#tonight i’m going through them all lol seeing which is the best

[thesingingrevolution]

everyone!!! i found someone on twitter who has a fancall with winwin sometime in the next week or so and they’ve said they would like to make a compilation of messages from fans to show him! if you would like to share a sweet message with him, you can check the info on this post and send them a dm with your picture 🩷

[coquitokisses]

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

[storiesofsvu]

City Views

Rafael Barba x reader warnings: language, smut, oral, a form of cock warming i guess? lol, dirty talking, cum shot. requested: yup. can't remember who lol. Havent written for Barba or watched his eps in a while so hopefully this isn’t ooc.

Rafael was in his home office later than he had originally planned, one thing simply turned into another and another and another, the next thing he knew the small pile of paperwork had become a mountain. Normally this was just a minor frustration, but tonight was supposed to be date night.

When you’d first gotten home you’d checked in, leaving a kiss on the top of his head, asking how long he thought he would be. An hour and a half later and you were back, sliding a glass of scotch onto his desk with a small sigh and a raised brow that silently asked when he was going to close up shop. An hour after that you’d given up hope for stage one, wandering back into the office to place a take out container on his desk, making sure that he at least ate. Every intrusion pulled his focus, causing him to lose his train of thought and have to start all over again, even if you didn’t actually say anything. Which is why when the door creaked open again he let out a huff, his pen lifting up off the paper as he started to speak.

“If you interrupt me one more time so help me god I will—” He completely forgot how to speak when his eyes moved from the paper in front of him to the doorway and his mouth practically started to water.

You’d changed out of your clothes, a simple yet stunning black lace three piece set hugging your skin perfectly, adorned with light pink flowers, though the kicker was Rafael’s favourite shirt draped over your shoulders, hanging open in the front so he could get a glimpse of the lingerie. You let out a small chuckle, sauntering through the room up to the side of his desk and your fingers curled under his chin, closing his mouth.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“I...” he started, gulping as his eye swept over your body, lingering on the swell of your chest and you smiled.

“See something you like?”

“I most certainly do.” His hands came to grip your hips, tugging you towards him as they slid up your sides, spreading warmth across your skin, “querida you look amazing, but you know I have to finish this.”

“No one said anything about you stopping.” With a smirk you sunk to your knees, hands spreading his legs so you could settle between them, “I’m sure I can find something to keep me occupied.”

“Christ.” Muttering, he shook his head at you, nudging you backwards slightly so his chair was closer to the desk and he picked up his pen again.

Only a moment later your hands were softly rubbing up and down the inside of his thighs, squeezing every so often and every time he glanced down he had a perfect view of your cleavage, pushed up by the fancy bra, your nipples nearly peaking over the top of the lace. He took a deep breath, feeling himself twitching in his pants already and did his best to focus on the work in front of him.

Your hands continued to rub up his thighs, one of them coming even higher to palm at his cock through his pants and he let out a groan, unable to control his hips rocking toward the touch. You continued to grope him, smirking at the feeling of him starting to get hard, knowing just what kind of an affect you were having on him. Your hands reached up to his belt, undoing the buckle before slipping into his pants, pulling them down a few inches to pull his cock out and he let out a hiss.

You spat into your hand before wrapping it around him, beginning to lazily stroke, letting out a needy whine as he got hard, twitching in your hand. Above you he let out a soft sigh, his eyes briefly closing, fingers clenching around his pen before he attempted to shake out of it.

“You like that?” You asked, a smirk in your voice as your hand tightened around him, squeezing ever so softly and a drop of pre-cum began to leak out of his tip.

“You know I do.” He groaned, hips rocking toward you, thrusting his cock further into your hand.

“If this is too distracting I could always just play with myself…” You teased, your hand leaving him and trailing down your own body. You barely got it to the waist of your panties before Rafael let out a low growl, catching your other wrist in his hand, tugging you closer to him.

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head, “you know better than that.”

Grinning, you leant forward on your knees, your hands braced on his upper thighs and your tongue darted out to wet your lips, “you want me to suck your cock while you work? Keep you nice and warm and hard until you’re finally ready to fuck me?” You licked a broad stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip, flicking it, lapping up the pre-cum as you did so and he twitched again, “stretch my pussy out, fuck me nice and deep, filling me up completely.” Your words were accented by kisses along his shaft, sucking at the sensitive skin, “I’m wet already just thinking about it.”

Rafael’s free hand tangled into your hair, redirecting your mouth so he could drive his cock between your lips, “then get to work.”

“Mmmhm.” You mumbled back, slowing sinking down on his cock until the tip of it hit the back of your throat.

You held yourself there, tongue drawing patterns across his cock, tracing the veins as you moaned around him, sucking him deeper into your mouth, feeling him throb. You hollowed your cheeks, relaxing your throat so he could press even further into you. You could hear the scratching of his pen as he scribbled through whatever he was working on, but you could also hear that his breathing was getting laboured. Rafael began to shift uncomfortably in his seat, your mouth incredibly warm and wet around him, holding him there, tickling at his cock with your tongue. He twitched inside your mouth, letting out a quiet swear when you moaned around him, the vibration enough to make him stall in his words. You could feel the drool pooling in the corners of your mouth beginning to leak out of your lips, smearing around the base of his cock and you finally pulled off, taking a gasping breath.

Your hand replaced your lips, stroking up and down his length while your mouth moved down to his balls, sucking them into your mouth, your tongue toying with them. A groan left your lips as you rubbed your thighs together, pussy pulsing around nothing, eager for Rafael’s cock to fill you up. Your mouth slipped off his balls, a string of drool connecting the base of his cock to your lips and you glanced up at him with a smirk when you felt his eyes on you.

“God you’re so pretty like this…” he mumbled, his hand caressing your cheek gently, thumb tracing the outline of your lips and you were quick to suck it into your mouth. “Such a good little cock sucker.”

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth, causing you to chase after it, your lips landing on the head of his cock when he wrapped his hand around it, redirecting it into your mouth before his hand moved to the back of your head. He guided you up and down, pressing ever so lightly on your head when you deep throated him, setting up a languid pace for you to bob on his cock. As relaxed as you were, you weren’t afraid to start to make a bit of a mess, spit slicking his length, coating your lips, smearing across the crotch of his pants, a bit of drool dripping down your chin.

Rafael could feel his heart racing in his chest, the sounds coming from below him were driving him absolutely wild and he knew by the way you’d began rocking your hips in time with your bobbing that your pussy was completely drenched. His writing was getting sloppier and he knew he was going to have trouble reading it in the morning, but the thoughts of work were slowing slipping from his mind as the only thing he began to worry about was the feeling of you choking on his dick. He managed another sentence before tossing down his pen and letting out a louder moan, leaning back into his chair and closing his eyes.

You pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, a small giggle escaping your wet lips, “finished?”

“Something else came up.” He muttered, smirking down at you and you chuckled, still stroking him.

“Certainly did.” With a wink you wrapped your lips around his cock again, picking up the pace as his hips began to rock up to meet your mouth, hands tangling into your hair again. You took him as deep as you could, hands massaging his balls and he grunted, throbbing in your mouth before he finally pulled you off, leaving you panting.

“If you keep that up you’re gonna make me come.” His hands slid down to your shoulders, yanking you up and into his lap, where his hand found its way between your legs, cupping your heat, “and considering you’ve ruined these panties it would be a waste to not feel that gorgeous pussy.”

With a quick smirk Rafael leant in, catching your lips in a kiss, groaning over the taste of himself in your mouth as your tongues quickly started rolling against one another. His arms wound around you, holding you close as he stood up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You couldn’t resist grinding your clothed cunt against his hard on, your panties dampening from both sides now. He crossed the room to the couch across from his desk, gently dropping you onto it.

“Why don’t you get rid of that excuse for underwear?” He asked, his hands making quick work of his shirt, letting it drop to the floor behind him.

Your hands reached up behind your, un clasping the bra and tossing it aside, “you could just pull them to the side?”

“God you’re feeling dirty tonight, aren’t you?” Rafael grinned, stepping toward you so he could cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you let out a happy sigh that morphed into a moan when he pinched at them, gripping the flesh harder.

“Got bored,” your eyes fluttered shut as he continued to play with your tits, “watched a few videos…”

“And were you touching yourself?”

“Only over my panties.”

“Good girl.” His hands left your chest, one cupping your cheek to direct you into a kiss before he shoved his pants down, “now get up on your knees and turn around.”

You eagerly did as asked, bracing yourself on the back of the couch and sticking your ass out as Rafael dimmed the lights in the room, making the view through the darkened window come a little more to life. Stories above the city streets below, the skyline full of sparkling lights, night sky twinkling with stars, you were high enough there was a very little chance of anyone seeing you, but the thrill was still there and sent shivers through your body. Rafael’s hands soothed up your thighs, pulling your cheeks apart before his fingers slipped into your thong, pulling it off to the side to expose your glistening pussy.

“God you’re just fucking drenched.” He muttered, bending over you to swipe his tongue through your folds, pulling a gasp from your lips as he sucked on your cunt for a moment, growling at the taste of your juices. “Always so sweet querida.” Two of his fingers easily sunk into you and you couldn’t help but push back onto them, whining as your eyes fluttered shut and he chuckled, “and already ready for me… you really are needy tonight.”

“Raf.. please…” Your head fell forward onto your forearms, practically panting in need as his fingers danced across your body, a feather light touch on your skin that left fire in its tracks.

“God you’re so hot when you beg.” He replied, hand wrapping around his cock as he guided it your leaking cunt.

He rutted against you, cock sliding through your folds, smearing your juices all along it and you let out a long moan, body shaking as wetness leaked out of you. It wasn’t a want, it was a need, your pussy absolutely throbbing, your clit swollen and sensitive, twitching every time his dick rubbed past it. He finally gave you some relief when the head of his cock nudged at your cunt and your body relaxed, a sigh escaping your lips as he sunk deeper into your heat inch by inch.

“Fuck…” You groaned, pushing your hips back toward him, making sure every inch of him was fully seated inside your throbbing cunt.

“You’re squeezing me so tight already, shit.”

Rafael braced his hands on your hips, starting to pull his cock out until only the tip was left inside you before he sunk all the way in again, moaning right along with you. You were perfect, pussy fitting him like a fucking glove, pulsing around him like heaven, just the way he craved, the way he loved. He couldn’t help but set a steady pace, knowing you were both so riled up already he didn’t want to waste time but also didn’t want to come instantly. Each thrust of his hips were met with a little squeak or whimper from you, the harder ones earned moans, soft swears, his name tumbling from your lips like a sweet prayer.

“S-so good.” You groaned out, gripping the back of the couch harder when Rafael circled his hips, cock hitting every spot of your walls.

“Take me so well.” He husked, picking up the pace, a hand sliding up your back until it tangled into the roots of your hair, tugging your head up so you could see the faint reflection in the dark window.

“Fuck…”

“Like that don’t you?” He chuckled, “bet you wish they could see how you take my cock, hmm? How messy this little pussy is? God you’re dripping down your thighs that’s how much you like the way I fuck you, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.” You managed out, a strangled moan breaking free from your throat, “ ‘m close…so close…”

Rafael knew what you were begging for, and he knew he wasn’t far behind you, hand winding around you to find your clit, pads of his fingers rubbing at it, pressing harder with each circle. You were slick with wetness, clit hard and throbbing under his fingers while your pussy pulsed around his cock, juices coating it, squelching noises and the sound of skin on skin bouncing off the walls of the room.

“Come for me querida, come all over my cock.” He grunted, feeling himself throb inside you, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm, stuttering against yours as you cried out, pussy clamping down around him as your juices dribbled out, leaking down your thighs.

“Fuck!”

It was only a second later that he groaned, his hips hitting yours, cock deep inside your cunt as his cum shot out of him, coating your walls and you let out another whimper at the sensation. He squeezed at the base of his dick, making sure to fill you with as much cum as he could, your pussy milking every last drop out of him. He dropped his torso over yours, holding you flush to him as he panted, messy kisses pressed to the back of your shoulders as your bodies trembled together.

“Oh my god…” He mumbled and you laughed softly, shifting to collapse to the couch underneath him, whining when his cock slipped from you.

“Still mad about the interrupting?” You asked with a smirk as you rolled over and it was his turn to laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

_____________________

@fandom-princess-forevermore @thatesqcrush @alexusonfire @bisexualcrowley @detective-giggles @plaidbooks @averyhotchner @beccabarba @permanentlydizzy @prurientpuddlejumper @letsdisneythings @neely1177 @mrsrafaelbarba @lv7867 @bisexual-dreamer02 @skittle479 @amelia-song-pond @madamsnape921 @altsvu @svulife-rl @caracalwithchips @mysticfalls01 @ssaic-jareau @barbasbodaciousbeard @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @michael-rooker @rafivadafreddy @darkheart-brightsmile @australiancarisi @ex-uallyactive @lawandorderuswnt @lustvolle-liebe @sia2raw @narvaldetierra @lannister-slings-and-arrows @poisonedcrowns @anlin2058 @xoxabs88xox @momlifebehard @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @godard-muse @somethingimaginative17 @alexxavicry @dextur @onmykneesformarvel @kmc1989 @valentinesfrog @silversprings-mp3 @wittygutsy

[gothamite-rambler]

The batgirls on their periods

My period is on and I've always wanted to write a story about that, but Winx Club wasn't something that felt the best for this outlet. Batfamily does work though because they're humans lol.

We go through out periods in different ways. The are the batgirls and batwoman are expys of that and this is how the male members of their family handle it. This is for all my girlie pops that have to deal with this curse. Let's dive in!

Dick Grayson: Hey Barb, you sent me this weird irate text, did I do something wrong?

Barbara Gordon (angry): Yes, remember that triple chocolate cake I had leftover? You better buy me a new one!

Barbara rolls over the man’s foot on purpose.

Dick: Ow, you said I could have it.

Barbara: Lies! Get me a new one or I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day and that’s including comms tonight!

Dick: Okay, I’ll do that after icing my foot. Freaking jerk.

Barbara rolls away grumbling under her breath.

Tim Drake (having silently watched the arguing): Have the girls been acting… on edge lately?

Dick: I hadn't noticed until my foot was ran over. What have you seen?

Tim: Stephanie has been eerily quiet and distant today. Which is not like her. Bruce asked her if she wanted to patrol a different part of Gotham and she just growled at him.

Dick: Hm... that is odd.

Stephanie Brown enters the kitchen, wearing an oversized shirt and jogger pants. She grunts a greeting to the two men. She takes a bag of carrots and a bar of chocolate out of the fridge.

Stephanie: I’m watching cat videos, don’t bother me. Oh, by the by, tell Bruce I will do the other part of town today.

Tim: Got it, bestie.

Stephanie grunts and leaves.

Tim: She hasn’t snapped at me too much.

Dick: Hm… wait… hold on… this isn’t the time is it?

Tim: Time for what?

Dick: We may be in the clear if Cass doesn’t have it.

Tim (confused): Have what?

Dick: You poor summer child.

Meanwhile Jason hears a knock at his door. He answers and sees Cassandra Cain standing there, frazzled.

Cass: Hi Jason.

Jason Todd: Hey Cass, everything okay, you look stressed?

Cass (bashfully): Do I? Yeah, um, my… Aunt Flo is visiting and I… I need to go to the store to buy supplies... I do not want to go in alone; you’re the only one I trust.

Jason: You don’t have an Aunt Flo and why would you need supplies to meet her?

Cass: Oh… oh dear, you don't get it. Um… my crimson tide… has arrived?

Jason: Crimson what?

Cass (pissed off): My period is on! It’s my time of the month! I need to buy tampons or pads before I bleed any-

Jason (covers her mouth): All right, got it... the message is in my head. Okay sure, I’ll get my keys.

Cass: Wait, you’re not… this isn’t strange to you?

Jason: I’m friends with Artemis. I’m used to this. Let’s get some supplies.

Cass claps eagerly.

…

Dick (calling Bruce): Bruce are the girls on their periods?

Tim: Oh that's what it is!

Dick: Jesus Christ, Tim.

Bruce: Hm... that’s why Stephanie snapped at me and that’s why Barbara cussed me out… I’m a little too used that. Then yes they are. Cass probably is too. Women can sync up sometimes.

Tim: How does he… Bruce how do you know this?

Bruce: Selina is very informative… and Harley is as well. So you learn a thing or two. Go easy on them and they won’t bite your head off. You didn’t do anything to piss them off have you?

Dick (ice pack on his foot): Nope.

Tim: I have no.t so I’m doing good.

Bruce: Okay, well like I said don’t do anything else stupid, Dick.

Dick: I will try not to.

With that Bruce ends the call. He sighs and looks at his cousin Kate aka Batwoman.

Bruce: And then there's you.

Kate: Yeah, you’re just going to ignore me? No mention of the four way sync up?

Bruce: I’m ignoring a lot currently. I am a master at many things, women syncing menstrual cycles is not one of them.

Kate (agreeing): Trust me, women don’t get it either.

Bruce: Let’s get you your period stuff at least.

Kate: Could you not call it that?

Bruce: Could you actually be prepared next time?

Kate: Ooh, catty? Maybe you’re on your month as well.

Bruce (chuckles dryly): You’re so funny let me tell ya.

Kate: I cope with humor. Get out of the car, cuzzo. Oh you’re also buying me lunch today.

Bruce: Of course, I am. Part 2

[itneverendshere]

lovee bartender!reader and rafe soo much, theyre daydream content fr!!! <3 if it takes your fancy, maybe a little piece where readers tired so she puts her pride away and does go to rafe for help (even if only for something very small) and hes just elated, ecstatic, all the words for it! that man is always so stressed, need him to have some peace LOL

she eventually becomes a little less headstrong about his help so this when she finally really understands that’s is okay to need someone else sometimes 🙂‍↕️🫂 thank you for the request! and also thank you for loving them too 🫶🏻

year dark night and now i see daylight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You wiped down the bar for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

The lights glinted off the glasses, making you squint. You were so tired. Your legs felt like they would give out at any moment, and the tension in your shoulders was making your neck ache, but there was no time to stop. 

There was never any time to stop.

You’d been running on fumes for days now—maybe weeks?—but who was counting? Not you, clearly. Because taking a break or slowing down?

That just wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were fine. You could handle it. You always handled it. You didn’t need help.

The headache you’d been ignoring was getting worse, though, creeping behind your eyes, making you blink more than usual. Your hands were shaky, and if you were being honest with yourself (which you rarely were these days), your body was running on empty. But still, there was work to do, and people needed drinks, and you weren’t about to let anyone think you couldn’t do your job.

