile case. The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the cluttered desk.

Glancing at the headline on your computer screen: "Jeon Jungkook Accused of Embezzlement from Charity" The article detailed the accusations against the internationally renowned celebrity, alleging that he had siphoned funds meant for a children's charity into his personal accounts.

The door to Y/N's office creaked open, and Minjeong her fellow co-worker stepped in.

"Hey, how's the case coming along?" she asked, dropping a coffee cup on your desk.

Sighing and rubbing your temples. "It's a mess. The media is all over it, and the evidence is all over the place.

Jungkook's fans are in an uproar, and the charity is desperate for justice."

Minjeong sat down across from Y/N, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I heard Karina's defending him. That should make things interesting."

Y/N rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Interesting is one way to put it. She's already been making her usual snide remarks during the preliminary hearings."

Minjeong leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Just remember, your wife will NOT be happy about this," she teased, winking.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, she can deal with it. This is work."

—-

Over the next few days, Y/N delved deeper into the case. She combed through financial records, interviewed witnesses, and gathered evidence that pointed towards Jungkook's involvement in the embezzlement scheme.

Despite the mountain of work, she found herself looking forward to the verbal sparring matches with Karina during their encounters.

One evening, Y/N was going through a particularly dense stack of documents when her phone buzzed. It was a message from Karina: "Ready for another round tomorrow? Don't be late. ;)"

YIN chuckled, typing back a quick reply:

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Bring your A-game."

—-

Y/N stood in a quiet corner of the courthouse hallway, talking and laughing with her coworker, Mark. He was charming and funny, and y/n knew he had an interest in her. As Mark leaned in to make a joke, Y/N threw her head back, laughing freely.

Unbeknownst to her, Karina had just stepped into the hallway, catching sight of the interaction. Her eyes narrowed, and she paused, her expression a mix of irritation and something more difficult to read.

“What the fuck is she looking at?”Y/N thought, her laughter fading as she met Karina's gaze across the hallway. Karina's piercing stare sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel the tension radiating from her.

Mark seemed oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere. "You should come out with us tonight, Y/N. It'll be fun," he said, his tone playful.

Y/N forced a smile, her mind still on Karina's reaction. "Maybe, we'll see."

Karina's eyes bore into Y/N's, and she could almost hear her thoughts. *Does she really think she can flirt with someone else right in front of me?* The thought was both thrilling and infuriating.

Y/N excused herself from Mark, walking briskly toward Karina. As she approached, she saw the flash of jealousy in Karina's eyes, and it made her heart race.

"What was that about?" Karina asked, her voice low and controlled, but Y/N could sense the underlying tension.

"Nothing important," Y/N replied nonchalantly, though her pulse quickened. "Just work stuff."

Karina's gaze flicked over to Mark and then back to Y/N. "It didn't look like just work stuff."

Y/N took a step closer, lowering her voice. "You're overreacting. Remember, we have to keep this professional."

You walk away from the taller girl, heels clacking as you entered the courtroom again.

The courts atmosphere was electric. The media presence was overwhelming, with cameras flashing and reporters jostling for the best spot.

Jungkook sat beside Karina, looking stoic and composed.

As you presented your case, you couldn't help but notice Karina's intense focus.

Every argument you made, Karina countered with equal force. Always butting in with your statements making your blood boil in anger.

“Your honour, my client did no such thing”, she kept pressing

After the cross examination, Karina asked for a recess, which the judge granted

Taking this opportunity, you cornered Karina in a quiet hallway.

"You know he's guilty, right?" You said, your voice low and challenging.

Karina smirked, stepping closer. "That's for the jury to decide, isn't it?" She paused, her eyes softening slightly.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

You grinned

Karina leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. "Careful, someone might think you're flirting."

Your heart skipped a beat, but thank the Lord’s you kept your composure

"And what if I am?"

Karina's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Then you'd better be ready for the consequences."

“The fuck, sorry but I have a wife”

With a scoff, Karina walks away turning her back on Y/n.

——-

The courtroom buzzed with tension as the trial resumed after recess. You exchanged a brief, intense look with Karina before the judge called the court to order.

"Counselors, you may proceed." The judge started

Stepping forward, you address the jury with confidence.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the evidence presented today will unequivocally show that the defendant, Jeon Jungkook, knowingly participated in an elaborate embezzlement scheme..."

As you continued your opening statement, Karina watched with a keen eye, her mind already formulating her counterarguments. When it was her turn, she rose gracefully, her presence commanding attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you will see today is not a case of embezzlement, but a misunderstanding and misrepresentation of facts. My client is innocent..."

The trial progressed, with both sides presenting evidence and questioning witnesses. The tension between you and Karina was palpable, each one determined to outmaneuver the other.

"Objection, Your Honor! The defense is leading the witness."

"Sustained. Ms. Karina, please refrain from leading the witness."

Karina nodded, adjusting her approach with a confident smirk. You felt a surge of satisfaction but knew the battle was far from over. When it was your turn to cross-examine a witness, Karina was quick to interrupt.

"Objection, Your Honor! Relevance?"

"The witness's testimony is directly related to the timeline of events, Your Honor."

"Overruled. Continue, Ms. Y/N."