You paused, gripping the edge of the bar a little tighter than necessary when the room seemed to tilt, just for a second. That was new. You sucked in a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. 

Nope. Not now. Can’t do this here. 

There was no way you were going to break down in the middle of your shift, in front of everyone. You’d tough it out like you always did.

“Hey!” Your co-worker voice cut through the pain, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was waving you over to another table where more customers had just sat down.

Perfect. More people. Just what you needed.

You forced your feet to move, pushing through the exhaustion as best you could. 

You felt that familiar wave of anxiety, your new best friend, but you shoved it down like always.

You could handle it. You had to. Because asking for help? Letting someone see you weren’t doing okay? That was never an option. Except…maybe this time, it was.

You hesitated behind the bar, staring blankly at the group that had just sat down. They could wait a minute, right? Just one minute to pull yourself together. You’d earned that, at least.

Before you knew it, your phone was in your hand, thumb hovering over one name in your contacts: Rafe.

You hated asking for help. He worried about you enough as it was, constantly telling you to slow down or take it easy. You usually brushed him off. But tonight…tonight felt different. You were running on nothing but pride and stubbornness at this point, and even that was starting to crack.

Swallowing hard, you hit Call.

It rang twice before you heard his voice. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” Rafe sounded surprised—probably because you never called him when you were working. You could hear the concern creeping in already.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating how vulnerable you felt just by calling him. “Can you—uh, can you come pick me up? I’m kinda…done.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end, like he was processing the fact that you, of all people, were asking for help. When he spoke again, his voice was almost relieved. “Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, the tight knot in your chest loosening just a little.

Hanging up, you slumped against the counter, finally letting yourself breathe. Ten minutes. You could make it ten more minutes.

Rafe arrived faster than you expected, his tall frame pushing through the double doors of the club. His eyes locked onto you immediately, and the second he saw you, his tough guy expression dropped. You didn’t realize how close you were to falling apart until you saw the way he was looking at you. 

“You okay?” he asked, crossing the bar in a few quick strides, his hand already reaching for yours.

For once, you didn’t brush him off with a quick “I’m fine.” You just shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “Not really.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in that way that made you feel safe, like it was okay to just not be strong for a second. You hadn’t noticed how badly you needed this—how badly you needed him—until now. Rafe’s chin rested against the top of your head, and you could feel his heart beating under your cheek.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t let go right away, his blue eyes searching your face. His brow furrowed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing softly along your cheek. You must’ve looked worse than you thought because the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

“You really weren’t kidding about being done, huh?” His voice was gentle, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. Not at you, but at the fact that you’d been pushing yourself this hard without saying anything sooner.

You gave him a weak smile, trying to shrug it off. “Yeah, I guess I went a little overboard this week. But I’m fine now. You’re here.”

He sighed, shaking his head but pulling you closer again, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, “You’re gonna give me a heart-attack before thirty.”

You bit your lip, that familiar guilt settling in your chest. You knew he was right. You knew he worried all the time, every single day. But admitting you needed help—especially to him—took a lot of energy, like ripping away the last bit of control you had. And control was how you survived. How you kept everything in check.

He wasn’t going to think less of you for it. If anything, he looked elated that you’d let him in, that you trusted him enough to ask. You nodded, feeling the tears start to prick the back of your eyes. “I know. I just—” You broke off, not really knowing how to explain it. “I keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“I got you,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you home.”

The quiet of the truck felt like a much-needed break from everything, the engine lulling you into something close to sleep. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until now, with the night air coming through the window and Rafe’s hand resting on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You leaned your head back against the seat, watching the headlights of passing cars flash by. It felt weird to not be constantly thinking about what came next, what else needed to get done, or how much work you still had to finish. For once, it was like your brain was actually giving you a break, like it was saying, “Yeah, okay, you can relax now. You’re not alone.”

You glanced over at Rafe, his jaw set in concentration as he drove, but the way his fingers held onto you so gently told you everything. He hadn’t said much since you left the club, but you didn’t need him to.

“Are you hungry?” 

You blinked, realizing you hadn’t even thought about food. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry or just exhausted. “Not really,” you admitted. “I just wanna get home.”

Rafe nodded, giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Okay. Almost there.”

You let out a breath, grateful that he didn’t push. He never did. It was one of the reasons being with him felt so easy, even when everything else in your life felt overwhelming. He never tried to fix things for you, never made you feel like you were weak for needing help. He just showed up—every time.

The minutes passed, and before you knew it, you were pulling up to his place. The sight of his house—your second home at this point—made your anxiety loosen even more. You didn’t have to do anything here. No one needed you to be “on.” You could just…exist.

“You good?” he asked, offering his hand to help you out.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you mumbled, though your body still felt like it might give out if you let yourself relax too much. You took his hand anyway, letting him help you down.

Once you were inside, you kicked off your shoes and practically collapsed onto the couch, feeling the cushions sink under you like they were the softest thing in the world. You pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them as Rafe moved around the room, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over you before sitting down next to you, close but not smothering.

He knew exactly how to handle you—how to be there without overwhelming you. He just sat there, his arm slung over the back of the couch, waiting for you to speak or not speak, whatever you needed. And that’s when it hit you how lucky you were to have him.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, not really sure why the words came out, but feeling like you had to say something.

Rafe frowned, his hand brushing over your shoulder. “For what?”

“For… I don’t know. For not telling you sooner that I was struggling. For always acting like I can handle everything when I clearly can’t.”

He shook his head, giving you that soft smile that made you feel like the most important person in the world. “You don’t have to apologize for that, baby. I know you. You you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

You bit your lip, “I just don’t want to feel like I’m dumping all my shit on you.”

Rafe leaned in a little closer, his hand now resting on your knee. “You’re not dumping anything on me. We’re in this together. I love you, and I want to be there for you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but this time it wasn’t from stress. It was from the realization that he was right.

He’d always been right and you knew it, it just took you months to process it.

You exhaled, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling more powerful now, more real.

Because this wasn’t just love. This was trust.

He kissed the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair as he pulled you closer. He wasn’t frustrated or upset. He was just there, in that patient way that made you fall for him in the first place.

"You’re really too good to me, you know that?" you said softly, tracing your finger over the back of his hand.

He shook his head. “Nah, you deserve it. Besides, it’s not like you make it easy for me to help.”

He said it teasingly, but there was truth in his words. You knew you had a habit of trying to do everything on your own, shutting people out when you felt overwhelmed.

You looked down, feeling a little sheepish. "Yeah, I know. I’m working on it."

"Hey," he said, gently tilting your chin up so you were looking at him again. "I’m kidding. I’m here for you, okay?”

Your heart did that little flip thing it always did when he said stuff like that, like you couldn’t believe someone could love you that much, but at the same time, you knew it was true. 

“If I mess up again, just remind me that you said I don’t have to be perfect."

He chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “You know, you’re probably gonna fall asleep on me right here.”

You smiled, your eyes already half-closed. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

You knew he was grinning without looking, feeling it he leaned down to kiss the top of your head again.

“Okay, but you’re definitely not getting out of taking care of yourself tomorrow. I’m making you pancakes in the morning. You’re eating, and you’re not gonna fight me on it.”

“Mmm, pancakes sound good,” you mumbled, already feeling the pull of sleep creeping in. “But only if you make the chocolate chip ones.”

“Deal.”

Wrapped up in his arms, the world outside of this little bubble didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore

[dorkydiaz]

CAN I GO WHERE YOU GO? 920 words | bucktommy | 7x06 coda a/n: look it me! i wrote something :P just a soft little thing that i couldn't stop thinking about <3 idek how long it has been since i published something episode related lol so be kind and gentle if you please<3 title is kinda just what fit best lol, enjoy!

Buck twirls his niece around as music plays quietly over a speaker, barely loud enough to hear over the quiet chatter. He swings her up and deposits her next to her newly-wed parents, and they look perfect. Buck remembers the reception of her first wedding, his cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling then, they do now, and by the looks of it so do Maddie’s. 

“You might want to–” she points toward the chair in the corner that holds his beast of a boyfriend, a bottled water coming dangerously close to slipping from his exhaustion-induced slack grip. 

“I should get him home, the adrenaline has worn off. I love you both so much, and you,” he ruffles Jee’s hair and leans in for a group hug, placing a kiss in his sister's hair. If he thinks too hard about everything he might cry, so he leaves unsaid and squeezes her tight hoping she understands. 

He takes the water bottle from Tommy’s hands and stands between his legs, gently cupping his cheek, “Hey, you are exhausted, let’s get you home. I’ll drive you.” 

And Tommy looks up at him through his eyelashes– how had Buck not noticed those before now? 

“You don’t have to– you should stay here. I’m sure Maddie–” 

“What she wants is for me to get you home safely, and visiting hours are almost over anyway.”

He can see Tommy trying to come up with a rebuttal, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something and then gives up.

Buck grabs Tommy’s turnout coat from the back of the chair, folding it over his arm and taking Tommy’s hand in his. 

“Congratulations again you two,” Tommy says as enthusiastically as he can before they turn toward the door.

—

Buck is awkwardly sitting at a table in the common area of Harbor. It feels weird to be in another station without his reason for being there within sight. Tommy had assured him that it was okay for him to sit, and if anyone gave him trouble to tell them that he was there with him. 

“Buckley! What are you doing here?” a familiar voice nearly makes him jump out of his seat. 

“Lu-Lucy! Hi.” 

She stands behind the chair across from him, leaning on her elbows on the top of the chair. And she actually waits for him to answer. 

“I-I’m waiting for Tommy. Had to swing by to drop off his turnouts and get his bag.”

Her brow crinkles a little and she cocks her head, “his shift ended hours ago?” 

“He uhhh, he came to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. He’s pretty exhausted so I’m driving him home.” 

“He went to a wedding after that fire? In his turnouts?”

“It was at the hospital, wild story really. And I asked him to be there, so he was.” he blushes a little as he watches her do a little math. 

“Donato! Are you bullying Evan?” Buck can hear the smile on Tommy’s lips as he feels his hand land on his shoulder. He looks up at his boyfriend, and Tommy leans down, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. He looks a little brighter after rinsing off in the station showers and changing back into his Henley. 

“I was wondering why you had table privileges,” she smiles. “So, Chim finally got hitched huh, tell him and Maddie congrats for me.”

“Will do,” Buck smiles at her, and she walks away toward what he assumes is the snack cabinet. “Let’s get out of here and you into bed huh?” 

“You read my mind.” 

—

There’s a stillness in the car as they sit in Tommy’s driveway. 

“Evan, come inside. You’ve had a long stressful day too.” 

It’s like Tommy is inside his head, he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not when he didn’t have to be. 

“And if the texts you sent me last night are any indication, you also did it all while hungover which I’m sure wasn’t all that pleasant. And, besides, you still owe me at least one dance.” 

“You are practically falling asleep sitting up and you want to dance?” 

“It’s what I was promised.” 

TOmmy reaches over the console between them, turning Buck’s face toward him, leans in and kisses him in earnest. Not quite as intense as their greeting earlier and not as gentle as their first. “Just come inside please,” he says just above a whisper against his lips. 

“Okay.” 

—

Buck takes in Tommy’s little house, it’s cozy with some of its years showing. 

“You can move past the entryway Evan. Just take your shoes off.” 

“Oh,” he replies softly, barely having noticed that he was slightly frozen. He toes off his shoes.

“C’mere,” Tommy holds out his hand, a song that Buck doesn’t know the name of softly drifting from the speakers. He lands in his boyfriend’s arms and it feels like it’s exactly where he is supposed to be. One hand on his neck, the other clasped together in Tommy’s, his other hand resting on his waist. It’s mostly quiet as they sway in the middle of the small living room. 

“You know, I never really got the whole hot firefighter thing until I saw you walk through those doors?” 

“You really are adorable.” Tommy smiles.

“Thank you for today. It means a lot that you did really try your damndest and succeeded.” He says earnestly. 

“Of course. It was important to you.” 

And Buck can’t help but kiss him for that, and he does, because he can. 

[devildom-moss]

idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and��� fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...

[eveningepiphany]

far from sober | H.S

my masterlist

part II

summary: you’re incredibly drunk, and when you are it comes with you having an obscene lack of a filter. harry being the sweetheart he is, is trying to get you back into your hotel room in one piece. he was not ready for you to be so touchy.

warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk people (including close family members), fluff, sexual tension, brothers best friend, drunk crying lol

a/n: sorry I haven’t posted properly in a while! here’s a shorter piece while I work on some more stuff <3 plenty to come x

———

Saying you were a bit drunk was a drastic understatement.

You were stumbling all over the place, heels becoming impractical now you were so intoxicated.

Harry, who knew you were going out with some of your family and friends tonight at the bar, had no idea what he was coming back to.

You don’t remember actually intending to get this drunk, but your Aunty had been egging the group on to do some shots, and before you know it you’re well past tipsy. Even your mum was getting drunker than you’d seen in years.

So all the other boys who’d gone out— including Harry— walk into the hotel bar. It was as chic as the lobby, just adorning some more neon signs and rustic bar stools.

Harry had gone out with them to look at a heap of shit that you and your female family members had little interest in. They’d insisted you all stay and just have a couple cocktails, since it was a holiday after all.

It was to their surprise when your same eager aunt bounded up to them when they popped through the door to the bar. They had expected tipsy, but not hammered.

“Oh my god!! You guys will not believe how good the cocktails are here!” She swooned, and they all glanced at each other with an amused chuckle.

“I think I just might believe it.” One of the boys piped up.

Most of them dispersed to find their significant others, family or friends amidst the bar, and see how much chaos was being caused.

But you’d b-lined straight for Harry, regardless of whether he was seeking you out.

His brows shot up when you collided with his side, “Harry!”

Your arms wrap around his middle and you end up latching onto him, practically using him to keep yourself upright.

“Oh!” He speaks in surprise, hands jumping up to brace around your lower back.

“Are you absolutely hammered too, love?” He chuckles and you bury your face into his chest.

“Yeaaaaa…” you drawl, a smile spreading onto your face.

“Everyone else is rounding up their partners. Suppose I’m in charge of you, yea?” He suggests, rubbing your back.

“Wanna—“ you hiccup, “have a drink with me?”

He shakes his head with amusement, “I think you’ve had plenty, sweetheart. We should get you back to your room.”

Most of your drunk family were getting escorted out by their respective people, being taken up to their hotel room before they can drink themselves any sillier.

This included your brother, Leon, who had his longtime girlfriend pulled into his side, holding her half up and laughing a little at her drunken slur.

He came to a stop when he seen both of you, eyes flitting between your two figures. A small twitch of his brows suggested he wasn’t sure of how he felt about the sight.

“You got her?” He asks, a protective edge to his voice. One that drunken you missed easily as you stayed plastered against him— which is something sober you would not do in general, let alone in front of your brother.

Harry nodded straight away, understanding his defensiveness over you since he feels the same about Gemma. He said softly, “Of course, I’ve got her mate. I’ll take her up to her room.”

Leon glanced at you again. Harry and him met when they were 9, and they’ve been best friends since then. He trusts Harry with his own life, and knows he’d never ever do anything that would hurt you, but his protective side is still flaring up.

Only when his girlfriend, Brie, complains of feeling nauseous he curtly nods, and continues heading for the door.

You are again, oblivious to all this, running your fingers along the tattoos exposed on his forearm— his sleeves rolled up to his elbows— putting his gorgeous skin out on display for you.

“I loveee your arms.” You slur, and his eyes shoot from the door back down to you.

He rarely sees you this drunk, and you’re suddenly very close— making comments that for many reasons are bringing a flush to his face.

“Y/N, Jesus you’re hammered.” He shakes his head, still smiling.

He slowly starts walking, “Cmon, let’s go. Y’brother is expecting me to get you back to your room in one piece.”

“You definitely won’t have a drink with me?” You whine, taking a few steps backwards trying to tug him in the direction of the bar instead of the door.

“Nope. Maybe tomorrow if you can even stomach alcohol.” He pushes the doors from the dimly lit bar open, and leads you into the back of the lobby that it’s connected to.

You squint at the dramatic change in lighting, which is hardly helping your sense of perception, or lack thereof, from the alcohol.

Harry’s hand has taken yours though, leading you to an elevator.

You noticed how warm it was, smooth against yours, aside from the rougher pads of his fingers from the years of playing guitar.

Being so off it, you could not keep that thought to yourself.

“Your hands are so soft, H. Like silk.” You say as you walk into the first elevator to open, squeezing his hand.

“First time anyone’s ever told me they feel like silk. I’m flattered.” He smiles, squeezing back.

“what floor are y’on, by the way? D’ya even remember— or are we a bit too wasted for numbers?” A teasing lilt is in his voice.

You half-laugh half-hiccup, “it’s… 7…?”

“You hardly sound certain about that.” He nudges you with a laugh, “It’s 12, we’re on the same one, remember.”

You laugh much harder than any sober person would, which makes it funnier to him. Since it was a mediocre joke at best.

You’re still laughing as you touch his chest with your palm, “you’re not funny.”

His gaze travels down to it, and he’s shocked at how touchy you are. You never do shit like this when you’re sober. His own amusement quickly takes the back seat, even though you’re still giggling.

However your face falls shortly after, laced with a curious gaze as you slide the neck of his long sleeve to the side, in search for the swallows inked onto his collar bones.

He watches as your eyes wander the small expanse of skin there, and how your fingers brush the tattoos.

“Having fun?” He asks, trying to joke again, but really he’s undeniably a little worked up.

“Yah, heaps.” You snap your gaze back up to him as you enthusiastically nod.

He hates the fact he’s blushing so hard right now over this, since you’re drunk and not completely in control, but he at the end of the day is a man with a very pretty girl— which happened to be you— pulling at his top like she wants it off him.

You hum to yourself, “Have such a pretty neck.” And you trail your hand up it, running a finger over his adams apple.

The elevator door opens like a blessing, and he quickly moves to make distance between the two of you.

“Can you remember your room number, darling? That’s one thing I actually don’t know.” He looks to you as you follow him out with clumsy moments.

“Uh… I dunno— wait I think the keycard is in my purse.”

He laughs at this— wondering if it will come to you in time once you sober up.

“Fuckkk.” You groan. “My purse is in Molly’s big handbag.”

The groan soon turns into a whine, because drunk and being slightly inconvenienced is not a good pair.