The courtroom drama intensified with each objection and counter-objection. You felt the pressure mounting, but you thrived on it. Karina’s every move seemed calculated to throw you off balance, yet you countered with equal precision.

"Objection, Your Honor! The defense is badgering the witness."

"Sustained. Ms. Karina, please restrain your line of questioning."

Karina shot you a glare, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at having won that round. But she quickly recovered, pressing on with her case.

"Your Honor, I move to dismiss the charges on the grounds of insufficient evidence."

You felt your heart sink. The judge considered the motion, the courtroom holding its collective breath.

"Motion denied. Proceed with closing arguments."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. This was it—the final showdown. You poured every ounce of passion and conviction into your closing argument, determined to make the jury see the truth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the evidence is clear. The defendant is guilty of embezzlement. Justice must be served."

Karina followed, her voice steady and compelling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the prosecution has not met the burden of proof. My client is innocent, and I urge you to deliver a verdict of not guilty."

The jury deliberated, and the tension was unbearable. When they returned, the foreperson stood.

"We find the defendant not guilty."

You felt a wave of defeat wash over you as Karina's team celebrated. The judge dismissed the court, and you gathered your things, your heart heavy with disappointment.

You stormed out of the courtroom, frustration and anger bubbling inside you. Karina caught up with you in the hallway, a smug smile on her face.

"Tough break, Y/N. Better luck next time."

You glared up at her before saying

“Get the fuck away from me Yoo” and with that, you stormed off back to the office.

——-

2:30 am

The clock read as you yawned. After the case ended earlier, you decided to do some extra work to occupy your mind.

Ding

Your phone vibrated as a text popped up.

hey, why aren’t you back at the apartment yet

With a sigh, you closed your phone, packing up your stuff and locking up your office.

Pulling up to your penthouse, you received another text.

Why aren’t you replying?

Deciding to ignore it again, you trudged to the door of your penthouse and entered, taking your time with removing your shoes and coat that kept you warm despite wearing a skirt and blouse.

You realized the lights in the living room were on. Hmm. Walking in, you were met with your wife giving you a stern look.

“Love, where have you been?” she inquired.

“That court case tired me out today,” you said, giving her a pout.

“Hm … is that so? So you weren’t with Mark just then, were you?”

“Give it up, Karina. I’m so sick of today’s bullshit,” you snapped. As if on cue, she stomped towards you, trapping you against the edge of the couch.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” she growled, grabbing your jaw and making you look at her.

You stayed quiet as she continued, “Do you know how hard it was to suppress myself from killing Mark myself for even asking you to go out?”

Your eyes darted away, unable to hold her piercing gaze.

Having enough, she pushed you down on the couch, flipping you over and yanking your panties and skirt off.

You looked behind you as she reached into her boxers to grab her hard-on, the tip red and angry, leaking with precum.

She was even bigger when hard, you thought, almost packing 7.5 inches.

Karina didn’t waste any time. She lined herself up and thrust into you with a single, powerful stroke, making you gasp as she filled you completely. The sensation of her stretching you out was intense, and you could feel your tummy bulging slightly from the sheer size of her.

“Look at you, taking all of me,” she hissed, gripping your hips tightly. “So fucking pathetic. You think you can just flirt with anyone and get away with it?”

You whimpered, her rough handling and harsh words sending shivers down your spine. Each thrust was deep and punishing, driving you further into the couch.

“Tell me, baby, who do you belong to?” she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

“You,” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling under her relentless pace.

“That’s right,” she growled. “You’re mine. Only mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

Karina’s thrusts grew more forceful, her hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. You could feel every inch of her, the pressure building inside you as she took you harder and deeper.

“You’re going to take all of my cum,” she snarled, her grip on your hips tightening. “I’m going to breed you so you remember who you belong to.”

The dirty talk only heightened your arousal, the combination of pleasure and humiliation pushing you closer to the edge. Karina’s pace was relentless, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

“You like that, don’t you?” she taunted, her voice dripping with disdain. “You like being used like this, don’t you, slut?”

“Yes,” you cried out, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. “I love it.”

With a final, shuddering thrust, Karina buried herself deep inside you, her release hot and thick as she filled you completely. The sensation of her cum flooding you pushed you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling.

Karina held you close, her breathing ragged as she whispered in your ear, “You’re mine. Always.”

#fem reader #reader insert #aespa karina #karina x reader #karina #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #jimin #aespa kpop #aespa x reader #aespa icons #aespa #baelabong #kpop girls #kpop

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h3rmess · 2 months ago

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WHO'S YOUR FRIEND

Written by @h3rmess ✰

3) - oops…

-> written part at the end

“You guys saw reo’s twitter post, right?” Otoya asks, his feet up on the dining table.

“Put your feet down, Otoya. And yes, I spoke with Nagi about it. I went by his dorm again earlier.” Yukimiya responds, clearly feeling up with Otoya.

“So? What’d he say?” Karasu walks towards the table, a towel in his hand as he dries his hair, wet from his prior shower.

“Here, take a look.” Yukimiya hands Karasu his phone, open on his text messages with Nagi. Karasu read through the texts, his face contorting into what seems like a confused look, Otoya standing up to peer over the phone. Otoya sits back down, picking up his phone once more.