“It’s ok!” He amends quickly, trying to keep from having a drunken meltdown on his hands, “We’ll just got back to mine, only if you’re comfortable?”

He quickly prepares for you to not want that, “otherwise— I’ll call her, she didn’t seem too wasted, I’m sure she can—“

He’s interrupted by you, “I don’t mind going back with you.”

You say it with a confused look on you face, a tiny pout on your lips.

“Why would I be uncomfortable going with you?”

“Because… well— I’m not sure. I just wanted to leave you with other options.”

It’s not like you haven’t spent time alone together before— you’ve actually spent plenty, but just never with you drunk.

And so touchy.

“No. It’s ok. I love being with you!” You chuckle.

He leads you down the hall, pulling the keycard from his back pocket once he reaches his room, 3313.

The door clicks open, and he holds it open for you, following you in shortly after.

You’re still unstable on your feet, and one look at those heels, he’s surprised you haven’t ended up on the floor in the last ten minutes

They’re practically a health and safety issue. He can not imagine you getting them off right now— which is exactly what you’re about to bend over and attempt.

Before you can throw off your centre of gravity, he quickly says, “Go sit on the bed.”

You glance back over your shoulder, face only lit by the light from the lamp in the corner of the room.

“That’s a little forward, don’t you think, Harry?”

He toes off his own shoes, shaking his head immediately at your drunken misconception of what he asked.

“So I can take your shoes off.”

You make the few steps left to the bed safely, and you sit at the edge of it, still giggling as you say, “just my shoes, huh?”

“Yes.” He walks over, kneeling down on one knee, pulling your heeled foot up onto the strength of his thigh.

He fiddles momentarily with the laced up string, warm hands splayed on your calf, and choosing to ignore the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Christ. This is harder than he thought.

“I forget how hot you are sometimes.” You deadpan, and his jaw goes a little lax.

You’re usually playful, yes, but never do you breach into territory like this.

It was only others, like those at a family gathering, or your close friends, that would push to get stuff like that out of you like they were matchmakers.

There were many times that barbecues or some kind of event held at yours, Leon would invite Harry over. And if the two of you even interacted for just a second, someone in your family circle would tease you. Especially your own damn brother— it was a constant streamline of snarky comments from him.

“You are so drunk.” He mumble while pulling up your other foot.

You ignore his statement, thinking back to when he was a boy to now. He was cute— always was— but the way he looks now is just unmatchable.

“Have you always looked so… like… this?”

He chuckles, almost nervous, “what does question that even mean?”

“So pretty.” You clarify after a moment of trying to find the word.

“Ah, you’re only saying that because you’re plastered up the walls.” He laughs, and a dimple popped on his cheek, and your hand jumped into action before you could even think about it.

“Noooo, sober me thinks that too. She thinks you’re more than pretty.” You say, cupping his jaw, gently tracing the dimple that popped up.

He doesn’t know how to interpret any of this. His heart is jumping in his chest, and he’s trying to reason its genuinely just the alcohol in your system.

He holds eye contact as he slips off your other shoe, placing in neatly next to the other.

He stays there for a moment, unprepared for your next question.

“Can I kiss you?”

She’s drunk, she’s drunk, she’s drunk…

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.” He says, and it’s painful— because he wants to, so fucking bad, but you’re not in a state to consent to literally anything at the moment.

And especially not in the mind frame to be making decisions like this.

You lean forward anyway, before he has a chance to avoid it, managing to meet his lips on your own terms.

He caved for a brief flash of time, and allows a second for himself to feel it, no longer than that though. Just a mere moment to take in the warm, soft feeling of your lips on his. It takes so much strength for him to not kiss you back, he has to focus on the task at hand— sobering you up and getting you safely asleep.

He pulls back after that single moment, leaving his forehead against yours, “baby, I know, I really…” he cuts himself off.

A deep inhale and he stands up, “Not tonight. Cmon, let’s get you out of your dress. You can wear something of mine.”

He walks over to his suitcase, anything to remove you from his sight for a moment, to reset his thought process. He pulls out a tshirt and pair of gym shorts, hoping they won’t be too big on you.

Turning back around, he convinces himself he’s fine. Placing the clothes from his bag on the bed beside you, his hands come under your arms, helping you stand up on flat feet for the first time in hours.

You lean into the touch, turning around so he can undo the back of your dress.

The feeling of his fingers brushing your back have you going wild, and the way they gently slide the zipper of your dress down.

His eyes lock with the back of your lacy bralette and he chooses not to follow your skin any further down.

You use your hands to slip the straps off your shoulders— and very quickly the dress is pooling at your feet.

A shaky inhale passes through his nose as now you stand in just your underwear and a seemingly very pretty bralette.

He reaches and picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed.

“Do you want to… take this off before…?” He gestures to your bralette when he catches your eyes.

You nod, reaching behind you to undo the clasp and allowing it to slip from your shoulders to the floor.

Harry puts all his focus on getting the tshirt over your head to cover you up.

Once it’s over your whole frame, you can’t help but smile.

He’s so nervy and cute around you.

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile, suddenly feeling an overwhelming amount of adoration for him hit you.

It inflated up in your chest, and bubbled deep into the pit of your stomach.

It killed Harry to watch it happen, and although he had no idea what kind of thoughts were going on in your head, just seeing you light up like that…

You wrapped your arms around his middle again, just like you did when you ran up to him in the bar.

He placed his hands in your hair this time, taking in your scent— which was mixing with his own now that your were in his shirt.

“Love, if you were sober right now. God.” He confesses.

“Im sober enough.” You beg, even though it’s such a lie.

He still shakes his head against you, “‘M not gonna be that guy, Y/N. I have waited years just to have you. I can wait another night. Or week. Or a whole ‘nother year if that’s what it takes.”

This hits you hard.

And it felt like your 15 year old self could hear it up in the confines of your head it rung through you that loudly.

She loved him then, more than she’d ever admit. And sure, you’ve grown up from 15, but yet never once did you grow out of him.

As noted earlier, being drunk and inconvenienced is not a good pair. But being drunk and having someone say or do something sentimental like that is another level.

Tears immediately start to fall from your eyes, and he feels your chest shake at the sudden outburst of emotion.

He pulls back, thinking he’s done something wrong, or said the wrong thing, and an apology was immediately on the tip of his tongue.

But relief thrums through him as you tug him right back into the hug, “that’s— that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“The nicest thing a boys ever told me.”

“Sweetheart.” He coos as you cry, his own voice wobbly with emotion.

He feels like he’s on a roller coaster. 5 minutes ago it seemed all he could think about was the unspeakable things wanted to do to you, and now he just wants to lay you down and hold you until you fall asleep.

He forgets the shorts on the foot of the bed, shuffling the two of you up to where the head of it is— which was still unmade from last night when he’d slept in it.

He tugs you into it, pulling you tightly too his chest as your heads hit the pillows.

And he just hugs you.

Eventually, your crying subsides off, and you enter an indescribably calm state.

“I love you. I don’t even know if you’re going to remember this in the morning.” He sighs, “but fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too, Harry.” You whisper, before your eyes begin to fall heavy, and those words were the last to leave your lips before you fell asleep.

———

PART II, found here

a/n pt2:

back again guys, hello!

this is like an extended a/n, but I have a lil update. I saw harry for the very first time live 3 weeks ago. it was so so incredible, and the experience was by far the best time of my life. I miss harry so much i just feel sick ugh. he is perfect. auslot was amazing, he absolutely gave us his all.

that’s why I’ve been so absent on here, literally coping with my pcd a day at a time. I’ve written heaps but nothing I’m 100% happy with haha.

but anyways I just thought I’d share, thank you so much for your continued support and know there is plenty in the works x

all my love, <3

[chaosheadspace]

Hiii I hope you feel better soon!

8 or 46 for the kiss prompts?

@embroiderling

HI, thank you for sending in an ask! I did 46 (out of jealousy). I tried combining them, but what came out of my brain has really nothing to do with secrecy lol. Enjoy!

In theory, it could have been a good day. In theory. It had been Hob’s day off, teaching part-time and all, and he’d wanted to just relax for once. Don’t get him wrong, he loves life, but the last few months have been hectic with school, finding new staff for the New Inn and sorting out the veritable mess with his oldest friend. He’d come out on top of that, though, because (Hob still can’t believe it) said friend is now his boyfriend, and Hob has vowed to himself (and to Dream, for that matter), to make him as happy as he possibly can be.

Dream is busy tonight though, and so Hob had planned on a bath and a nice dinner, maybe a film. These plans are thoroughly derailed just as he’s putting in a load of laundry. His phone rings, and his barman for tonight barely has a voice, and according to him also a fever, maybe even RSV. Apparently the test said so. Remembering that Jon has asthma, Hob sternly tells him to go to urgent care, and then hangs up to curse a bit.

He’s got no one else to cover that shift.

Hob tries to see the bright side. He loves working the bar, to meet new people, to chat with regulars during (admittedly rare) lulls. So he does what he has to, moves his bath to the afternoon and then puts on a haphazard bun, his best apron and his best smile.

Upon entering the New Inn proper though, the smile quickly slides off his face again.

Dream is here, sitting at one of the tables, full wine glass in front of him, and opposite him a very stunning woman. Both of them are absorbed in conversation, like the world doesn’t matter to them right now, and Hob can’t help the familiar, sickening lurch his stomach gives.

Hob might be old, but he’s not been a good man for long stretches of his life, and even with six hundred odd years to work the kinks out of his personality, some of his faults run deep. Like his jealousy. Oily bitterness on his tongue, an older friend than even Dream. They look good together, right in a way Hob knows he could never be. And he trusts Dream, really he does, he trusts Dream’s heart more than his own.

The thing is, he doesn’t trust himself to be good enough, because he knows he’s not. His own light is a candle to Dream’s supernova, easily outshined, swallowed up.

No, Hob is not a good man at all, because the first thing he does is go right over to them.

“Hi love, can I get you anything else or are you good?” Hob’s got many faces. He’s managed to be polite in front of the queen once, he can manage it now. Maybe.

Dream looks up, startled out of his concentration, and the way his face lights up is a small consolation, but not enough to calm the burning acid in his stomach. He can’t let them know. Can’t let him know. If Hob could get any more jealous, he’s sure there would be poison dripping out between his teeth.

“Hello Hob,” Dream says, his voice like velvet, “This is Calliope. My ex-wife, I believe you would call it.”

Hob swallows. Contradictory feelings tear his heart apart inside his chest. Surely there is a reason they are apart now, but there had been something once, enough to get married…

Hob’s cruel mind reminds him of his recent daydreams , flashing images of a silver ring with rubies and a small cottage in front of his eyes. If he were alone, he’d shake his head and tug his hair and maybe scream into a pillow a bit.

Deep brown, soulful eyes look up into his, and Hob swallows again and forces his smile wider.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hob, his boyfriend.”

Calliope raises one eyebrow and shakes his outstretched hand as if she could see through him down to his last secret. Which she probably can, let’s be honest. In all his years, Hob’s never gotten as good at subtlety as he wished, and maybe his rampant jealousy is painted on his face.

“Really?” Calliope says, and Hob is gone, finished, his anger vaulting him over the edge.

He whips to the side, takes Dream’s face into his hands and kisses him in the middle of his own inn, apron and all, in plain view of the whole floor. Doesn’t keep it strictly appropriate either, instead he kisses Dream like it’ll be the last time, like the end of the world was upon them, filthy, with tongue. A very tiny, quickly squashed part of him tells him he might come to regret this later. But he has to, he can’t help it, can’t push down this feeling any longer, and so he stakes his claim.

Dream purrs under him, his chest rumbling, his neck tilted almost too far to be comfortable. There’s hands on Hob’s hips, fingers in his belt loops, tugging him down into Dream’s lap. Hob doesn’t care enough to resist. It’d be a bitch and a half to relocate his life fifteen years before it’s time but right now there’s no place else he’d rather be.

Dream remembers too late that Hob, unlike him, has to breathe, so by the time Dream lets him go just an inch, he’s panting like he’s run a marathon, and more than a little dizzy.

“I see,” he can hear Calliope’s amused voice behind his back.

Dream hooks his chin over Hob’s shoulder, possibly to say something, the rumbling purr still rolling through his chest and into Hob’s.

Calliope doesn’t let him get a word in, though. “It’s fine,” she says, “but do keep me out of it next time. We can catch up at a later date.” Then there’s only footsteps and the din of the Inn around them.

A stray thought slowly filters into Hob’s brain, through the mess of feelings and lack of oxygen. He takes another breath, clears his throat.

“Did you…did you do that on purpose?” he asks.

The purring intensifies, then Dream speaks, haughty, vague. “Maybe.”

Hob laughs. He knows he should be mad, but right now he’s just relieved to be accepted, wanted even in his messy imperfection.

send me a kissy prompt or read the finished ones here

[supernovafics]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: explicit language, some mentions of alcohol, parent drama (both reader’s and steve’s parents suck)

summary: in which your parents and steve’s come over for dinner 

author's note: this has absolutely nothing to do with the harry styles song but the title of it is just very fitting so yeah<33 i’ve been rewatching a lot of gilmore girls this fall season so i feel like that's helped me get the hang of writing awkward/tense dinners with family lol so this needed to be done

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

When your and Steve’s parents first suggested this “early Thanksgiving dinner,” you thought that it wouldn’t actually happen. 

The initial idea sounded pretty funny to you— your parents and Steve’s parents would have a full on dinner at your apartment a week before the actual holiday. Yeah, right.

It sounded like the kind of idea that parents that really cared about spending time with their children would have, and that wasn’t how you’d necessarily describe yours or Steve’s. 

A month ago, when they told you about the ski trip the four of them were going on during the entire week of Thanksgiving, you expected to just not see them probably until Christmas— and that felt like a bit of relief to you because spending time with your parents wasn’t your favorite hobby.  

But then you remembered how, only during the holidays, your parents always had a need to show, or maybe more so “prove” to themselves, that they actually cared about you. So, of course, they wouldn’t let this stupid holiday go, and instead they thought that it would be best if you all did something early and together. 

And sadly, none of the immediate excuses that you and Steve came up with worked because your moms had solutions for everything.

When you told yours that the kitchen in the apartment was too small to cook for this kind of elaborate dinner, she simply told you that they’d buy and bring all of the food and you and Steve wouldn’t have to cook at all. She also not-so-jokingly mentioned that she would’ve never trusted either of you two cooking anyway.

And when Steve told his mom that the current dining table you two had was way too small to fit all six of you, she promptly had one ordered and delivered to your door in just a week. It was an expensive dark wood set that could comfortably fit six people, and you and Steve spent hours struggling to build it the day it showed up at your front door. It took up an obscene amount of space, but it did actually look kind of nice.

Now it was weeks later and the dreaded night was finally here, but you still tried to come up with any way to avoid it from happening. 

“And we’re sure that we really can’t get out of doing this tonight?” You asked Steve as you folded the blanket that was lying half-hazardly on the couch. “I could call my mom and say that we’ve somehow fallen tragically ill in the last hour?”

“I’m ninety-five percent sure that they’re all already on their way.”

“Shit.”

“It’ll be fine,” Steve said, and then he considered his words. “Actually, it will probably suck, but overall, we will be fine.” 

You let out a sigh and placed the now folded blanket back on the couch and then started cleaning off the coffee table, stacking the random magazines in a neat pile and then adjusting Harold’s cage so that it was nicely in the center. Your and Steve’s shared pet hamster was currently nibbling on the food that you had put in his bowl only moments ago. 

An abrupt feeling of worry shot through you as you looked around the apartment. The place was clean— probably the cleanest it had ever been— since you and Steve had spent the day doing everything to avoid either of your parents saying anything bad about the place. However, in the grand scheme of things, you knew that it didn’t matter because they’d still hate the apartment. They would hate how you two decided to furnish and decorate it, and they would passive aggressively make fun of the place for however long this dinner would have to be.

“Let’s try not to think about how bad this night is gonna be and just be glad that we’re not gonna have to suffer alone, like usual,” Steve said, practically reading your mind and the look on your face, as he started setting plates out on the new table. 

He was completely right. This was the first time that a collective Thanksgiving was happening among all of you. Usually, it was just you alone with your parents in Chicago visiting family members that you never talked to, and Steve was doing the same exact thing except he was in Indianapolis. You’d always end up calling each other at the end of the night from the hotel or family house you were staying at, and you’d tell each other stories about whatever weird family members you encountered or how boring it all was. 

It did make things feel a bit better that, for once, you didn’t have to go through this alone and neither did Steve.

“You’re right,” You said with a nod and then smiled. “We’ll be going through this shitshow together.”

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and since Steve was closer he went to answer it. You took one brief and final look around the apartment before heading toward the door too, so Steve didn’t have to be by himself in this greeting.

“Hi,” He said when he opened the door and saw all of your parents standing there. There was a bright smile on his face and he effortlessly turned on that “Steve Harrington charm” that people had adored in high school— you hadn’t even gone to the same high school as him, but you still heard so many of the stories.

A chorus of Hi’s and Hello’s were heard as your moms entered the apartment first since they were carrying all of the food and your dads followed in right behind them.

“I still hate that you moved into a place that doesn’t have a front doorman, or, at least, a buzzer system,” Were your dad’s first words to you; deciding against saying the simple “How are you?” that you had expected. “You two should get a better lock on your door.”

You laughed a bit. “We live in Hawkins, not New York, Dad. I don’t think anyone is really itching to rob us anytime soon.” 

“Anything can happen,” He responded, looking at you seriously. “I’ll bring you a new one when we get back from Colorado.”

You only nodded at his words instead of saying anything to rebut them; you knew that he overall meant well. “Okay.”

Your attention turned to your mom and she pulled you into a hug that felt way too forced before pulling away and giving you a quick onceover. “Oh… Is that what you’re wearing?”

You thought that your outfit was fine; a V-neck navy blue knit sweater that was a bit cropped and a simple pair of black jeans. But, your mom always managed to find something wrong with everything, so this reaction to your current outfit didn’t necessarily surprise you; it did still annoy you all the same, though.

“Oh, um, no I was just about to change,” You told her and forced a small smile.

She nodded at that. “Okay, that’s good, that’s good. You go change while Christine and I get the table set up.”

You started heading toward your room but looked back at Steve first. He was in a conversation with his parents that looked like they were doing much more of the talking than him. As if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes met yours and he gave you a hopeful look and that was enough to make you feel a little better.

It didn’t take long for you to change. You kept your sweater on but traded your jeans for the long black silk skirt that your mom had always liked on you. You hoped this slightly different outfit would be enough to satisfy her, and if not, you were willing to suffer through her inevitable look of disappointment. 

You lingered in your room, tidying up your desk for no particular reason and then deciding to remake your bed. It was clear that you were stalling, avoiding having to face your parents again, and as much as you wanted to continue doing that, you also didn’t want to leave Steve to fend for himself. You were supposed to be suffering together, after all. 

You immediately noticed the dining table when you walked out of your bedroom. The food was now nicely set out and there were even brown placemats sitting underneath the plates that Steve had already set out. It was all set up in a way that would’ve felt nice and wholesome if either of your families had ever remotely felt like the ones portrayed in most TV shows or movies. But, they weren’t anywhere close to being like that, so this all just felt weirdly forced.

Of course, you didn’t say that, though.

Instead, you sat down with everyone at the table and desperately hoped that the next few hours of your life would breeze by. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“From the brochure, the pictures of the cabin look really great. We hope it actually looks that way in person,” Steve’s mom, Christine, said. 

You took another bite of the mac and cheese on your plate as you continued to listen to your parents talk about their ski trip that was happening next week, which they had been doing for the last twenty minutes and you fully didn’t mind it. Since the conversation wasn’t centered on either you or Steve, things actually didn’t feel tense or nervewracking. If you could just make your parents talk about themselves during the entire dinner, you would probably end the night with a smile on your face. 

“Oh, and there are a lot of bedrooms too,” Your mom chimed in before taking another sip from the wine glass in her hand. “Maybe you two could take a trip up there soon and invite your friends to go too.” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” You said with a small nod.

“Enough talking about the trip, though, that’s probably so boring for your kids to hear about,” Your dad said, and you internally sighed because you knew the exact direction the conversation was about to go in. You felt him look at you. “How’s school been going? The semester is almost over.”

“It’s been good,” You answered, keeping your response short and sweet. You decided not to mention that you really couldn’t care less about the majority of your classes because none of what you were doing in any of them felt like it really mattered. 

“Okay, and your grades and everything are fine, right?”

You only nodded in response to his question, hoping that your lack of actual words would signal to him that you wanted to bring an end to this topic of conversation. Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“That’s good,” Your mom said. “You have to make sure your grades stay like how they were in high school, or even better, for when you transfer to the University of Chicago. We don’t want to have any reason for them not to accept you again.” 

You suddenly felt like you were right back in middle school and high school, where your conversations with your parents solely revolved around school; what your grades were, if you were doing your homework and completing assignments on time, and studying for tests. It always annoyed you that the only times they would bother to pay attention to you was when it came to that stuff. Other than that, you were always seemingly an afterthought, never a bigger priority than their jobs. 

In a way, this entire conversation should’ve been expected; it was always inevitable. Pretty much anytime you talked to your parents in recent months, the discussion always seemed to circle its way back to that school and you going there in two years instead of right now, like they had wanted you to.

“I’m still so surprised that you decided to not go to the University of Chicago now,” Christine said and you turned your attention to her. It was starting to feel a bit painful to you that the subject still hadn’t changed yet. “When Steve told me that you were going to go to the community college close by, I couldn’t believe it, honestly.”

You noticed your parents share a look upon hearing her words. The mix of disappointment and annoyance toward you that was shared between them in that moment felt palpable. 

“I didn’t think it was time to leave Indiana just yet. I’ll be going soon, though,” You said, keeping your voice light and plastering on a fake smile, even though all you wanted to do in that moment was leave the table and hideout in your bathroom for the rest of the night. 

You saw your dad smile a little and then you also noticed the look of relief wash over your mom’s face. For some stupid reason, you still felt the need to make them feel pleased with you. And somehow that made you feel even more upset with yourself than anything they had said to you so far tonight. 

The only thing that managed to make things feel remotely tolerable right then was Steve sitting across from you, giving you a look that said, “Everything will be okay.” For the time being, you chose to believe him and you simply took another bite of your food. 

You were about to say something about how good the turkey was so your moms would start talking about the restaurant they got all of the food from and why they chose it— you were sure that there was some story behind it all— and that would finally bring an end to the college conversation. But, before a word could leave your mouth, Steve’s dad began speaking. 

“Well, at least, you’re in college. We can’t say the same for Steve here.” He then looked at his son. “Do you really want to work at a video store for the rest of your life?”

 Christine let out a sigh. “Jeff.”

“What?” He shrugged as if his previous question wasn’t completely condescending. “I’m just asking a question.”

“I’m actually starting at the community college next semester,” Steve told his parents and you tried to hide your immediate confusion. “I found out I got in a few days ago.”

“Well, that’s great,” Christine said happily, and Jeff smiled approvingly as well. 

You had no idea Steve had gotten in or even applied, and you wondered if he was lying right then to just get his parents off his back, but you couldn’t tell. Something about the way he said it honestly felt pretty real. The only part that didn’t feel real was that you were finding out during this dumb dinner instead of at any other time. 

“So, I was wondering,” Your mom began and you braced yourself for the impact of whatever she was going to say. “Why did you two decide to get a hamster? I feel like it makes things smell a bit funny in here…”

A part of you was glad that the conversation finally shifted away from college. But you didn’t think that the passive aggressive comments toward the apartment would begin with Harold. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Well, this night was fucking brutal.”

You let out a sigh. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

Steve was doing the dishes as you put what was left of the food into tupperwares and then put them in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was a lot of stuff leftover; your moms definitely went overboard with the amount they had ordered. You and Steve already made plans to invite Robin and Eddie over tomorrow to have some of these leftovers.

“I’m actually glad that the dessert tasted bad since it made them want to leave early.”

“It was honestly a bit bittersweet because I was kind of excited for that pie,” You said as you placed the final tupperware of food into the fridge and then went over to Steve. “Oh, and also,” You punched his arm and ignored his immediate “ouch.” “Why the hell didn’t you tell me that the stars have finally managed to align and we’ll finally be going to the same school for the first time ever?”

He smiled a little at your dramatics. “I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it just in case I somehow didn’t end up getting in. I swear I was gonna tell you tomorrow.”

“So, you did all of that annoying application stuff by yourself?”

“Robin helped me with it.”

“I would’ve been happy to help you,” You told him, and maybe you were being a bit overdramatic, but you actually felt slightly offended that he hadn’t wanted to come to you about this. 

The possibility of you two going to the same middle or high school was a far out idea that never happened because you lived in different towns. But, it was still something that was adamantly and wistfully talked about by you and him; how much more fun both of your school lives could be if they intersected in that way like the other parts of your lives did. 

Of course, going to the same college would’ve been the most obvious way for it to finally happen, but Steve never seemed that interested in going to college, and up until the last possible second you were being pushed toward Chicago by your parents. 

But now things were finally different.

“I know that you would’ve, but I didn’t want to talk about it to anyone, honestly. Robin saw me working on the application one day and decided to help,” He explained and you only gave him a small nod in response. “I didn’t even think I’d tell my parents about it, but when I heard my dad’s dumb comment about Family Video I felt like I had to say it so he wouldn’t keep looking at me like a disappointment.” He sighed. “And it’s kinda fucked up… I really don’t wanna care what my parents think about me and what I’m doing with my life, but I think there will always be a part of me that does.”

You thought back to your dad’s approving smile and your mom’s relieved look when you reassured them that you still planned to go to the University of Chicago; how much you still wanted to make them feel at least a little proud of you even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“Me too,” You said softly. 

“I’m glad we probably won’t have to see them again until Christmas.”

You sighed. “Apparently, my dad is gonna bring us a new lock for the door when they get back from their trip.”

“Oh,” Steve said and then smiled at you when it looked like he thought of something. “Okay, what are the odds that he’ll just send someone to put the new lock on the door instead of coming himself?”

You thought about it for a second. “Honestly, I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that would happen. He’ll probably be too busy with work after the trip to actually come and do it himself.”

“Okay, let’s hope for that,” He said as he finished washing the last plate and placed it on the drying rack. “So, since the dessert was a bust tonight, do you wanna go to the diner? I’m sure Mary would never fuck up her apple pie. And then when we get back, we can finish that bottle of wine that our moms left.”

You smiled at his suggestion. “You have a brilliant mind, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

hmmm before taylor x player get together mayeb taylro gets asked about her in an interview?

Jimmy Fallon and a DM

taylor swift x fem!NHL!reader

note: not that good lol, sorry i loved the idea just got busy and i wanted to put it out sooner than later <3

Between the break for the USA and International leg of her tour, Taylor was set to appear on Jimmy Fallon. Waiting for her que, getting her hair fixed last second by the stylist, she hears the ‘Please welcome, Dr. Taylor Swift”  

The fans in the live audience cheered as Taylor stepped out onto the set, giving Jimmy a quick hug before sitting down. The cheering never stopped, “Thank you so much.” The woman said, addressing the crowd which only causes them to cheer more.

“We are just so happy you’re here! And I announced you as ‘Doctor’ this time. ""Yes. Thank you. But really I’m happy to be here.” “And we’re so excited to talk about the tour, so you’ve finished the USA leg. And you have announced The Eras Tour film, coming out worldwide October 13th! And it really is a record breaking tour!”

The crowd cheering again, an awkward smile on Taylor’s face, even after years it will always be weird to have people tell you all your accomplishments. 

“I mean, I've written some things down; the tour is already estimated to earn over $1 billion, your opening night in Glendale was the most-attended concert by a female artist ever in the U.S., and your tour has actually boosted the economy! I mean that’s amazing! That’s amazing.” “Thank you! That is so kind of you to say all that!” “Well it’s true!”

-

“And- y’know speaking of your athleticism in getting ready for the tour, a certain athlete in the NHL for the New Jersey Devils, said you were her celebrity crush. Did you see this?”

Of course Taylor had seen it. The clip was all over ‘SwiftTok’ a place she was very active in, with her secret account. And only her closest friends knew that she had in fact started to reciprocate the feelings. Growing a crush on the girl after watching clip after clip of her doing media, getting mic’d up, and answering the questions; and getting butterflies in her stomach whenever she hears Y/n mention her.

“Um, yes I did. I mean, Y/n L/n, she’s very talented and I really admire her, and how far she’s brought herself; and she is definitely far more athletic than me.”

A low chuckle coming from the crowd, Taylor thankful it was Jimmy interviewing her and not anyone else, who would want to press on the subject.

-

One thing about Y/n is she loves talk shows, reality TV, and award shows. So having a night off, Y/n decided to stay in and do her favourite activity, surfing the channels. And she happens to come across the Jimmy Fallon tonight show, with Taylor Swift in the seat adjacent to the host. And another thing about Y/n is whenever she sees Taylor Swift, she stops.

They were talking about her workout routine to get ready for the tour, which truly to Y/n sounded very impressive. Then they did something that at this time feels like the worst thing ever, yet will turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to her. 

Jimmy mentions a ‘certain athlete’. That’s what Y/n believed would end her life, hearing Taylor Swift talk about her confessing her brush on the woman. Hearing that your celebrity crush has heard what you’ve said about them, was probably her worst fear.

Before she could even hear what the woman was going to say, against her own will, Y/n turned off the TV, put on music and finally started to make dinner; something she was putting off before that became her alternative.

-

The early morning light of 5:30 am filtered through the curtains, Y/n getting out of bed and making her way into the bathroom, and getting ready; telling her google home to play her morning music, getting into her workout attire, before making her way into her kitchen and making a smoothie with her pre-workout. 

Only going on her phone in the elevator, the woman almost dropped her half-finished smoothie, and honestly she herself almost fell to the floor seeing the DM she had gotten.

Hey, Y/n

I’m sorry if talking about you on The Tonight Show in any way made you uncomfortable, but I really do admire you and I was wondering if you would ever want to go out sometime. It isn’t just you with the celebrity crush.

Lesson number one of how to kill Y/n, be Taylor Swift and ask her out.

~taglist~

@orange15quote

[eveninggstar]

my kink is karma ⊹ ࣪ ˖

charles leclerc x singer!ex!reader, unspecified driver x singer!reader

24.07.24

୨ৎIt's been six months since you and Charles broke up in April. Since he kicked you out, his team's performance has noticeably declined. Despite the breakup, you've kept up with the races and are often seen watching them. Some of Charles's fans have labelled you as jealous or worse, but in reality, you simply find satisfaction in seeing Charles fail after he proved to be an inadequate boyfriend. So much so you would joke its your kink.

୨ৎ back a page ୨ৎ back two pages

pretend monaco gp was in april, not may lol also the timeline is all over dont mind it lol (this isnt one of my best fanfics)

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Charles crossed the finish line, claiming victory at the Monaco Grand Prix. You stood by the sidelines, your heart swelling with pride as he emerged from his car, triumphant and glowing with sweat and adrenaline. As the celebrations unfolded, you finally found a moment alone with him in his driver’s room.

"Congratulations, Charlie!" you beamed, wrapping your arms around him. "What are we going to do to celebrate tonight?"

His expression shifted from joy to irritation in a heartbeat. He pulled away from your embrace, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I just want a moment alone," he snapped, his voice low but sharp.

The words stung, and you took a step back, trying to hide your hurt. "What do you mean?"

He sighed heavily, avoiding your gaze. "You're always around, always asking for attention. It's like you’re trying to piggyback off my success to boost your own career."

Your breath caught in your throat. "That's not true, Charles. I’m just proud of you and want to support you."

"Well, it doesn’t feel that way," he said, his tone colder than the champagne being sprayed on the podium. "You're annoying, and I need some space."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "Fine. I'll give you space." You brushed some loose hair behind your ear. "I’ll see you at home, I guess."

The following Tuesday, the apartment you shared felt colder than usual. Charles had been distant since the race, and you could sense something was wrong. As you walked into the living room, you found him waiting, his expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Your heart sank. "What’s going on?"

"I think it’s best if we go our separate ways," he said bluntly. "This isn’t working anymore."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Charles, please, can we talk about this?"

He shook his head. "No. I’ve made up my mind. I want you to move out."

Tears finally broke free, streaming down your face. "But where will I go?"

"That's not my problem," he said, turning away from you. "You have until the end of today to pack your things."

With those final, cold words, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, shattered and alone in the apartment you had once called home together.

The days following the breakup were some of the darkest you’d ever known. You found refuge at your parents' home, which once felt warm and inviting and a good idea to bring Charles to, but now felt hollow and cold. Even when he ditched you, he couldn’t help but ruin something you held so dear. But instead of succumbing to despair, you channelled your emotions into your music. Late nights found you in your makeshift home studio/childhood bedroom, writing and recording songs that poured out your heartache, frustration, and eventual acceptance.

You released your music under an alias, wanting the work to stand on its own and not attract the flood of F1 fans wanting to see how you were after the "golden boy" broke everything off. To your surprise, the songs quickly gained traction. The raw emotion and honesty resonated with listeners, and your music began to blow up. The overwhelming support and success of your songs helped you heal. You started to feel happier and more fulfilled, finding strength in your own achievements. And it had only been a week!

One day, you decided it was time to reveal yourself. You posted a video on social media, explaining the journey behind your music and how it helped you through the toughest period of your life. The response was overwhelmingly positive, with fans praising your bravery and authenticity.

Meanwhile, Charles's career took a downturn after his Monaco win and the breakup. Ferrari’s performance in the following races was abysmal, plagued by mechanical failures and strategic errors. His frustration was evident, both on and off the track.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself and perhaps regain some control, Charles decided to change his appearance. During an interview, he was asked about the patchy, orange highlights in his hair.

“I thought a change might do me some good,” he said, running a hand through his hair and forcing a smile. “But clearly, it didn’t turn out the way I planned.” He sensibly decided to wear a hat until his mother was free to fix it, yet she had very little free time that lined up with his busy schedule.

Maybe karma was real, and it was his turn.

The Canadian Grand Prix was a disaster for Charles. During the race, a miscalculation led to a devastating crash. The car spun out of control, smashing into the barriers. The crowd gasped, and the cameras quickly cut to the chaotic scene. Fortunately, he was unharmed, but the crash marked a low point in his career.

As the medics rushed to Charles’s side, the camera panned over the crowd. There you were, sitting in the stands with your sunglasses on, watching the scene unfold. A slight smile played on your lips—not out of malice, but as a quiet acknowledgment of how far you had come since that painful breakup. You had found your path and your peace, and seeing Charles now, it was clear you were better off.

As Charles struggled with his racing career, his personal life took a turn that left many puzzled. He began dating a string of significantly younger women, each relationship seemingly lasting no more than two weeks. The media and fans noticed the pattern, and speculation ran rampant. It seemed like Charles was desperately searching for something—or perhaps someone—to fill the void.

Meanwhile, your career continued to flourish. You were seen at a variety of high-profile events: fashion shows, music festivals, charity galas, and, yes, occasionally at races. Your rising fame meant your presence was increasingly noted, and the public couldn’t help but draw connections between your appearances and Charles’s chaotic love life.

Some of Charles’s more fervent fans took to social media to voice their opinions, accusing you of being jealous of his new girlfriends and of Charles himself. They claimed you were trying to stay in the spotlight by being seen in the same places he frequented. The reality, however, was far from their accusations; your success had brought you to these venues on your own merit.

One evening, you attended a high-profile charity gala. Dressed in an elegant gown, you mingled with other artists, philanthropists, and celebrities. The event was buzzing with excitement, but the atmosphere shifted when Charles arrived with his latest girlfriend, an 18-year-old model. Whispers spread through the crowd, and cameras clicked furiously as the couple made their entrance.

You found yourself near the press line when Charles and his date approached. Despite the awkwardness, you struggled to hold back your laughter, it coming out as a quick snigger. Charles’s eyes briefly met yours, and there was a flash of something—regret, maybe, or recognition of how much had changed. Your reaction caught the lingering eyes of another driver who was present at the same gala.

Later that evening, you were approached by a group of Charles’s fans when a different driver had so graciously offered to walk you home. Their faces were a mix of anger and curiosity. “Why are you always around?” one of them demanded. “Are you still hung up on Charles?”

You took a deep breath, maintaining your calm demeanor. “I’m here for my career,” you said evenly. “Just like everyone else. My presence here has nothing to do with Charles.” You turned to look at the man holding your hand. "Charles is the least of my concern." After you said his name wrong in front of these die-hard fans, their faces morphed into more disgust (if possible).

It had been another tough race weekend for Charles. His frustrations were evident not only on the track but also during the post-race interviews. Sitting down with a popular motorsports journalist, he was asked about the ongoing challenges with his team and his personal life.