“Damn, didn’t know you had a secret admirer.” Otoya remarks.

“Shut up.” Karasu snaps back, trying the mask his embarrassment.

He hands Yukimiya his phone back, placing his head in his hands. Yukimiya turns off his phone and sets it down on the table.

“When I spoke with Nagi in person after seeing Reo’s post, he explained that Y/n had watched all of your games and made a photo album of your best moments.” Yukimiya explained to the two.

Karasu just scoffed, looking away in an unimpressed manner.

“I’d kill to have a chick that obsessed with me.” Otoya’s eyes stayed glued to his phone as he spoke.

“What does she look like anyway?” Karasu questions out of curiosity, his interest piqued.

Otoya clicks on Reo’s twitter account and scrolls down a bit before showing his phone to Karasu and Yukimiya. Karasu’s eyes widen at what he sees. He didn’t expect her to be so pretty…

“Woah…” Yukimiya gasps softly. “She’s beautiful.”

“Damn right she is. How the hell do I get her number? Lemme ask Reo!” Otoya starts to type out a message to Reo before being smacked by Karasu.

“Leave her alone, shithead. She’s way outta yer league.” Karasu stands from his seat, turning to walk away. “I’m gonna go train. See ya.” He waves them off, never turning back.

He stops once he’s far away from the room, his heart beating faster than usual.

“Huh?” He huffs out, but decides to blame it on how fast he walked away from the boys.

prev | masterlist | next

-> forgot to add my note before posting oops. Anyway some of this will be written just so I can add more context and content for you guys! You’ve all been so sweet to me it’s making me emotional I LOVE YOUUUU

TAGLIST (comment to join!!)

@yzzxo @karasusrealwife @appl3-0rchard @cyberheartrebel @sugacor3 @misosoupii @shittyclarineted @lilsebnem @90s-belladonna @blueballslock @pookalicious-hq @vextyyx @lizbix @sindulgent666 @yeshiioo

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brenwritesss · 11 months ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: You and Paige talk more after the live, resulting in the two of you getting to know each other.

paigebueckers sent you a message.

"You said you had a thing for blonde hoopers?"

You smile at the message, expecting her to have said something like this. You weren’t blind; you did see all of the notifications of people tagging her in your comments, and you in hers. You saw what she said about you and your ex-girlfriend. And she was exactly your type so you were going to have fun with this.

“Yeah I said that.”

Within seconds, you saw Paige typing and you wondered what she was going to say. However, you felt a bit of unease as you recalled memories from your previous relationship. You were a flirt, everyone on social media knew when they saw your interviews and even your songs were flirtatious. But you didn’t just want to flirt with Paige. You didn’t want to get hurt again or get your hopes up.

“Come to one of my games. I’ll make it worth watching.”

Your heart beat sped up, a blush creeping up on your cheeks. “I’ll think about it.”

“Are you gonna be in CT anytime soon?”

“Yeah, for a tour in a couple of months.”

“Where at?”

“Hartford.”

“Not that far from Storrs, sounds good to me.”

“What?” You were confused at what she was saying.

“I’ll come see you when you’re in Hartford and you’ll come to one of my games.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?”

“What, like you’re gonna say no?”

You let out a small laugh, clutching your phone in your hands and practically kicking your feet in bed like a little kid. Texting her back you said, “No, I’ll say yes.”

“That’s what I thought.”

God, she was so hot.

You had decided to go scroll on TikTok, not wanting to give Paige the satisfaction of noticing how fast you were replying to her. Immediately upon opening the app, the clip of you and Paige on KK’s live flirting with each other was sure enough, going viral. You decided to take this opportunity to stalk Paige’s account to further see what you were getting yourself into. In the span of ten minutes, you found yourself towards the bottom of her page, looking at all of her old cringey TikTok’s that she filmed back when she was in highschool.

Trying to scroll to the next video, your finger slipped, causing you to tap on the like button. “Oh shit,” you said to yourself as you quickly unlike it and mentally slap yourself in the face. Now Paige would know that you were stalking her Tiktoks.

It wasn’t long before you received another DM from a specific blonde hooper:

“So instead of texting me back, you go stalk my TikToks?”

Shit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Baby you’re not slick.”

Internally freaking out, you took a second to realize the current situation that you were in. I’m Y/n fucking L/n, there’s no way I’m getting this flustered by a college basketball player. You needed to fire back with some heat and fast before Paige found out she could have you wrapped around her finger. Texting back, you said, “baby you're not special.”

“Whatever you say, beautiful.”

Deciding to have some fun with her, you type, “you think I’m pretty?”

“Y/n, the whole world thinks you’re gorgeous.”

“I didn’t ask about the world, I asked about you.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen fr. I’m not even playing.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks while you smiled at your phone. You didn’t know how to respond to that, the only thing you could think of was, “thank you Paige.”

Her response was instant. “I can show you how pretty I think you are.”

“That could be taken so many ways.”

You could practically feel her smirking on her side of the phone. “I’ll take it wherever you want.”

“Interesting offer, Bueckers.”

“KK wanted me to tell you she’s a huge fan💀”

“Haha tell her I said I’m a huge fan of her. And that she’s invited to my show in Hartford.”