"Charles, it's been a rough season for you. How are you coping with all the changes, both professionally and personally?" the journalist inquired, genuinely concerned.

Charles shifted in his seat, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, it's been tough. The car isn't performing as well as we hoped, and there have been a lot of distractions off the track too."

The journalist nodded, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper. "Speaking of off-track distractions, there's been a lot of media attention on your former partner. She's been seen with another driver quite frequently. Any thoughts on that?"

Charles's jaw tightened, and he forced a smile. "I think it's interesting how some people move on quickly and find comfort in familiar circles. It’s almost like they’re trying to stay relevant by associating with those still in the spotlight."

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Are you suggesting that she's using this new connection to boost her own profile?"

Charles shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just saying it's curious. I focus on my career and my performance. If others choose to spend their time differently, that's their prerogative."

The comments made by Charles quickly spread across social media and the news, stirring up a storm of speculation and opinions. Fans and analysts dissected his words, trying to decipher whether he was shading you and the other driver you had been seen with.

You had indeed been seen frequently with another driver, but it wasn't anyone's business, especially Charles's, if you "moved on too quick." Both of you had bonded over shared interests and the mutual understanding of life in the spotlight. The growing relationship had been a source of comfort and support for you, but now it was being dragged into the media circus.

Despite the media frenzy, you continued to thrive. Your music career soared, and your public appearances were met with admiration and respect. The relationship with the other driver remained a positive influence, untainted by the rumors and insinuations.

As for Charles, his comments eventually faded from the headlines, overshadowed by the ongoing drama and excitement of the racing season. The world continued to watch, always eager for the next twist in the tale, but you had found your peace and your path, no longer defined by someone else's shadow.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

if this is your first time reading one of my fics i promise i can write better (i genuinely feel as if this was a flop) also if you saw this before i deleted the first version and had it copied twice no you didn’t

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[moni-logues]

A Simple Favour

Pairing: Changbin x named reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: fake dating, friends-to-lovers, smut

Summary: Your temper got the better of you and you lied to your sister. Rather than coming clean, you get your best friend playing pretend, too.

Word count: 21.5k 💀

Content: fingering, protected sex, discussion about sex toys, some very uh, unshowered sex lol, reader is called Miki (Mikyong)

A/N: ahhhghheghhef my longest ever one-shot and first ever fake-dating fic is here!!!! And it's BINNIE!!!! this all started with this post and I truly never had any intention of turning any of them into proper fics. But then.... but then I honestly couldn't stop thinking about this Changbin and so I wrote a scene and then another, and then another and suddenly, it was happening! I HAVE given reader a name, because it's frankly annoying af to not be able to call your reader anything and I don't like using 'y/n' lol so hope that is ok with y'all hahah

Thank you to @minisugakoobies for beta-ing and @violetsiren90 for all the sprinting and enthusiasm!!!!!!!!!

* * *

“I need to ask you a favour.” 

“Yeah, ok, sure.” 

“No, no, I need you to hear what it is first.” 

You sat down next to Changbin on the sofa and it was only then that he started looking as if he was paying attention. 

“Ok...” 

“I need you to be my boyfriend.” 

Changbin was out of his seat before the word had come to an end. 

“What?!” 

“Not really!” you cried, immediately standing up again, hands raised, trying to placate him. “I just need you to pretend to be!” 

“What?!” 

You groaned loudly and tipped your head back to shout at the ceiling. Then you motioned for him to please return to his seat so you could explain. 

“I... may... have... toldmysisterthatwe’retogether.” 

He was on his feet again, roaring. 

“WHAT?!” 

“It’s not my fault, ok?! You know how annoying she is!!!! She won’t stop going on about how we act like a couple and how we’d be good together and why don’t we just get together and don’t I see and no one else wants to go out with me anyway, what, do I think I could do better and I just fucking snapped!” You gripped him hard on the arms and stared, wide-eyed and grimacing at him. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” you told him through gritted teeth. “I snapped. I told her we were already dating but trying to keep it quiet until we knew if it was going anywhere.” 

Changbin did exactly as you had not a minute before: looked skyward and groaned all too loudly at the ceiling of your apartment.  

“So you mean to say that your sister now thinks we’re a couple?” 

“Yeah... and I mean, Chan, too, obviously. He was there.” 

Changbin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  

“You mean my best friend Chan?” 

“Hey! I’m your best friend!” 

“Not anymore!” 

He took a few steps away from you and shook his head, shook out his arms, rolled his shoulders. You did not know if you would be able to convince him to go along with your charade. It wouldn’t have to be forever, not even for long; you just had to find a way to back out of it that left both your names untarnished. Couldn't be that hard, right? 

“Please, Binnie,” you began, tone softer now, sweeter, pleading just a little. “I know, I suck. But my sister sucks more and I really just want to get her off my back for a bit and I promise I will sort it out. I promise I’ll let us break-up quickly and you’ll come out smelling of roses! But please, please back me up on this.” 

He turned around, looking at you seriously.  

“What exactly is involved?” 

“Well, y’know, if Chan asks about it or something, just... go along with the lie. You don’t have to do anything really.” 

“Except for the lying and deceit and stuff.” 

“Yeah.” 

There was a pause in which Changbin stood, staring out of the window, hands on his hips, deliberating. Then he turned sharply to look at you. 

“I have a date tonight. Can we start tomorrow?” 

You inhaled sharply through your teeth, eyes shut tight.  

“Nope!” 

You winked an eye open to see how he’d react. There was outrage on his face. 

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” 

“You can’t go on a date with someone else if we’re together!! What if someone sees you?” 

He shouted again at the ceiling. 

“I was going to get laid tonight!” 

“Sorry!” 

You cowered, made yourself as small as possible, watching him as he nevertheless unlocked his phone and fired off a quick cancellation text. 

“I’m going to make you pay for this, you know,” he told you as he typed. 

“I know. I deserve it.” 

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll do it.” Then he flopped back onto the sofa and patted the seat next to him. “But to be absolutely clear, I am not going to your stupid family lunches.” 

“Actually...” 

* 

You were at your stupid family lunch. You had been going to Sunday lunch with your family for what felt like forever. At first, you and your sister schlepped way too far outside the city to your parents’ house, but now your sister hosted. Your sister and her husband, who just so happened to be best friends with your best friend. Why did the world have to be so small? 

This time, your boyfriend was here, too. Sorry, your ‘boyfriend.’ It had taken a thousand favours owed and promises of future gifts made, but Changbin finally agreed to come, and you had agreed the rules for this deception: 

1. You and Changbin had been dating for a ‘few weeks’ (since you got drunk at the river and decided to say ‘fuck it why not?’ to the whole thing).  

2. You made the first move. 

3. When in public together, you would always be prepared to act like a couple, should you run into anyone you knew.  

4. Changbin would lead and you would ‘yes, and’ him, no questions asked. 

5. Absolutely no dating other people, just in case.  

6. It was your job to find a way to end it that made both of you look good – or at the very least, made Changbin look good.  

7. No one—and that meant no one—else could know that it wasn’t real. 

Just as you were walking up to your sister’s front door, Changbin added another: you would give him servings of everything first – including seconds and thirds, even if they came from your own plate. He knew your mum and sister cooked well and he was going to enjoy at least some part of this afternoon. You felt you had no choice but to agree. 

“Hello,” you called as you entered your sister’s house, without enthusiasm.  

You had been dreading this since the second the words had left your mouth the previous week. You could have just not lied; you didn’t have to have said that you and Changbin were dating; you could have controlled your temper even a little and not have got yourself in this predicament. You could even have swallowed your pride and embarrassment and told your sister it was a lie, that you had said it to try to shut her up. It wasn’t like it would’ve been the first time you’d told her how annoying she was.  

But you hadn’t. You had lied and now you were sticking to the lie and Changbin was fully involved (if not invested) and you were about to spend an afternoon pretending to like him. 

You liked him fine, as a friend. You liked him a lot, even, as a friend. But he wasn’t That Guy to you. He’d never elicited so much as a single butterfly in your stomach. Not a flitter of a wing or twitch of an antenna. He was just Binnie. And you knew he felt the very same about you.  

“Finally,” your sister said by way of a greeting as she came down the stairs. “You’re late-” 

“No, we aren’t,” you snapped back, fully prepared to argue further but the look on your sister’s face took you by surprise. 

She was surprised.  

“Oh, Changbin! I didn’t know you were coming.”  

There was a sly smile on her lips as if there was a joke you weren’t in on, but you didn’t have capacity to be annoyed by that; you were waiting with bated breath to see what Changbin would do. 

“Hi, Hanbyeol,” he said, as polite and charming as he might ever have been. “Miki said she told you I was coming. I hope it’s alright I’m here.” 

“Of course it is! The more the merrier, right?” 

She winked at you as she walked past into the kitchen, and you rolled your eyes.  

“Absolutely!” Changbin responded, following her, grabbing your hand and tugging you along, too.  

This was going to be a very long afternoon.  

* 

The very longest afternoon of your life. When Changbin had made you promise to ‘yes, and’ him, you had thought he meant go along with his concocted story of your first date or something.  

You hadn’t expected... whatever the hell it was he was doing.  

The first time he called you ‘baby,’ you literally, physically flinched and had to try very hard not to scowl. The second time, the only thing that might have given you away was the flare of your nostrils. The third time, you dragged him off away from everyone to hiss viciously at him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“What?” he asked, with as much innocence on his face as he could muster. 

“Calling me fucking ‘baby?’ Why? Why would you do that?” 

“Aren’t you my baby?” 

“For fuck’s sake, Binnie! NO, you know I am not! What are you doing?” 

“You said I could play this however I liked and you also said I wouldn’t have to do anything but here I am, in your sister’s house, performing my perfect little tush off to keep your lie intact! So suck it up, baby: this is how Changbinnie dates!” 

You rolled your eyes and swore under your breath once more. 

“So you mean to say that you’re going to make this as painfully cringe-worthy as possible and embarrass us both?” 

“Both? Oh, I’m not embarrassed!” 

He didn’t wait for your comeback to that one and strode back into the kitchen, leaving you quietly seething but not yet regretting sticking to your lie. You could cope with an afternoon of this.  

Which is what you thought until you actually sat down to eat and Changbin made you stick to your word and serve him first. It was almost impossible to do it with a smile on your face – you were sure you resembled some kind of grotesque, with a rictus grin and clenched teeth – but you did your best. You really tried to be sweet to him, to pretend to care that he got the best cuts and biggest pieces of meat, that you were happy for him to take the last dumpling from your plate.  

You were sweating from the effort of it. You have never wanted to leave your sister’s house more. You felt suffocated. Hot. Uncomfortable. Embarrassed. Your parents were there; they also had to think it was real and you hadn’t considered the implications of him meeting the parents until it was too late. Suddenly, this felt serious.  

You had thought it would be easy pretending that you and Changbin were together because... well, you did spend a lot of your time together as it was. You were close. You were so close that it was what got you into this mess in the first place! If you already acted enough like a couple for your sister (who barely ever saw past her own nose) to see it, then the job was already done – you had thought.  

You had underestimated Changbin. Of course you had. His mischief, his love of performance, his inability to not do something that he knew would stitch you up in some manner. They all combined into what was sure to become your absolute worst nightmare and there was no one to blame but yourself.  

You were just going to have to find a way out of it and quick. 

* * * 

“Changbin! How nice to see you again!” Hanbyeol crowed the next week when you dragged him along for a second time.  

“Of course! The food last week was so good, Hanbyeol, I had to come.” 

She actually blushed. 

“Please, Changbin, call me Hani.” 

You rolled your eyes; she was too easily flattered and Changbin was a little shit.  

You hadn’t planned to make him come again. You would have preferred that he didn’t. But... Well, your sister just knew how to press your buttons. She had expressed her surprise at your apparently real relationship with Changbin, even uttering the words ‘I didn’t really believe you.’ She had then proceeded to lecture you on how to behave in a relationship and warn you of all your ‘usual tricks’ that apparently kept romantic partners away. You had been so thoroughly goaded that you had hung up on her and immediately dialled Changbin, telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he was  ‘coming next week even if I have to kill you and drag you there.’  

He had put up a fight, but the food really had been that good (your sister had many flaws, but cooking was not one of them) and he let his arm be twisted in far less time than before.  

He behaved in much the same way as he had but, this time, you were prepared for it. You had braced yourself. You even managed a real smile at Changbin at the dinner table, despite the fact that he, once again, ate the last dumpling from your plate. He didn’t up his game or do anything more to try to embarrass you this time – perhaps he hadn’t expected your quick adjustment; he had overestimated your temper – but you were glad for this. You had to admit (for a microsecond only) that he might actually be a good boyfriend.  

Neither of you had had any serious relationships in the time you’d been friends. When you met, your relationship was in the middle of a breakdown and your ex had moved out before you and Changbin had become firm friends. Changbin had dated, a lot, but none of them seemed to stick. Sometimes, he was sad about it; he would show up at your door with ice cream and his favourite blanket (yes, really) and you would coax the story out of him, trying not to press too hard on his bruised pride, his wounded heart. Sometimes, he chucked them before it got that far.  

You’d actually not really spoken about relationships all that much. You assumed Changbin didn’t want anything serious because he never had it. You assumed that he assumed you wanted to be single because you (mostly) were. You shared horror stories from occasional bad dates and Changbin sometimes made you pick out his outfits, but you didn’t talk about them. You didn’t talk about your fantasies and dreams, your ideal partners, ideal relationships; you didn’t talk about how much you really did want to have one. You weren’t single because you didn’t want a relationship; you were single because you didn’t know where to find one.  

You had burnt out on the apps in double-quick time and weren’t really sure where else to find anyone. You would never take up your sister’s offer to set you up, which might honestly have been cutting your nose off to spite your face because you did like Chan and she was happily married to him, but there was simply no way you would ever have been able to live with her smug self-satisfaction if she had been the one to introduce you to a life partner. And that left you with very few other options.  

* * * 

Having a fake boyfriend—who was your best friend at that—turned out to be quite a lot of fun. You did all the same things you usually did, plus handholding when in public and tolerating whatever cutesy baby-talk Changbin threw at you during your family lunches. That was easy.  

Your friends were outraged when you told them. Not because they opposed the union but because you hadn’t told them before. They went back through your friendship with a fine-toothed comb, pointing out signs and hints that they had known ‘all along’ that you were into each other. 

There were no signs. There were no hints. Because you weren’t into each other. But you let them have their fun because it helped sell the lie you were trying to peddle.  

* * *  

“Sister,” your sister began, on the phone to you almost two weeks after your second lunch. 

“What, sister?” you replied, already unamused. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Hani. She just... rubbed you the wrong way. A lot.  

“You and Changbin should come on a double date with us.” 

“What?” 

“A double date. Me and Channie; you and Changbin.” 

“Ugh.”  

You didn’t have a much more articulate response than that. Really? Why? Why did she always have to suggest these things? Why did she need to be so nosy? So many of the thoughts that stuck in your brain when it came to your sister began with the word: why. 

“Why?” you asked, already trying to think of excuses not to go.  

“What do you mean why? It’d be perfect! Channie and Changbin are friends; you and I are sisters; we all already know each other! You’re always such a spoilsport!” 

“But Binn- Changbin and I have already been for lunch twice; that’s basically the same.”  

You had stopped referring to him as Binnie since you had starting ‘dating’ him. You had deliberately not thought about why that was. 

“It’s not the same at all! Lunch is casual and boring! Our parents are there! We should go on a real date, have some fun!” 

“Maybe your relationship needs a fun injection but mine doesn’t.” 

You could see her rolling her eyes, hear the stomp of her foot on the floor. 

“Kim Mikyong,” your sister said and needed to say no more. When she full-named you, you knew it meant she wasn’t taking no for an answer, and you had given up fighting her on it because she showed surprising restraint in using it.  

You sighed. 

“When do you want to go?” 

“Ah! Perfect! I’ll ask Channie and get him and Changbin to set it up! It’s going to be so much fun!” 

She hung up without bothering to say goodbye and you looked at the phone in displeasure. You didn’t even know if Changbin would agree to it. It had taken so much coaxing to get him to lunch.  

And this was going to be so much worse. 

* 

But you’d been wrong before.  

Changbin lived two floors above you and, shortly before half-six, he was knocking at your door to pick you up for your date—your double date. 

You opened the door and surprise swallowed your greeting. He looked good. He looked like he’d put effort in. You remembered the outfit from one of the times he’d asked your advice; he’d worn this outfit on a date before. Your first instinct was to be peeved that he was recycling an outfit for your date. Then you remembered that you were only pretending to be together. And then you thought, actually, that maybe it was sweet he had put together a Date Outfit for the occasion.  

You’d put on a dress and everything, too.  

“You look nice,” he said, still standing in your doorway. 

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely. “So do you.” 

It was quiet in the lift as you descended, and you jumped a little when Changbin took your hand as you left the building. He looked at you, quizzical. 

“Sorry, just forgot what we were doing for a second.” 

“Hey, I’m happy not to hold your hand, but this was your rule.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine; it’s good. I mean, we should. It’s safer. We should. I just- I just forgot; surprised me.” 

You squeezed his hand in yours, because it was there to squeeze, and you realised you felt nervous. Your sister had been right: this was different. Lunch was casual. This wasn’t. You tried to remember how your sister had previously acted on double dates, but she hadn’t been able to get you on one since you were with your ex and that was a long time ago now.  

You wondered how Changbin would act. He had been so keen to play the game and embarrass you up until now; would tonight be the same? He seemed normal so far, but he didn’t have his audience yet. And everyone was still sober.  

* 

Your sister cooed and stretched across the table to you and Changbin, grabbing your hand and his forearm and giving a squeeze. 

“Oh, I’m just so happy!” she exclaimed, and you could tell by the way she scrunched her nose as she smiled that she was in one drink too deep. “I want you two to be so happy! Aren’t they happy, Channie?”  

He grinned at his wife and nodded before turning towards you.  

“Are you happy?” 

You shrugged which was very clearly the wrong answer. 

“Mikyong!” Hani hit the table with her palm.  

You shrugged again. 

“What?! What do you want us to say? I’m not going to fucking rhapsodise about it at the dinner table!” 

That was a mistake. You’d have seen it coming one bottle of soju ago and you wouldn’t have set foot in that trap. 

“Then I will!” Changbin said, tossing back his maekju, punctuating the end of his sentence with the thunk of the glass on the table.  

You groaned, inwardly and then out loud. Changbin turned to look at you, a sweet, shit-eating grin on his face. 