“Where’s my invite?”

“You listen to my music?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then I guess you can come.”

“You guess?”

“I can tell security to not let you in if you’d like.”

“Okay, no I’m perfectly happy with my invite.” Before you could respond, she began typing again, “what’s your favorite flower?”

You were taken back by the random question. “Uh Lilies of the Valley. Why?”

“Just wondering. I’ve got practice but I’d like to talk more later if that’s chill with you?”

“Yeah, that’s cool.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

You liked her message and put down your phone. You had to be careful because if this continued, you’d find yourself whipped and simping for Paige Bueckers. You let yourself fall asleep, thinking about your recent conversation with Paige. Don’t get hurt, was all that was replaying in your head. As long as you kept your guard up, not getting hurt should be easy.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of your doorbell. You slowly got out of bed in nothing but an old t-shirt and shorts and made your way through your house to the front door. Checking your peephole, there was nobody standing there which you found quite odd.

Deciding to open the door, you couldn’t see anyone walking away from your door. Just as you were about to close it, your eyes drifted towards the ground and a bouquet of flowers caught your eye. Picking up the bouquet, you examined it. A small bouquet of Lilies of the Valley. You smiled and looked for a card inside the bouquet. Sure enough, you found one:

Let me show you how beautiful you are

-Paige

Her texts began to replay in your head. Yeah, you were definitely fucked.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #wcbb

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writing-mlm · 3 months ago

Text

When Will I see you again?

Summary: After the second task, Cedric can’t keep his feelings for his best friend a secret. Things don’t go as plan after the third task, though. Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Male!Reader Wc: 5.3k tags/warnings: ravenclaw reader, canon divergence, hurt/comfort, coma, draco is a dick, HP slander a/n: obligatory I would curb stomp jkr if given the chance

The Great Hall’s entrance was filled with students, all of whom were waiting for the clock to strike eight and the doors would open. Partners from separate houses were finding each other on the edges of the crowd; thankfully you hadn’t been one of those. Ever the gentleman Cedric had waited at the top of Ravenclaw’s staircase for you. Even if he hadn’t asked you in a romantic sense and said you were going as mates. Cho had declined his offer and you weren’t all that interested in the girls at school.

No other reason.

Soon after getting to the crowd Professor McGonagall had called the champions to the front of it. You’d seen Krum and Hermione and took a second for yourself, surely the eighteen-year-old Quidditch star hadn't asked out the barely fifteen-year-old Hermione?

You didn’t feel strange in the line of pairs, standing behind Hermione but in front of Parvati. It felt right to be considered Cedric’s partner for the Yule Ball.

Cedric carefully wrapped his hand around your elbow as the rest of the students entered the Great Hall. His grip was loose until McGonagall told the champions to follow after her where his fingers tightened around your satin blazer. You felt him take a deep breath with each step, the applause from all sides felt deafening but at least most of the attention was on Harry and not the two guys walking together.

But it wasn’t as though you weren’t known together. While Cedric was known as the human embodiment of the Hufflepuff values, you were his Ravenclaw best friend. Friends since your first year after he’d helped you get the courage to get on a broom during lessons. Such good friends that other Ravenclaws stopped being surprised when you cheered for Cedric during Hufflepuff Vs. Ravenclaw games.

It’s just now you’re older and slowly growing out of the hormonal phase that awakened certain things in you. And Cedric. Although smart as you were, you were convinced he was thoroughly set on dating Cho Chang. And she's lovely, if you were into the girls at school you’d probably go for her, too.

Your eyes catch her on the dance floor, dancing with some random Gryffindor guy with a tight smile and barely hidden boredom whenever they would talk between dancing. The guy looked fine, though. Content even.

You admittedly hadn’t danced much that night, at least not nearly as much as other people did. On Cedric’s own account, he would’ve had a heart attack if he held you so close again without being able to hold you closer. He couldn’t bear staring at your face as he held you without his face turning red. How his hands would get so sweaty he’d need a second to wipe them on his shirt without you taking notice because you’d been trying to do the same thing.

So, sitting and eating was the next best thing. Laughing and talking about whatever you wanted until it was time to leave. He’d found Harry and told him about some of the tournament business while you waited at the bottom of the staircase, messing with the yellow corsage he’d gifted you at the beginning of the night.

That night he walked you back to the top of the tower and lingered behind, feeling as if he ended the night on such an open note it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

—

Anyone who’s friends with Cedric knows he wakes up an hour before breakfast. He spends thirty minutes getting dressed and then spends the rest of the time wandering about the grounds before it’s time to eat. Everyone also knows that at some point during the wandering, you appear at his side.

His routine was a little different today considering today was the second task and he was a bit anxious. This time he waited near Ravenclaw Tower for you, he’d seen most of your housemates walking past him and then one of your roommates. Cedric catches him before he can walk too far away and asks about you. Your roommate shrugs, they haven’t seen you since last night.

Now, Cedric doesn’t panic. You’ve probably fallen asleep in the library again and you’re waiting in the Great Hall. That happens about once a month. So, he goes to the hall and looks around for you. He sees the blue robes from your house but he doesn’t see you.

Now he’s a little worried. His leg bounces as he eats his breakfast, eyes focused on the hall doors before McGonagall once again gathers the champions and he’s off to the lake with Fleur and Krum. He notes that Harry isn’t there yet but that wasn’t where his focus was.

He stares into the lake, wondering where you are as his fingers dance across the yarn of your friendship bracelet made with the grace of a twelve-year-old boy.

He doesn’t catch when Harry arrives right before the task starts, his head snapping over to Bagman when his voice booms through his ears.

“Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One… two…three!” A whistle echoes through the cold air, quickly drowned out by the sound of cheering from the stands.

Cedric quickly uses a bubble charm before he dives into the icy water. He fights the urge to swim back up as his body shivers, fighting against the water as he swims aimlessly in the deep gray-lit water. Fish dart past him as he swims and he panics at the sight of an arm in his peripheral when he gets closer to the bottom of the lake. There’s no one else around him, though. He double-checks and then triple-checks. He can’t see anyone— no, he squints through his bubble and sees Harry. He’s spotting whatever they’re chasing and he swims in the same direction.

He fights through the wildlife and creatures that try to attack him, namely the grindylows emerging from the weeds. But his focus is more on what he’s approaching. There’s a statue of a merperson and attached to its tail are four bound people. Fleur’s sister, Ron, Hermione, and you. All of whom look to be sleeping, heads lax on your shoulders, and bubbles rising from your mouth with each breath.

He panics— blinking wildly at the sight because he’d been so worried something happened to you and this… this was crazy. What if he hadn’t known the charm? What would’ve happened if the merpeople had turned on you? What if he didn’t make it down within the hour time frame?

(We've taken what you’ll sorely miss— that’s what the clue had said. But past an hour, the prospects black. Too late, it’s gone. It won’t come back.)

You won’t come back to him if he’s late. You’re what he’ll sorely miss and he knows they’re right. He knows deep in his heart that taking you was like taking his oxygen, taking you would destroy him in ways he couldn’t— doesn’t want to— imagine.

Somehow Harry’s already there, arguing with merpeople who stop him from freeing everyone. He tells Harry to hurry, he knows Fleur and Krum are close behind him and as much as he wants to win he also doesn’t want Harry to get anything less than second place.

He pulls out a knife from his pocket and cuts through the ropes of weed. Once his knife drags all the way through, he grabs you by the waist and swims up. He doesn’t waste his time checking on Harry or the others. He only cares that he gets you up to the surface. That you wake up.

His head breaks through the surface of the water and the cold air stings his face as the bubble pops. Immediately his eyes check on you, the voices from the sounds nothing but noise until your eyes open and you cough up some of the lake water.

“Thank Merlin,” Cedric pants and drags himself to the edge, pushing you up before he pulls himself up to the bank as well.

“You won?” You chitter, the cold hitting you all at once. Someone hands the two of you thick blankets as Madam Pimfrey shoves a hot potion down your throats that wakes the two of you up a little bit.

“I thought you were dead,” He admits, opening his blanket to let you inside. You shake your head as you sit on a bench, head resting on his shoulder because despite having slept for hours, you’re quite tired still.

“Dumbledore bewitched us to sleep, last night McGonagall asked to see me. Thought she found out about me sneaking books out of the library,” You joke to try and lighten his clearly down mood. He hasn’t looked away from you since the moment he resurfaced, his heart hasn’t stopped hammering.

He never wants to experience worry like this ever again— even if in hindsight there was never any real danger. He blinks, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek as you stare at him, worried because he hasn’t said anything aside from that. Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? How he feels about you— about this? Surely that isn’t it.

Cedric is Hufflepuff’s golden boy. Truly he is Hogwarts' golden boy; he’s the kindest, most honest person to grace the infamous halls. He always has a smile on his face and he stands up for what he knows is right. But he’s afraid he hasn’t been entirely honest with you. His best friend.

He doesn’t know how to flat-out say he’s in love with you, that he has been since your fourth year.

“Cedric,” You whisper, wiping a tear from him. He’s been thinking so much that everyone has come back and he hasn’t noticed. Missed that Fleur didn’t finish the task and Harry had brought her sister up instead. “I wasn’t in danger, I’m alright.”

“I…” He blinks, holding your wrist. “I’m in love with you.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision!” Bagmen announces and you flinch but don’t look away from Cedric. Your eyes are wide and your heart thumping behind your ribcage. He doesn’t look away either, looking between your eyes.

“I have been for a while but I was… terrified seeing you down there,” He continues and you tune out Bagman until you hear Cedric’s name.

“Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour.” The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in the crowd cheer. “We therefore award him forty-seven points.”

“One minute off,” You whine, rolling your eyes. Cedric laughs, his forehead pressed against yours as the judges list off the remaining scores. Krum had gotten forty and Harry had gotten forty-five, putting Cedric in first place for the task and tied with Harry for first overall.

You smile at him as you tell him your findings. He just nods, his nose knocking into yours before you’re herded into the castle by Madam Pomfrey to get dry clothes. He holds your hand the whole way there, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

The two of you are put in separate rooms to change, as are the other champions and the hostages and it gives the two of you entirely too much silence and time to overthink.