“I feel honestly amazed,” he began, his eyes widening in what you knew he hoped your sister would take for some kind of wonder or awe. “It seems so weird that we didn’t see it before.” He took your hand, and you clenched your teeth so hard your jaw hurt. “It feels so natural to be together, y’know? I’m more than happy! I’m comfortable and content; being with your best friend is the greatest thing in the world.” 

Hani cooed for so long, you worried she’d run out of breath. She held a hand to her heart, and you almost thought you saw tears in her eyes. She could give Changbin a run for her money in the dramatics department. You didn’t see Chan’s reaction because he hid his face taking a drink. Changbin had promised, as part of the rules, not to tell anyone else and you trusted him, but Chan would be the person he’d tell. Which worried you. Because you could fool your sister; your sister was a fool. Chan wasn’t.  

* 

You kicked Changbin as you got up from the table and made sure you walked behind your sister and brother-in-law so you could punch him in the arm for good measure. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hissed, face hot with alcohol and anger. 

“What was what?” 

“That disgusting little speech you gave! ‘Oh, it feels so natural! I’m so content!’. Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Changbin chuckled and nuzzled his nose into yours. 

“Oh, baby, don’t you feel the same? You’re going to break my heart!” 

“Shut the fuck up! How am I supposed to break us up when you say shit like that?” 

He shrugged. 

“I believe that is your problem. Besides which, you promised I’d come out smelling of roses so I can say as much saccharine, embarrassing crap as I like and you can just ditch me like the cruel and heartless being you are. Problem solved.” 

“And you want everyone to pity you for having your soft heart broken by me? Because that’s what’ll happen! They’ll ooh and ah and ‘poor Binnie’ you for weeks. And how are we supposed to continue being friends if you’re that heartbroken?” 

You could tell by his silence that he was annoyed to not have a quick retort. 

“See? You’re trying to embarrass me and make me squirm and yeah, it fucking works, but you’re also prolonging this! You’re making it harder than it has to be!” 

“Oh, whatever!”  

* 

The four of you stood on the subway, going in the same direction for at least part of the way home. Hani and Chan only had eyes for each otherour sister claimed they were ‘still newlyweds!’ but you didn’t think that, after over a year of marriage, she had any right to do so. You were glad that they were busy being moony-eyed at each other; it meant you and Changbin could relax a little, finally out from underneath the scrutiny of the pair. You weren’t holding hands, but you leant a little against his solid body, letting him support you as the train twisted and jostled you.  

You wouldn’t have cared—wouldn't even have been looking--a few drinks ago but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two of them. Envy grew like mould in your heart. You were happy for your sister, of course you were, but you wanted that. You wanted it for yourself. You wanted someone to look at you the way Chan was looking at Hani right now. You wanted marriage. You wanted that happily ever after shit that you knew didn’t really exist, at least not like in all the stories. But you wanted someone to believe it. Wanted someone to promise it to you even if it was beyond their power to enforce.  

It made you bristle, made you annoyed. At anyone. Everyone. Hani. Chan. Changbin. Yourself. You’d made this bed. It wasn’t as if you had been dating anyway, but now you had removed that as an option; you couldn’t even try to find what your sister had and it was all your own fucking fault. You watched as Hani took hold of the lapel of Chan’s jacket and lifted onto her tiptoes to press a giggly kiss to his mouth; you didn’t manage to hold back the scoff, didn’t manage not to roll your eyes.  

Your sister rolled hers in return and tutted. 

“What, Miki? I can’t kiss my husband?” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Your face says it all. Kiss your own boyfriend, why don’t you? And stop looking at mine.” 

“He’s not your boyfriend.” 

“No, he’s my husband and you’ll never get one if you keep going around on dates with a face like that.” 

“Hey,” Changbin says, smiling beneficently, “I like her sour, ugly face.” 

You punched him hard on his left pec and he ‘oof’ed quietly but it didn’t stop him smiling.  

“Yeah?” Hanbyeol challenged. “That’s a face you want to kiss, huh? Really? Don’t believe you.” 

Changbin reflected her challenge in his eyes as he looked down at you.  

“Maybe I don’t want to kiss him,” you spat, glaring at your sister, ignoring Changbin’s offer.  

“Oh, Mikyong, you are a bitter old maid, you bitch. Let your boyfriend kiss you if he wants!”  

Did he want? 

Your heart was beating faster than you’d have liked. Your mouth went dry when you finally turned to Changbin to acquiesce. This hadn’t been part of the deal. Did he really want to do this? You didn’t. This was weird. It would be weird! How could you pull this off? It was your first kiss! Changbin was about to kiss you for the first time! His face was leaning down! He was really going to do it! How could you let him get this close? How can you pull away without ruining everything? What should you-! 

His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle. Lasted no more than a second. It took longer for you to come around from it, your mouth pouting and open, looking at Changbin as if you were lost and he would show you where to go. He lifted one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin and winked. 

That broke the spell.  

“Happy now?" you asked your sister, your ‘ugly, bitter old maid’ face back on-screen. 

She rolled her eyes, good-naturedly.  

“Whatever, Miki. You are so easy to tease.”  

She said it all looking dreamily at her husband and it made your stomach drop. She only had eyes for him. He only had eyes for her. You were desperately trying not to look at your ‘boyfriend.’ You didn’t know where he was looking.  

* 

You got off the train a few stops later, leaving Chan and Hani on it. You were itching to be by yourself. You had to process what had happened. Changbin had kissed you. Kissed you. Sure, he was goaded into it; he did it because your sister told him to. But he still did it. You didn’t know how you felt about it. After just ten minutes, you were starting to believe it hadn’t even happened, that you had somehow imagined it. Because you and Changbin didn’t kiss. Even though you were pretending to be together. You didn’t kiss. That didn’t happen. 

Changbin walked you to your door when you reached your floor and you turned in the doorway, looking at him as sour as you’d ever been. 

“Going to try to kiss me goodnight?” you asked, jeering and hating yourself for it.  

Changbin looked at you, a little hurt, a little annoyed, a little fucking tired of your prickly temper.  

“No,” was his simple reply.  

You didn't say anything back, but he didn’t leave, so you each stood in silence, one either side of your doorway. You knew he wanted to say something as mean-spirited as you had; you knew he was better than that so he wouldn’t. 

He turned his body slightly away, as if to leave, and then looked at you, mostly just sad, you thought. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. We haven’t talked about that; we haven’t agreed anything on that. I just thought you’d want to show your sister. Prove it or something. So I’m really sorry. I’ll see you later.” 

He was walking away and you could taste something bitter in your mouth: your own temper, your impatience with people, your totally unfair expectations of people that were better than you but liked you anyway.  

Steeling yourself and clenching your fists, you followed after him. 

“Changbin,” you called softly, prompting him to turn around.  

You took his hand in both of yours. 

“I’m sorry, too. Sorry I’m such a bitch. The kiss was fine. Thank you. It was good. Probably necessary; I don’t know. Thanks. I guess. Sorry.”  

Changbin just laughed and pulled you into a rib-squeezing hug. 

“You are so fucking stupid.” 

He was very, very right. 

* * * 

Changbin knocked at your door and entered your apartment with far less cheer than he might normally. You hadn’t spoken about the kiss since it happened and there had been no repeats of it. Things had fallen back into your new normal ‘friends who are pretending to be more than friends’ sham. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

He sat on your sofa and looked up at you, still serious. 

“Remember how you asked me for a favour?” 

You asked him for lots of favours but you immediately knew which he was referring to. 

“Yes.” 

“Remember how you said it’d be over quickly?” 

“... Yes.” 

You did not like the direction this was heading in, but he was owed, you knew that, so you determined to meet your fate with grace. 

“Remember how the very night you asked I had a date?” 

“Yes.” 

“Remember how long ago that was?” 

“... A month?” 

He hummed and nodded.  

“I was going to have sex that night, but I didn’t get to. Why?” 

“Because I made you cancel so you could fake-date me.” 

“Exactly. Know what that means?” 

You couldn’t see where he was heading because- well, you could see, but you didn’t really know what the favour was going to be. You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.  

“Uh, I don’t know.” 

“It means it’s been well over a month since I last had sex. Because of you.”  

“I’m sorry?” 

He chuckled and his face brightened. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry, babe-”  

You had long stopped flinching at the terms of endearment as they leaked into your non-fake-dating time, too. If Changbin had noticed, he didn’t let on, but you were aware every time he called you anything other than your name.  

“-I’m just saying. Aren’t you bothered? It’s not like you’ve been getting any either.” 

You shrugged. 

“No. I guess I’m not that bothered? I don’t know; I’ve been longer without. A month isn’t exactly that long. And it’s not like there aren’t ways to entertain myself.” 

“Don’t you get bored of that though?” 

You laughed. 

“Did you really come here for masturbation tips?” 

The tightened curl of his lips and aversion of his eyes told you he was embarrassed and he was never embarrassed. 

“No,” he answered pointedly. “I actually came to suggest that we have sex.” 

“What?!”  

The shock brought you out of your chair. He could not be serious. 

“What?” he returned. “We’re already fake-dating! Why not make a bit of it real? It doesn’t have to mean anything. Except both of us getting some... release. Relief. Call it stress relief! From the stresses of pretending to be dating. It’ll make the pretence easier, too, since it doesn’t seem like you are going to actually break us up anytime so-” 

“I am! I am! I’m working on it...”  

You couldn’t help the whine that crept into your tone. You were working on it. Or at least, you had been. It was too difficult. How could you find a way for your relationship to end and for you to remain friends at the end of it? And with each day that passed, it got harder, because your ‘relationship’ had gone on longer. And everyone was expecting it was getting more and more serious – especially as it was built on the foundation of your very solid, very real friendship.  

“Ok and while you work on it, we could be having sex.” 

“Changbin...” 

He regarded you carefully and you looked back, hoping you looked as pathetic as you felt.  

“You don’t have to say yes. I won’t take it personally. I just... I honestly just really want to get laid and you are the only person I’m allowed to have sex with at the moment. So you’ve really stitched me up here.” 

You sank down next to him on the sofa and laid your head on his shoulder. 

“I am sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to go on this long. I didn’t mean to stitch you up. It’s kind of got out of hand--. I actually didn’t mean to create this mess at all. My sister sometimes just brings out the worst in me.” 

“Yeah,” Changbin replied, patting your knee. “Family can do that.”  

There was a brief lull and then Changbin slapped his own thighs and stood. 

“Well, if you don’t want to have sex, I’m out of here.” 

“I didn’t say that!” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you were furious that your cheeks had the audacity to warm. You were a grown woman; he was a grown man. You should at least be able to talk about sex. You did talk about it! You had discussed it! 

But it was different when it was this – the two of you having it. Together. There was a line there. And he may have made some good points (you weren’t getting any; as long as you were pretending to date each other, you couldn’t sleep with anyone else; it would make the pretence easier), but suggesting it didn’t have to mean anything? Surely it meant something. It had to mean something! Friends didn’t just fuck their friends. That never worked. It always made things weird.  

Weirder than they already were? Wasn’t it already weird that you pretended to be together whenever you saw any of your friends, any of your family? Wasn’t it already weird that Changbin was so used to calling you ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ and god knew what else that he said even when you were alone? Wasn’t it already weird that you didn’t hesitate anymore, that the words ‘I have a boyfriend’ fell from your lips without your even having to try? Wasn’t it already weird that you were... getting used to this? Enjoying it even?  

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I also didn’t say I did. I don’t know. Don’t you feel like it would be weird?” 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe. Kind of too horny to care.” 

“Seo Changbin!” 

“What?! I'm being honest!” 

“I’ll think about it, ok?” 

“Sure. No pressure. I mean it.” 

“I know.” 

You did know. You would trust him with your life, and he was the softest little goober you’d ever met. That he might pressure you was not your concern at all.  

* 

You were true to your word: you thought about it. On and off over the next couple of days you thought about it. How much further over the line was it, really? You held hands. You had already kissed, a little. Ok, once. Was sex really such a leap? It would lend a lot of credence to this stupid lie you were both living. And you would get to have sex.  

But it would be with Changbin. What if he was bad at it? What if you discovered you were bad? What if his dick was weird? What if he liked stuff you hated? Or vice versa? You didn’t know if you believed that sex could be Just Sex, but, even if it could, that didn’t mean it wasn’t complicated. There were factors. A lot of them.  

A week and a half later, you thought you were experiencing déjà vu when Changbin entered your apartment again, asking for a favour. 

“Sex again?” you asked as you shut the door behind him. 

“Not exactly. It’s more embarrassing.” 

You did not attempt to hide your glee. 

“I love it; please ask immediately.” 

“Last time I asked about sex, you implied that you didn’t get bored getting yourself off. I’m asking, how? ‘Cause I’m looking at my hand like it’s my fucking enemy at this point.” 

You laughed. 

“Do not laugh!” he shouted. “I’m in actual need. I’m in agony. Please. Tell me how to make it more interesting for myself.” 

“I mean... Firstly, we have different parts, so my experience is not directly applicable to you. Secondly, how can you be that bored? Have you seriously never gone this long without sex in your adult life?” 

He shrugged but you recognised the look on his face: the one where he tried to hide a smug, gloating, little grin.  

“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t gone more than two months without sex?” 

“I haven’t had to!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You were in half a mind not to help, feeling like it might somehow expose you as undesirable, because you had been more than two months without; two months was currently very much in your rear-view mirror at that point.  

“Well,” you began, leading him into your bedroom, “for a start, if you’re only using your hand, then you are in for a treat. An entire world awaits you.” 

You knelt down next to your bedside cabinet and gathered all your toys, laying them out on the bed with a flourish. Changbin looked a little overawed.  

“That’s a lot of stuff.” 

“Yeah and you know you have to use them all at once?” 

For a second, he believed you and his eyes grew as wide as you had ever seen them before he scowled at you. 

“Shut the fuck up. I came to you for help. You owe me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m just teasing. Now, like I said, a lot of these won’t be applicable to you, or might be but I cannot vouch for any kind of pleasure or satisfaction because most were designed for vulvas and vaginas and not penises.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” 

“Oh, now who’s teasing?! You want help or not?!” 

“I do! Sorry! Fine, carry on.” 

“Ok, well, this,” you held up a rather unwieldy, slightly inelegant thrusting toy, “is my favourite. It does not look sexy but it sure as shit feels it. The problem with the others-” you gave a sweep of your hand over a few other insertables on the bed- “is that I have short arms and sometimes I just can’t get the angle I need and keep a firm grip on them, right? Which is why this one is so good.”  

You stopped yourself just as you were about to- to what? Demonstrate? You put it back down on the bed in a hurry. 

“Ok, well, I don’t need anything like that.” 

“No?” 

“I top.” 

“Right. Ok.” 

You lifted another, much smaller toy. 

“That looks like something you’d use to clean your face.” 

“I cannot recommend it for that. If you want to get someone to squirt though, she’s your man.” 

Changbin looked surprised. 

“Ever made anyone squirt?” you asked, not sure if he would answer. 

He shook his head. 

“No, me neither... Except myself. With this. I’m not saying it’s guaranteed but she knows how to get the job done, y’know?” 

“Huh.” 

He took it from you, examining it as if he could learn its secrets from looks alone.  

“It’s a suction toy,” you clarified. “Works on the clit. Sucks. Hard. Not entirely sure what you might get out of it, but y’know, if you want to give it a try...”  

You laughed, feeling a little heat on your cheeks. It was both exceptionally weird and very not weird to be talking to Changbin like this.  

“Isn’t that weird?” he asked, looking at the toy in his hand like it was a live grenade. “To use your sex toys?” 

You shrugged. 

“They’re clean if that’s what you mean.” 

“Wasn’t suggesting they aren’t. It’s just... Isn’t that kind of intimate?” 

You hadn’t thought about it before, but he had a point. And the more you thought about it, the more intimate it seemed. These toys, all of them, had been used on you, had brought you to climax over and over again in the time you’d owned them. They knew your secrets; you were exposing your secrets to Changbin by even showing them to him. If he used them, too? A shiver like ice water slipped down your spine.  

But he was the one who had previously suggested you have sex. This was less intimate than that, right? 

You shrugged. 

“It’s just a thing, really,” you replied, even though it wasn’t at all what you thought. You moved the conversation on quickly. “I guess you’re not interested in butt plugs if you don-” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

You looked at his face but he was looking at the spread on your bed, his eyes roving across the row of plugs on the right.  

“Ever used one?” you ventured, a little tentatively, not sure if it would constitute a slight to suggest he had or hadn’t.  

He shook his head and you noticed the tips of his ears redden. 

“I probably don’t need to tell you to go careful,” you began, taking a few of the options away, the ones that were too big, a little too intimidating for a first-timer. “But you should go careful. Start small, start smooth. And never, ever insert anything without a ba-” 

“Yeah, I know!” 

His ears were redder now. He still had your suction toy in his hand and you could see how tightly his fist was clenched around it. It confused you because Changbin couldn’t possibly be that embarrassed. Could he? 

Silence fell and you weren’t sure what to say. Should you tell him which one to pick? Did you have to advise him how to use it? How could you do that when you had no idea the sort of things he liked? You wiggled your toes in your socks and tipped up lightly onto them before bringing your heels back down. 

“Ok,” you began slowly when it was clear he wasn’t going to speak. You picked up a little purple plug, soft silicone, bubbles of increasing size. You handed it to him and shrugged. “Give something like that a try. See how you like it.” 

Changbin didn’t look at you. He looked at the plug. He put the suction toy back down on the bed and continued to look at the small, beaded rod in his hand. 

“Uh,” you continued. “Ever used a cock ring?”  

He let out a comically enraged cry and stalked from your bedroom. 

“Bye!” he called, not looking back as he pulled open your front door and let it slam shut behind him. 

“Hey!” you shouted after him, catching his arm just as he walked out your front door.  

He stopped and turned. 

“You know the internet exists, right? Wouldn’t that have been less embarrassing than coming here and asking me?” 

He scowled, let out another anguished shout and stalked off. 

You laughed because you had to laugh, because he could have just used the internet—it would have been quicker, easier, less embarrassing, and probably more helpful. But he didn’t. He came to you and asked for your secrets. You didn’t know what that meant.  

There were nerves fluttering in your stomach that made you feel awkward and self-conscious. It felt like a line had been crossed somewhere. Not a bad line? But a line nonetheless.  

You returned to your bedroom and surveyed your collection left on your bed and wondered if you might take a few for a spin yourself. You decided not to. Changbin was in your head and if there was one person in the world you did not want to be thinking about, it was him.  