Being in love with your best friend is difficult, especially if you’re queer. There’s the added layer of are they also queer? Because you know for a fact Cedric had real feelings for Cho, so he’s not gay. But there’s a plethora of things he could be… into you wasn’t one you really thought about, though. Even if you joke kissed that one time at a post-game party after a dare.

Being in love with your best friend and admitting it is crazy. Cedric spends the whole time getting changed worrying that he’s ruined everything. He’s sure he’s going to leave the room and you’re going to ignore him. That things are going to be different for all the wrong reasons but he couldn’t keep it a secret for another second. He just couldn’t. And he’s not sorry about that.

But, he’s pleasantly surprised when you’re waiting in front of the room he was changing in. Your back pressed to the wall with your hands behind you, staring at the floor until you heard the door opening. Standing up straight, you smile at Cedric and fix your jumper over your pants out of nervous habit.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” He carefully closes the door behind him while you look up and down the corridor. “Are you okay?”

“Mhmm… I just…” Staring at him, you shrug. “Do you want to go on a date next weekend? Madam Puddifoot’s Tea shop, maybe?” He smiles brightly and nods all the while you try and contain your own reaction. “Cool… well… they’re also having a celebration for you winning first place after dinner. Ravenclaw’s hosting, I’m supposed to bring you,”

“So we have three hours to plan our date?” He holds his hand out for you.

“I doubt we’ll need that much time,” You laugh, taking his hand. He just shrugs and guides you to where the two of you normally hang out. “Besides, I’m taking you. You don’t get to plan anything!”

“Fine,” He dramatically sighs.

—

By the third task, you’re still not an official couple. There’s no rush on putting a label just yet, you both agreed to it when a friend mentioned that for two people going on weekly dates, you two don’t seem any closer to dating.

Besides, there’s a tournament to win.

You settled in the stands of the Quidditch field which looked completely different with the twenty-foot tall hedges that ran all the way around the edge. You spot Cedric amongst the champions as he fiddles with his wand. He spots you, too, waving as you sit next to his father and mother. You’re unsure of why you’re allowed to sit in the family stands, but it’s all the same to Cedric— easier to spot the three most important people in his life, too.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Trizward Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each— Mr. Cedric Diggory, both of Hogwarts School!” You cheer along with the rest of Hogwarts, loud enough that the birds in the forest fly away from the harsh noise.

Harry and Cedric go in first and once they disappear, you can’t see them. There’s no magical broadcast and so, you’re left in the dark of what’s happening inside of the maze. So, you talk with his parents and then Ron’s family to pass the time.

You’re unsure of how much time passed before you see Harry slam into the ground with Cedric. Everyone cheers but you squint. Surely you’re seeing it wrong, right? That’s not what you’re seeing.

“Mr. Diggory…?”

“I see it, too,” He whispers and the two of you break into a sprint down the stands. By that point, Harry and Cedric are crowded by Fudge, Mad-Eye Moody, and Dumbledore as screams echo throughout the stands.

You make it there long before Mr. Diggory does, sliding on the grass once you're close enough to reach him. He’s laid there, eyes closed and body unmoving. He looks as though he’s in pain yet still as if that’s how he…

You cup his face, sobs bubbling through your chest and out your mouth, as he lies there. Your head shakes as you examine him and Harry keeps muttering something. An explanation, apologies— you don’t know. You can’t hear anything over your sobs and the shouts from Mr. Diggory. Cupping his face again, lay your head on his chest before you feel it.

…thump….thump thump….

You gasp and sit up, checking his neck before you cry out.

“He’s alive!” You choke, pulling him into your chest and rocking him back and forth. “He’s alive!” You declare as Mr. Diggory approaches, carefully, you set him back down so he can see for himself. He checks for himself as Dumbledore calls over Madam Pomfrey and he cheers, kissing Cedric’s head and holding his limp hand tightly in his.

—

The killing curse. That’s what Harry said. Voldemort or someone had used the killing curse on Cedric after they both grabbed the portkey. He was dead. Cedric was dead for over five minutes. They don’t know what happened but he was dead one second and alive the next. You didn’t care for answers, how could you when all you could hear was the fact that he was alive?

Sitting at his bedside, you stroke his hairline as he sleeps. A coma, alive but in a coma. It was better than dead, you keep reminding yourself when you find yourself frowning at his sleeping figure. Mr. Diggory allowed for him to remain at Hogwarts, he and his wife agreed that when Cedric wakes up, he should be somewhere he’s familiar with. He’ll want to see you as soon as possible.

It’s only been a week but they’ve visited him on the weekends. You think they’re staying in a nearby inn for the time being. He looks about the same, though. He doesn’t look ill or dead. Just asleep. The magic Madam Pomfrey and medical professionals use on him keeps him alive and thriving according to them. You try to learn about it when you can but your brain is mush half of the time. The other half is replaying how he looked when he was dead.

“Would you like to comb his hair?” A nurse asks and you nod, thanking her as you grab the comb and start gently working through his hair. You tell him about your day, about classes. About how he and Harry were declared the winners of the tournament. Harry declined the trophy altogether, insisting that it goes to Cedric instead.

You glance at it on his bedside table. You’re unsure of who brought it, probably Dumbledore or something. You describe it to him, how shiny it is. How it looks like a giant goblet and you’ll definitely pour some good booze in there as soon as you can. Celebrate with him.