* * * 

You tried not to think about it anymore. Sex. Changbin. Any thoughts that involved either sex or Changbin. Nothing that strayed into that territory. It was a hornet’s nest, you’d decided. Nothing good could come from opening that can of worms. He could use each and every single one of your toys if he wanted but not your body. No. No. Nope. 

But you were having trouble focusing your mind. You were ovulating and this month in particular was being a real fucker. Your body was punishing you for being single. It was sick and tired of preparing a baby house and having you not put a baby in it. It was doing its damnedest this month to make it happen. 

You were out of your mind horny.  

You were beginning to sympathise with Changbin. You were, unfortunately and no matter how much you tried not to, thinking about his offer. His request. You were thinking about doing him, and yourself, that favour he’d asked.  

It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It could be good. He’d made some fair points. And you were curious now, you had to admit. You’d not, before this whole fake-dating thing, given much thought to how Changbin fucked, but your curiosity had been piqued. You hadn’t had your butt plug returned and you could only assume that meant he was enjoying it, though he hadn’t confirmed either way. You wondered if you could entice him to spice things up a little more. You wondered what he did. What he sounded like. What he- 

“Fuck!”  

You slammed your hands down on your desk and took a deep breath. You were not supposed to be thinking about this. You were supposed to be—you moved your mouse to wake your monitor—creating yet another tedious spreadsheet.  

You: you working rn? 

Bin: no. gym 

You: later? 

Bin: come over after work 

‘Oh good’, you thought to yourself sourly, ‘that gives me four more hours of this. I’ve got to stew on this for four fucking hours before I can even broach the topic.’ 

The thought made you sick. You didn’t examine why. You worked for five more minutes, messaged your manager to say you weren’t feeling well and logged off.  

Then you left your apartment and went down to the gym. 

* * * 

You were having a great day. A fantastic day, in fact. That was what you were telling yourself. Because you were about to hit a new deadlift PR and that made it fantastic, as long as you ignored everything else going on in your life. Which is exactly what you were doing. 

You were looking down at the bar on the floor, heavily loaded, and you were talking to it nicely. You were a team: you, the bar, the weights on either end of it. You were a team, and you were going to do this thing together.  

You took a deep breath, taking no notice of the guy a few metres away who was watching you. You didn’t care about him. You never cared about men in the gym because the gym was yours. And no two-bit, ’roided-out gym bro was ever going to put you off your stride. And certainly not today. Let him watch. You’d show him.  

You adjusted your feet and shook out your hands before placing them on the bar. You favoured a mixed grip. You got into position, took a breath in, braced your core, and lifted.  

It flew. 

This was not a weightlifting gym, or anything close to that; it was the gym in your apartment building that came ‘free’ with your exorbitant rent, so you had to carefully lower the weights back to the floor. Then you allowed yourself a loud, crowing whoop and a double fist-pump. 

You stood straight, victorious, not even trying to hide the grin on your face and, when you tuned back into the world, the man who had been watching you was clapping. You whipped around to face him, assuming the worst, assuming he was patronising you or mocking you, but he grinned brightly at you. 

“PR?” he asked.  

You nodded dumbly.  

“Nice one. Congrats. You made it look easy.” 

He smiled and nodded once at you and then turned back to his own workout: a push day, it looked like, as he sat down on an inclined bench and lifted two enormous dumbbells to his shoulders. 

Huh. 

That was nice. You didn’t have many nice interactions with men at the gym. Men like him anyway. He was big, hulking, probably bulking given the softness of his skin on his arms, the fit of his tight T-shirt. You’d noticed him before, once or twice; he must live in the building to be using the gym but there were hundreds of people living here so that didn’t help much. He lifted heavy and kept to himself. That was really all you knew. 

It distracted you somewhat from your victory, this guy. This nice guy who might actually have been normal. You turned back to the bar and tried to get back in the zone, remember just what you were doing. But that had been it. You were going to PR the fuck out of this lift and then stretch yourself into oblivion.  

It was only when you were moving to the free area, walking past him, that you realised you hadn’t responded when he congratulated you. 

“Thanks, by the way,” you said as you passed, timing it carefully so you wouldn’t take him by surprise with 20 kilos above his head.  

He smiled again. 

“You’re welcome. You’re not trying for more?”  

He nodded to rack, where you’d put everything away. You shook your head. 

“Quitting while I’m ahead.” 

“Well, you really did make it look easy. I reckon you’ve got more in you.” 

He meant with regards to deadlifting. He meant he thought you could probably take another five kilos, or maybe even ten, but it was exactly the sort of thing you needed to hear at that moment and a lump formed in your throat. It took you off-guard and you felt your cheeks heat. You just nodded and moved quickly to the floor where you put yourself in child’s pose to hide your face.  

You focused on counting your breaths and moving slowly between stretches. You didn’t look his way again when you left. You returned home, sat heavily on your sofa and cried. 

* 

That had been your first interaction with Changbin. And for a while it was your only interaction. Your workouts didn’t overlap and you didn’t see him in the corridors. 

Then you walked into the gym on a grey, cold November morning, barely awake and not looking forward to exercise. There were a few others there already: a much older man walking slowly on the treadmill, a very bendy woman working through some yoga on the mats, and that guy. The one from your deadlift PR.  

You were pleased to see him, though you couldn’t have said why. He had, technically, made you cry. Even though it wasn’t anything at all to do with him and everything to do with your relationship falling apart around you and your self-worth being at rock bottom and your absolute desperate need for a win, even a tiny win, anything.  

Still, it was nice to see him again.  

You took to a treadmill to try to shake off your sleep and then moved slowly through an upper body workout. Everyone always said they hated leg day but you? You hated arms; you hated chest; you hated back and shoulders; you hated pushing and pulling. What you wouldn’t have given for squats that frosty morning.  

You had just placed your dumbbell onto the floor with an unforgiving thud, setting your timer for a 30-second rest when he approached you.  

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” he began, and he did sound it, “do you have just a minute to spot me?” 

You couldn’t answer immediately. You? He wanted you to spot him? He could probably bench you; how on earth would you be any good to him? 

“Me?” you asked. “Are you... sure?” 

He just looked towards the old man on the treadmill (yoga woman was already finished and out of the gym) and shrugged. You giggled and stood. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

“Thank you!” 

You followed him to the squat rack and tried to do your quickest maths to calculate the weight he was attempting. You grimaced internally; that would break your fucking back. But you didn’t want to make him feel nervous or to knock any of his confidence, so you pretended you were confident, too, offering up your arms as he lodged himself beneath the bar. You kept your hands hovering as he stepped back, as he lowered, as he pushed up.... It was shaky and slow and you were genuinely worried for a second that you would have to really do something, but he made it. He took two steps forward, dumped the bar on the rack and let out a cry that was far too loud for the hour.  

You laughed. 

“PR?” 

He grinned. 

“You know it.” 

“I wish I could say you made it look easy but...” 

He laughed, properly laughed, and shook his head. 

“Why are you trying to ruin this moment for me?” 

You laughed in return and introduced yourself. 

“I’m Miki.” 

“Changbin,” he offered in return, holding his hand out for you to shake. 

* 

And that had been that. Somehow, though you didn’t quite know how, your workouts began to coincide more and more; you began to chat between sets; he continued to ask you to spot him despite knowing that you could do no such thing. Then one day you asked him to hang out outside the gym.  

Now you couldn’t shake him. Even if you’d wanted to. Which you didn’t. Never had.  

* * * 

You could literally feel yourself salivate as you watched him lift and you could not believe yourself to be such a basic, animal being. Humans were supposed to be above all that ‘in heat’ stuff, but apparently you weren’t. You were watching him—leg day, beautiful leg day—deadlift, watching him hinge, watching the tension on his face, the pump in his quads.... You had officially crossed the line into creepy, but you couldn’t help it. 

You were hot. Literally, physically too warm.  

“Binnie!” you shouted, striding across the room to him. It had slipped out, the first time in two months you’d referred to him as something other than ‘Changbin’. You didn’t even notice. 

He looked at you, confused. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Couldn’t wait until tonight. I need to talk to you.” 

“Is everything ok?” 

You shrugged, as if this was casual. As if you were about to say something normal to him. 

“Everything’s fine, but...” You scanned the room to make sure it was empty. “Look, I’m here to take you up on your offer.” 

The confusion did not leave his face. 

“Offer?” 

You shrugged again. 

“Favour, request, whatever. I want to have sex.” 

His mouth dropped open and he blinked twice before his brows furrowed again. 

“What?” 

“You heard! I want to have sex!” You whispered it, hissed it even, despite the empty room. It was embarrassing to be asking. 

“Ok,” Changbin shrugged. 

You had been expecting a fight, you now realised. You had thought he would protest a little – not necessarily against the sex itself but the fact that he had already asked and you’d turned him down. You thought his ego might make him string it out a little, make you work for it.  

“Ok, so are you finished here?” 

There was the surprise you were after. 

“Now?” 

“Yes, now!” 

“I’m- I’m at the gym!” 

“So finish.” 

“Well, I...” 

“I’ll wait if you really haven’t finished your workout.” 

Taken aback by the turn of events, Changbin looked a little dazed and nodded. 

“I only have a couple of sets left,” he said and you nodded. 

“Cool, I’ll wait for you upstairs. My place?” 

He shrugged, looking as if he had no idea what the right answer was.  

But it had to be your place. It had to be on your ground, not for a home advantage but... something like that. Somewhere you felt in control. Somewhere you felt comfortable. Somewhere you knew exactly what your bed was like and where the condoms were.  

You decided to take the stairs, initially, because you had energy to burn. Then you realised that tiring yourself before the sex was an even stupider idea than the sex itself, so you opened the door at the top of the next flight of stairs and used the lift.  

Bin: gonna shower. Be there in 15? 

You: no come now. 

Bin: ??? 

You: what? 

Bin: I'm sweaty 

You: so? 

When he didn’t reply again, you assumed he was ignoring you and showering anyway, but then you heard the beep of your keypad and the door opened.  

“Can I just ask,” he began, no greeting, “before we do this... What the fuck has got into you?” 

“What?” 

“You were not exactly up for it when I asked about it and now you’re skipping work to fuck me? You’re not even letting me shower?” 

Your face heated with embarrassment, but the mere fact that you were asking for this gave the game away anyway, so was there really any shame in it? 

“I’m ovulating,” you stated, as if that would explain it.  

It would, to you. Possibly to anyone else who menstruated. Changbin looked at you wild-eyed. 

“Uh...” 

You saw his hands just barely raise at his sides, his right foot stepping backwards as if he were trying to surreptitiously retreat. 

“I’m not trying to get pregnant, you moron! I’m ovulating and that means I am out of my fucking mind with- with wanting to get laid! I am desperate.” 

“Well, you sure know how to make a man feel desired.” 

“Oh, shut up. You know the situation we’re in and you said as much to me last time: there is no one else we can fuck right now, but if I don’t fuck someone, I’m going to lose my mind.” 

“What happened to your arsenal of toys?” 

“Not the same and you know it. I just need to be fucked right now. I am desperate; don’t make me say it again!”  

You couldn’t help the impatience and frustration in your tone and you knew it wasn’t sexy, wasn’t encouraging, but there was nothing you could do about it. You were beyond help of any kind other than his cock stuffed inside you. It just happened to make you a little less nice.  

“Don’t shout at me! It’s no wonder you’re single if this is how you proposition men!” 

“This is not how I proposition men! You propositioned me first! I’m just taking you up on it!” 

“Well I’m not going to do it if you’re going to look that fucking angry the whole time!” 

“I’m not angry; I’m frustrated!” 

“Potayto, po-fucking-tah-to!” 

“Are we doing this or not?!” 

Changbin didn’t answer immediately and you swore to yourself that, if he said no, you would be fine with it. You would not explode and die right there on the floor of your living room. And you would not hate him forever. 

He jabbed a finger at you. 

“We’re doing this but you have to not be a total cunt to me the whole time.” 

You decided not to hesitate. You didn’t have the patience for taking it slow anyway but one of you had to be decisive; it would be awkward if there was hesitation and stumbling and embarrassment. He had just confirmed his agreement. He had said you were doing it. So you had to do it. Do the damn thing. You grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him towards you, crashing your lips into his.  

It was nothing like the first kiss. That was gentle and short and chaste and this was everything but. Before you’d snaked your tongue into his mouth, he had hoisted you in the air. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried you to the sofa and lay you down. He moaned when you sucked at his tongue and you moaned back, your hands already pulling his shirt up his chest.  

His skin was damp and sticky with sweat, salty when you put your mouth on it. You didn’t care. You liked the soft animal of his body, liked its power, liked the way it was firm under your hands, unyielding. Liked the way he could so easily have his way with you if he wanted; it’s not like you were weak yourself but Changbin was stronger and you knew you couldn’t take him in a fight. You wanted that. You wanted all that used against you right now. Not to fight but to fuck. You wanted him to fuck you so hard, you couldn’t stand. You could already feel the intense ache in your core as it radiated heat. You needed to be touched. So badly. Now that it was actually happening, you couldn’t believe you had let yourself go so long without it.  

“Binnie,” you panted, clutching the waistband of your trousers, shuffling them down, trying to discard them. “Binnie, touch me, please.” 

He responded with a nip to the delicate skin of your neck and a hand sliding down your stomach.  

“Fucking hell,” he breathed when his fingers found your wet slit. “You weren’t kidding.” 

“What?” 

“You are desperate.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Changbin,” you spat, with perhaps too much bite. 

His fingers withdrew and he leant up on his hands, looking down at you with his brows raised. 

“You can’t ask me to touch you and then speak to me like that when I do.”  

You rolled your eyes and gave him a simpering smile. 

“Aw, does Binnie not like it when I’m not nice to him? Oh, poor Binnie,” you cooed in a baby voice. “Does Binnie like praise, huh? Want me to praise you?” 

His face hardened but he didn’t tell you it was over, that if you were going to behave like that, he’d change his mind. He didn’t say anything and you knew it was because you were right but he didn’t want to tell you. That was one benefit of sleeping with someone you knew so well. You could read him. You didn’t need him to confirm.  

But you also weren’t great at being nice. Praise was not a thing that came naturally to you. And he had said you weren’t allowed to be a total cunt to him. That was fair. You rolled your eyes. 

“Fine, I’ll be nice,” you huffed. “Promise.”  

It was Changbin who rolled his eyes then and looked as if he didn’t believe you but didn’t care either way. He lowered himself down and brought his lips to yours.  

His kiss swallowed the loud sound you made when his fingers found their way south and made their entrance. It had been too long since someone else had got you off. Way too long. You knew it from the way your walls were already spasming, your muscles tightening, your breath catching. 

“Harder,” you gasped when he let your mouth go. “Harder, faster, please.”  

There was a minute pause in which he registered your instruction and then he complied, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Seriously,” you continued. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I want more.”  

His eyes met yours and when he raised his brows this time, your stomach swooped; it was dark and promising and there was something in his eyes that said he was going to give you everything you wanted. 

He slid another finger inside you and drew back so he could focus his other hand on your swollen clit.  

You couldn’t speak. You whimpered and keened and nodded; you clutched at Changbin’s arm and the sofa cushion; you arched your back and drew your feet in. You came with a loud cry and your body flopped backwards, your chest heaving as you got your breath back, your body shaking just a little. 

“Thanks,” you panted. 

Changbin laughed. 

“You’re welcome.” 

You pulled him closer, slipping a hand around the back of his neck to bring your face to his, to kiss him, hard, deep, indulgent.  

“Where do you keep condoms?” he broke away to ask and your mind was still dazed enough that it took you a second. You shook your head, tried to clear it, and pointed into your bathroom. Changbin moved off you and you stumbled as you got to your feet. He was rising as if to go himself, but you waved him off, sat him back down.  

The few steps between him and the bathroom gave you a second to catch your breath, to anticipate what was about to happen with a buzzing kind of glee wailing in your head (and elsewhere). You felt greedy. Insatiable. You wanted to take an entire box of condoms out there and use them all. You wanted to break yourself on him, break him, until there was nothing left of you but dust.  

You took one foil packet from the box and returned to Changbin who was still standing next to the sofa, waiting for you. His black shorts hid the damp spots of pre-cum but couldn’t hide the tent of his erection. You felt your mouth water at the thought of it. An icy streak of doubt passed through you when you realised you’d never seen it before. Never had cause to give it any thought at all. What if it was disappointing?  

Then Changbin dropped his shorts and his boxers, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.  

“Thank god,” you muttered under your breath, not intending for him to hear, but he cocked his head at you. 

“For what?” 

You snorted. 

“Thank god you have a nice dick.” 

He laughed and you could almost see his pride swell in the way he tucked his shoulders back and raised his head a little, the ever so slightly bashful grin that nevertheless carried a certain smugness. You had never known how he did that: vulnerability and arrogance at the same time. But then again, he was a Leo. 

You wasted no more time. You pushed him back onto the sofa, tore open the condom packet, and rolled it down his length. You held his cock as you positioned yourself over him, making yourself sink slowly. Making yourself take him inch by inch not all at once, because you would never get this first time again and you wanted to savour it. You wanted to remember exactly how he felt, his girth stretching you in a way that bordered on but didn’t cause pain.  

When he was fully sheathed, you sat your full weight on him and took his face in your hands. You kissed him, sloppy and wet and full of tongue, then slowly began to roll your hips. He groaned, squeezed at your glutes, tipped his head back and sighed. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing.”  

You nodded, but he had his eyes closed, and you remembered just exactly who it was you were dealing with.  

“You, too,” you replied. You tucked your face into his neck and keened as you adjusted your angle. You didn’t really talk much, usually. Weren’t sure what to say. Knew you had to say something. You kissed his neck to buy some time, sucking a bruise into his soft skin, tasting the salty tang of his sweat. “Fuck, Binnie,” you whispered. “So good.”  

Lame. But you didn’t have the headspace to dwell on it because it was so good. He fit you just right; you were tight and wet and hot and your legs trembled every time the head of his cock squeezed past your g-spot.  

“I’m gonna flip you,” he grunted, having noticed it, feeling the clench in your walls with each pass.  

Then without another second’s delay, he did, and you were on your back and he was drilling into you with hard, precise thrusts of his hips. You let your head tip back and your mouth hang open, just as he had only moments earlier.  

“More,” you murmured as you felt you lose yourself to it. To him. To the pleasure of it all, the pressure building, coiling like a spring. This was exactly what you had wanted. Needed. The relief of it was breath-taking and that was before the orgasm hit you.  