A part of you waits for him to talk, to fill in the caps of silence but it doesn’t come. But you still talk. You talk about how there’s some new drama in your house. About how Cho keeps asking you if he’s okay. She wants to visit but she doesn’t know if she should. She doesn’t want to impose. You laugh and ask him if there’s someone you need to worry about.

He still doesn’t answer.

Setting the comb down, you stare at him for a while before checking the time. It’s nearly dinner time but you’re not hungry. You haven’t been for a week but you still eat. You guess skipping one dinner wouldn’t be so bad so you climb into the bed next to him and lay your head on his chest.

His heart is a steady rhythm under your ear, there’s a warmth to his body that makes you want to fall asleep faster and you do.

Sometime later, when visiting hours officially end, Madam Pomfrey goes to tell you it’s time but finds you fast asleep. She sighs and debates waking you up before she decides against it. She’s not cruel.

—

“And then Snape had the audacity to assign a mountain of homework,” You grumble as you angrily eat your lunch next to Cedric. It’s been two weeks of the coma, fourteen days of spending all of your free time in the infirmary, three hundred and thirty-six hours of not knowing if Cedric is going to wake up again. You know he is. He has to. You don’t just survive the killing curse only to die in a coma. He wouldn’t do that. You know it.

Rather frustratingly Hogwarts is currently split in two on the topic. There are those who think he won’t wake up and those who know he will. No one talks about it around you, though. They’re not that insensitive, you guess. You still hear it, of course, whispers travel far, and first years aren’t all that good at whispering.

You don’t care about either side. This isn’t some weird little bet like it was with Harry and Cedric. It was weird and you’ve been slowly dealing with it. Nothing harmful, not in a way they could prove, at least. It’s hard to trace back the sudden appearance of zits forming the words Prat on someone’s forehead.

“Our professors are still giving me those sad looks,” You admit, pushing the food around with the back of your fork. “It’s like I walk into a room and suddenly all they can think about is how I’m… here? I don’t know. But they keep asking me if I'm okay and that I should sleep more.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “They’re the ones giving us crazy amounts of homework. I don’t envy the work you’re gonna do when you wake up. But I’ll be here to help you study, of course.”

The doors open and you peek behind you, seeing his parents walking inside. They look how you feel but they smile as you look at each other. You wave as you stand up to give them space with their son.

“Ah, your folks are here. I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.” Squeezing his hand, you collect your stuff and leave for your dorm where you sleep until you’re woken up from your nightmare. From there, you sneak down to the infirmary and sit on the floor next to his bed.

It’s incredibly quiet inside of there. Only one other student is there for breaking a bone. She’ll be out in the morning. You find yourself hating her for that and have to stop yourself from getting angry at a thirteen-year-old for being able to walk around.

Madam Pomfrey catches you during her rounds and crosses her arms as you sheepishly smile at her. She sighs and motions you to lie down. You thank her as you lay next to Cedric but she doesn’t acknowledge it as she walks away.

—

The infirmary is cold, colder than you would’ve expected but it is starting to snow so you guess it’s to be expected. Thankfully, you’re wearing Cedric’s Hufflepuff sweater to keep you warm. It still smells like him, you don’t know why you expected it not to, but when you put it on you’re ashamed to admit you cried for nearly an hour.

“If this is payback for the second task,” You start, your voice wavering as you stare down at Cedric’s unmoving body. “It’s gone on entirely too long. Wake up, Cedric. Please,” Your voice cracks as you fall into the chair. Covering your mouth, you stare at him as he remains unmoving. You just want something, anything to prove that he’s not a husk of a person. Something other than his breathing. Maybe a cough. You’ll even take a wheeze. A sneeze. Anything.

“Merlin,” Looking away, you inhale and look back at him. “I’ll do anything you ask, promise! I’ll eat those nasty snacks you like that taste like puke. I’ll drink cold tea for a year! I’ll… it doesn’t matter what you ask as long as you wake up!” But he doesn’t move. He hasn’t moved since they set him on that fucking cot. He doesn’t stir, he doesn’t snore. He just lays there and you’re expected to be happy that he is. That the only sign he’s alive is his shallow breathing and his chest rising.

A nurse walks in for his daily medication and you don’t watch as she makes him drink it. You just hold his hand, playing with his growing nails before quietly asking for a nail clipper. He doesn’t like them long, they poke him. It also gets caught on his clothes, so he keeps them pretty low.

“Y’know what? I’m gonna paint your nails if you don’t wake up,” You decide as you’re clipping his nails. “Yup. Neon pink and green. So, you better wake up soon.” Dusting his nails off, you look at him for a sign that he’s listening. Any sign, really. But there’s none and you quietly sigh before climbing into bed next to him.

Looking up at him, you kiss his shoulder before tucking your head into his chest. It’s not dinner yet, it’s barely even lunch but you don’t want to be awake right now. You’re tired of the reminders, tired of looking at him in the white bed under the white blanket. You miss his smile and laugh that you can only see in your dreams now.

—

“I got detention for a week,” You angrily admit as you toss yourself onto the chair next to him. It’s been four weeks of him being in a coma. His hair has grown a bit, you didn’t notice until recently. “They were going to give me longer but said because of my situation it’ll only be a week.” You use air quotes as you say ‘situation’, angrily looking around as though someone was going to agree with you.

“Bloody Malfoy running his fucking mouth about you. Laughing with his little mates who have their tongues down his throat, his little lap dogs without a fucking brain! Talkin’ about you being a lost cause and a…” You stop as you find yourself getting angry again. “I knocked him out. He’s awake now, I wasn’t allowed in here until he left.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You need to calm down. Talk to him about something happier. Talk about the positives of your day.

“My parents wrote, they wish you well. They invited you and your folks over during break and said they can’t wait to see you again. Can’t wait for you to meet Tate’s little puppies. They’re the cutest and maybe your dad would let you guys keep one,” You smile at the nurse as she brings over a comb and brush. Quietly, you thank her before moving your chair closer to the bed.

“I’m not sure if you noticed but they upgraded your cot. It’s roughly the size of your dorm bed; I think they did that ‘cause I keep sleeping here.” It’s been nearly every night that you spend down in the infirmary. Students who come and go with their own injuries have mentioned it to their peers. Apparently, you cry in your sleep and it keeps them up. Although no one is blaming you for that, they’re mostly just pitying you at this point.

Combing through his hair with the brown wine tooth comb, you give Cedric his usual hairstyle and smile down at him.

“I reckon this length looks good on you, hopefully, you don’t cut it. I quite like it,” Gently brushing his hair away from his face, your lip wobbles and you force yourself to look away. “I have class but I’ll be back, I promise.”

—

Six weeks. A month and two weeks. More days than you care to admit.

He’s doing better, according to the doctor who visits on Mondays. She said he should wake up soon but she didn’t give an estimate. Soon could be a year, apparently.

Unfortunately, today has been exceptionally rough. Snake’s been a larger prick, you tanked your history quiz, you overslept and missed your whole first period, and worst of all, you waited a whole thirty minutes at your usual spot waiting for Cedric before you remembered.

Wiping your eyes with your hands, you pull your legs up to the frame of his bed and lay your head on your thighs.

“I’ve been looking for spells to get in your head,” You admit through quiet sobs. “Maybe then we could talk. I miss your voice. I miss you so much. It’s getting harder and I’m not blaming you. I know this is a good outcome, I know I should be grateful you weren’t left in that cemetery to rot. I know I should be jumping for joy because you’re alive but it doesn’t feel like it. I feel like I’m losing you.” Blinking down to the floor, you chew on your bottom lip.

“Break is coming soon. They’re going to transfer you during it, so you’re not alone. I don’t know if they’ll let me sleep over still. You’ll be so far from me, too. Five hours by car, I checked. I’m sorry if I sound selfish, I keep talking about me. But I don’t know… how to talk to you right now.” Looking at him, you reach over and grab his hand.

“If you want to… go… you can. I don’t know if you’re in pain or something. I just want you to feel better, even if it means you’ll be gone.” Blinking rapidly, you tuck your head back between your legs and cry. You don’t know how long you’ve sat there like that but you get startled at the feeling of his limp hang gripping yours.

It’s not tight but you know it’s there as you look at him. His eyes are open, just barely but they’re open. You shudder at the sight, nearly falling from your chair.

“Cedric,” You whisper and he cracks a smile. “Oh Godric,” Smiling, you squeeze his hand before hugging him. Smiling into his neck, you feel him start to hug you back.

“That’s my name,” He mutters, voice dry and hoarse but it’s his. Madam Pomfrey walks over for her rounds and gasps at the sight of the two of you before rushing to send for his doctors. Slowly, you pull away and look at him. “Is there water?” Nodding, you reach over and grab your bottle from the table before giving it to him.

He struggles to sit up, giving you a pleading look and you prop him up without question. You help him drink, too, trying not to cry because he’s sitting up. He’s not laying down anymore and his eyes are open.

He’s awake and alive.

“What did I miss?” He asks.

“I spent six weeks giving you updates and you didn’t hear a single word?” You snort. “Of course,”

“Six weeks?” He echos and you slowly nod. “What happened?”

“Short story; you died and came back but you were in a coma. The long story is for later. When you’re back to normal. But you won the tournament! Uh, your parents have the trophy but I don’t doubt they’ll be here soon. They’ve come every Saturday and Sunday,”

“They do?”

“Mhmm, I left the three of you alone so I don’t know what you guys talked about.” Silence falls over the room as the two of you stare at each other.

“Were you crying?” He softly asks and you shake your head.

“Allergies, I decided playing with a cat was better than being able to breathe properly,” You lie and he doesn’t believe you but lets it slide and pats the bed. Sitting back down, he pulls you down and strokes the top of your head. Sighing with content, you look up at him and smile. ,

“I love you,” He kisses the top of your head before he speaks.

“I love you, too.” He waits for a second. “Does this mean we’re dating?”

“Yes, dork, it does,” You snort and he frowns, complaining that you’re being mean to him after he just woke up.

“Wait,” He shifts a little and you hum. “Why are my nails pink and green?”

#x male reader #x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x male reader #ravenclaw reader #harry potter fanfiction

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