Then it slammed into you like a train on a track and you cried out. Your eyes squeezed shut and your muscles tensed hard and your cunt clenched tight around Changbin’s thick length. He grunted, he gasped, he cried out, too, spilling into the condom and letting the tension in his body go, just enough to relax, but not so much to crush you.  

When you opened your eyes, stars danced in front of them, the ceiling of your apartment temporarily transformed into a night-sky kaleidoscope. You brushed the hair from Changbin’s face. 

“Relax, Bin, you can’t crush me.” 

He snorted lightly and let himself put his weight onto you.  

Maybe he could crush you. But you could take it. For a moment at least.  

“Thank you,” he said, his breath coming in heavy gasps, his stomach pushing against yours with each inhale.  

You laughed breathily, your lungs buried under his weight, trapped. 

“You’re welcome.” 

He lifted his head and the look on his face was hesitant, possibly even a little shy, but you knew what he wanted because you wanted it too. You drew his face to yours and kissed him, soft and sweet, then a little less, then a little deeper, with a little more urgency, your tongue dancing with his, his teeth biting down on your lips, little moans escaping the both of you.  

It lasted longer than you had intended. So long that you wanted to go again, that you’d recovered enough to want him some more, to want seconds and even thirds. The box of condoms in your bathroom cabinet sprung into your mind and your heart quickened.  

“Hey,” you said quietly, holding his face back from yours so you could look in his eyes. “Do you want to do that again?” 

It took a second for your words to register and he didn’t reply except to bring his lips to yours once more. He twisted his body so he could rest on his forearms above you, then he put his weight onto his left side, his right hand trailing down your body as he kissed you.  

* 

“Ok, now I really have to shower,” Changbin said, standing from the sofa with a long, tired groan.  

“You can shower here if you want,” you said, twisting around to watch him get dressed.  

He smiled but shook his head.  

“No way. I’ve never known a single person who takes less care of their skin than you do. Your soap would strip me like paint thinner.” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. 

“Whatever. My skin is just naturally soft.” 

Changbin chuckled. 

“You keep telling yourself that, babe.”  

You rose, too, as he reached the door and, without realising it was happening, he turned with his hand on the doorknob and you kissed goodbye. It wasn’t until the door was shutting after him that you realised it had happened. Was that weird?  

You didn’t have the energy for it. You showered quickly and flopped onto your sofa for an ill-advised, late-afternoon, post-coital nap. 

* * * 

The next morning, you woke late and rushed through your morning workout, your morning shower, your breakfast, and hurried out of the door to the office. You made yourself a coffee, logged into everything, and then sat staring blankly at your inbox.  

You had sex with Changbin. Twice. You hadn’t given it enough thought yesterday—not after and certainly not before. But that was crossing a line, right? Sex changed things. You had put him off the first time because you thought it would make things weird, that it would be weird. 

But it hadn’t been. It wasn’t awkward or embarrassing. It was good. So good you’d asked for it again. So good that you could still feel it in your body as you twisted vacantly from side to side on your chair. It had been good for him, too, right? He had been vocal (that much you had expected) but was that acting? 

He had been a very convincing fake boyfriend so far. Maybe it had just been a continuation of the act. 

Except it had been his idea. In the first place, anyway.  

You could feel yourself getting tangled up in knots, so you had a stern word with yourself and set up blocks on your phone so that you might be able to focus better.  

* 

The frustrating thing about it was that you couldn’t talk to anyone. You couldn’t go to any of your friends and say ‘oh my god, I slept with Changbin’ because, as far as they were concerned, you’d been sleeping together for weeks—months!—now. It couldn’t be new, couldn’t be news.  

You stopped at the shop on the way home for a bottle of wine, then you took it two floors beyond your apartment and let yourself in. 

Changbin was on his sofa, shaking a protein drink in a plastic bottle. He looked surprised to see you. 

“Look,” you began immediately, plonking the bottle onto the coffee table and retrieving two glasses from his kitchen cupboard. You placed these on the table and poured a generous glug of wine into each. “I have to talk to you and you are just going to have to go with it because I cannot talk to anyone else about this, alright?” 

“Ok.” 

You took a deep breath and blew it out sharply. 

“I slept with Changbin.” 

His eyes narrowed and he looked from side to side and back to you. 

“Uh... You know I’m Changbin, right? That’s me.” 

“Yes, I know!” you shouted, flinging your hands up, sloshing wine over the rim and onto your trousers. “But I can’t tell anyone else, can I? Because then they would know we haven’t been sleeping together! So you are the only person I can talk to! Just go with it.” Then, to let him know you actually really needed this, you added, “please.” 

“Ok.” 

“I slept with Changbin,” you repeated. 

“Right,” he started, and you could tell he wasn’t quite sure what response was the right one. “Uh, how was it?” 

“Honestly, really fucking good.” 

He grinned, his proud ego shining through, and you slapped him hard on the arm. 

“Shut up!” you hissed, even though he hadn’t said anything. “I’m saying it was good.” 

“And that’s... bad?” 

“No! ... I don’t know! I don’t know anything! Isn’t it weird? Why did we do it? Why wasn’t it weird?! Aren’t you confused?!” 

Changbin looked away for a moment and thought it over.  

“I’m not confused.”  

“You aren’t?”  

He shrugged.  

“Should I be?” 

“It doesn’t affect you at all that we slept together?” 

“Does it affect you? Affect you how?” 

“I don’t know!” you wailed.  

“It’s like I said before, we’re pretending to be dating so we can’t sleep with anyone else. It’s, what did I call it? Stress relief.” 

“You also said you were too horny to care if it was weird, but now we’ve had sex, so the... the pressure is gone, right? As in... We’ve had relief... Does that change things?” 

He shrugged again and it lit a match of frustration within you. 

“Changbin! For fuck’s sake, stop shrugging! Stop being so unbothered by this!” 

“Why do you want me to be bothered?! It sounds like you want it to be weird, to come between us, or ruin our friendship or something!-” 

“-Of course I don’t!” 

“Then why are you here insisting things have to change?” 

“I don’t know!”  

A loud thumping from the apartment next door broke the tension and you both slumped back on the sofa. You would have to stop shouting if you were going to continue this conversation because Changbin had lived here long enough for you know that that was a polite warning call.  

“If it’s made you feel uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it again,” Changbin said, his voice softer now, quieter. 

“I’m not uncomfortable. I could never be uncomfortable with you. It just... I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it. You’re right. It was just sex. And we’re just friends.” 

“Exactly.”  

“Ok.” 

You drained your wine glass and re-filled it, putting your feet up on the table as Changbin switched on the TV. He took a minute selecting something to watch (opting for a youtube video on the best mechanics of the Romanian deadlift which was not as boring as it sounds) and, once it was playing, he picked up his wine glass and asked, without looking at you. 

“But where does that leave us, exactly? Re: sex. Is it off the table?” 

You took a minute to think about it. You didn’t want to say no. Because you knew what it was like now. You knew what you’d be missing. And, if he was right, then it wouldn’t change anything between you. You could have it all. But saying yes still felt like saying something. And you weren’t sure exactly what.  

“It’s not off the table,” you answered quietly, your glass perched on your lips so you could take a drink as soon as the sentence ended. You took a gulp larger than you’d intended and tried not to choke.  

“Ok, then.”  

* * * 

It was so not off the table. It was so on the table that it almost became a permanent fixture. It seemed silly not to. You couldn’t sleep with anyone else while you were pretending to date each other and the seal was well and truly broken. It didn’t feel as though you had anything to lose, not since it became clear that it didn’t change things between you. 

If anything, it made things better.  

It was as if a barrier that you hadn’t known existed between you had dissolved. Pretending to be his girlfriend was so much easier now. You’d always felt awkward about the physicality of it: having to hold his hand, make sure you were near him, the occasional jeering pressure to kiss in front of people as if you had something to prove to them. It was easy now because you’d touched far more than just his hands, kissed him in ways that would be indecent viewed by an audience.  

“You guys seem good,” Chaeyong commented lightly from across the table.  

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

“Uh, we do?” 

“When did we seem bad?” Changbin asked at the same time. 

“Honestly, no one had any hope of the two of you making it,” Seungmin added. “You were always so weird with each other. We thought you might have broken up but didn’t want to tell people or something.” 

You and Changbin exchanged a quick glance and you tried not to make it obvious when you gulped and found the inside of your lip between your teeth.  

“You mean you think we were pretending to date?” Changbin asked, thoroughly convincing in his bemused scorn.  

“Fuck knows! But something was going on, for sure.” 

“But you seem normal now.” Chaeyoung smiled sweetly and she looked innocent but, truthfully, she had been your biggest concern: nothing got past her and you were worried that she was still unconvinced.  

“Gee, thanks.” 

Thank god for Changbin, who was unflappable in the face of his own deceptions.  

“We’re saying we’re happy for you, idiots,” Seungmin offered with a withering glare before turning to his other side, where apparently the conversation was of greater interest.  

You turned to Changbin with a slyly triumphant smile on your face, which he returned exactly. You didn’t stop yourself leaning forward to kiss him and he didn’t stop you either.  

* * * 

For the first few weeks of your ‘relationship’, you had genuinely spent time and effort trying to think of a way for the two of you to end it. None seemed satisfactory. You weren’t really an experienced liar (not to this extent) and they all seemed transparent, lame, obviously made-up. It was as if you had never experienced any sort of relationship before because you just couldn’t think of a reasonable way for you and Changbin to stop dating. 

Frustrated by your lack of progress on the topic, you thought of it less and less often. Then you and Changbin started sleeping together and you stopped thinking about it altogether. This situation was working out quite nicely for the both of you. All the fun parts of a relationship with none of the drawbacks.  

You were enjoying it so much, you were annoyed you hadn’t thought of it before. And it seemed like the feeling was mutual. Changbin hadn’t raised the topic of your break-up; he still called your pet names and kissed you in public.  

You had been sure, when you first suggested it, that it would be a disaster. But your desperation to get one over on your sister had been just enough to override that worry. Now, you were certain it was the best idea you’d ever had, and you were very nearly grateful to Hani for forcing it.  

“Hey,” Changbin said softly, catching your hand and dragging you away from the group.  

It was summer and the river park was busy. You had amassed a greater group of people than you’d expected – word going around to friends of friends of friends – and your absence from it would not be noticed quickly.  

Not that anyone would care if they did notice. You were a couple now; you were allowed to disappear by yourselves. 

“Have you met Sakura?” he asked.  

“Uh, yeah, Felix’s friend, right?” 

He nodded. 

“Yeah, I mean, we met today. I don’t know her. Why?” 

“She asked me out.” 

“What?! Doesn’t she know you have a girlfriend?” 

It shouldn’t have bothered you. Because you weren’t his girlfriend, not really. You didn’t have any real claim to him. In fact, this should probably have happened before now, you told yourself. Changbin was a catch; he was hot and fun and kind and, frankly, anyone would be fucking lucky to have him.  

But you had him. As far as anyone knew anyway. Hadn’t you literally been introduced to Sakura as his girlfriend earlier that day? Where the fuck did she get off asking out your boyfriend? 

Changbin shrugged again and you felt your hackles raise. 

“I guess she forgot? I don’t know.” 

“Well, why are you bringing it up to me? Obviously you said no.” 

“I said no.” 

“So why bother telling me? Are you saying you want to go out with her?” 

“I was just checking whether or not I’d ever be allowed to go out with anyone again. Y’know, if you were ever going to end this thing like you promised you would months ago?” 

You started. He hadn’t brought that up for ages. You hadn’t thought about it. You felt strongly that you should not admit to not having thought about it.  

“Of course, I’m going to end it,” you hissed. “Want me to do it right now so you can go over and tell Sakura you’ve changed your mind?” 

“Don’t overreact, Miki. This was always going to end. You specifically promised me that it would, in fact.” 

“And it will! I actually thought we were both ok with things as they were, since we’re both getting something from it, but fine. I’ll have your break-up ready for you tomorrow.” 

You didn’t wait for a response. You stalked off, too angry to notice that you were leaving your phone and your bag and everything else in the park. Too angry to turn back when you did notice. You walked, with heavy, angry footsteps, for a mile or two in the direction of your apartment which was still several miles away. Then you stopped and stood and didn’t know what to do. Your heart was still pounding, your breath coming heavily because you did not commit yourself to cardio in the way you did to lifting, and you were still shaky with anger.  

You could not turn back. The horror of the embarrassment you would feel having to return after storming off was too strong. But you couldn’t walk all the way home. You weren’t even sure exactly which way to go, having never done the journey fully on foot before. You were stranded. You knew your only option was the river. But you decided you would rather die than go back there. You would rather sleep on the street than show your face.  

You continued to stand there, waiting for your anger to fade, to be replaced by worry and, yes, embarrassment. You tried to guess what time everyone would start leaving. It was still light (such was the curse of the summer months) so it was entirely possible that some would stay late into the evening, the night even. You couldn’t stand out on the street for that long.  

“Hey.” 

You whipped around at the sound of his voice. He was five feet away. 

“What do you want?”  

You could see him biting his tongue, being the bigger person.  

“Thought you might you need this,” Changbin said, holding out your bag. 

“Whatever,” you replied, neither turning away nor reaching out for it. 

“Well, if you don’t want it...” 

He went to turn, to walk back the way he had come, but you snatched your bag from his hand. Before he could react, you put your feet to asphalt, as quickly as you could without running. 

“You’re fucking welcome!” he shouted after you. 

You were seething again, your stomach roiling, your blood boiling, sweat pricking in your hair. You walked to the nearest subway station in a kind of red haze, barely aware of your surroundings, cognisant only of your own body and its rage.  

* 

He didn’t call you the next day. 

Or the next day. 

Or the one after that.  

You wondered if that was it. If that would do it. Break you up. Was it already over? The thought pained you, but you were still angry with him. He had pulled you aside to tell you that another woman was interested in him; he had suggested he was interested in her. But he was supposed to be yours.  

He wasn’t yours. You repeated it to yourself, knowing that it should help, that it should make it not hurt, that it should make you not angry with him, that it was the truth. But it didn’t work. You couldn’t make it go away.  

He didn’t call you for a full week and you were scowling at lunch with your sister and her husband, your parents, too. Chan asked if he could speak with you. It shook you from your sour stupor and you followed him without hesitation. 

“So what’s up with you and Changbin?” he asked, casually, as if he weren’t kicking a hornet’s nest. 

“Nothing,” came your sullen reply. 

“Ok... So what’s up with you and Changbin?” 

You scowled some more and kept your mouth shut. 

“There’s obviously something going on between the two of you, and he won’t tell me what it is so I’m asking you. It sucks to see you two like this. You know how happy Hani and I were about you two getting together....” 

If you hadn’t been so self-indulgent with your week-long bad mood, you might have sensed his tone, caught the micro-expressions on his face that were giving you an opening. But you had been self-indulgent, so you missed them all.  

“If he won’t tell you, I don’t see why I should.”  

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I thought I would ask you myself before I tell your sister.” 

He had your full attention now.  

“What do you mean tell my sister?” 

“I mean tell her that I’m worried that something has happened between the two of you. You’re fighting or not speaking or somethin-” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Because I know both of you? Changbin has been out of sorts all week and you have barely touched your food, barely uttered a word except to be as horrible to your sister as you’ve ever been.” 

Chan never told you off. He never told anyone off. You felt chastened and shamed but that only fuelled your anger.  

“Fine, I’ll go.” 

“That’s not what I said.” 

“I’m clearly not wanted here if I’m so horrible to your precious, little wife-” You saw the way his jaw clenched and you knew that he would kick you out himself if you said much more; it felt good, pushing that button. Made you feel like you had a little bit of control, a little bit of power. “As if I ever gave a shit about her anyway. I only come to these stupid lunches because my parents make me. I hate coming. I hate Hani. I hate you. And I fucking hate Changbin!” 

Chan said nothing. He looked at you with dark, furious eyes and took hold of your elbow. He escorted you carefully to the front door, waited while you put on your shoes, handed you your things, and shut the door firmly behind you.  

You wished you could scream. You immediately ordered a taxi and waited impatiently until you got home. Then you picked up your pillow, pressed it to your face and let rip. You raged until your head hurt and then you fell asleep on your sofa, waking in the small hours of the morning with a sore neck. You climbed into your bed and tossed and turned. You did not sleep. You refused to get up.  

When the sun was high in the sky and streaming into your apartment, there came a knock on the door. You thought for five seconds about ignoring it because you weren’t expecting and didn’t want to see anyone. Then you got up to answer it anyway. 

“So apparently you hate me,” he said in greeting.  

Changbin stood at your door. He didn’t let himself in. He knocked. He waited for you to open it.  

Then he said that, and you bit back before you could stop yourself. 

“Isn’t the feeling mutual?”  

Changbin sighed. Rolled his eyes. 

“Ok, let me know when you’ll stop being a cunt and maybe I’ll try again.” 

He walked away and you let him.  

* * * 

You kept waiting for him to come again. He didn’t. You waited for him to call or text. He didn’t. As time went on, you had assumed you would care less, get over it, stop being bothered by it. You didn’t. 

It had started to hurt. It began as a needling kind of pain, sharp but small. Then it began to grow and now you woke with a hole in your chest and bitterness in your heart.  

You thought about him all the time. What he must be telling people. You had refused to talk to anyone about it, refused to go out, shut yourself up in your poky apartment waiting for it all to go away.  

It didn’t. 

There was a knock on your door and you jumped, because it had to be Changbin. Because who else could get into the building? 

Your body physically withered at the sight of your sister. 

“How did you get in here?” you asked. 

“I know your building code, Miki. I know your door code, too, but I didn’t want to just barge in.” 

“Why not? You love barging in. You love poking your nose in where it’s not welcome.” 

Hani did not reply. She sat on your coffee table and gestured for you to take a seat opposite her on your sofa. 

“What do you want?” 

“I came to see if you wanted to talk about it.” 

“Talk about what?” 

Hani closed her eyes briefly and you knew she was rolling them beneath her lids. She was too polite to just do it outwardly, even though it was obvious how she felt.  

“You and Changbin haven’t been speaking much, huh?” 

“Fuck off, Hani.” 

“I know he misses you.” 

“You don’t know anything.” 

“I’m married to his best friend, M-” 

“I’m his best friend!” 

“Ok, ok, I’m married to one of his very close friends. Chan says he’s miserable and I know you are, too.” 

“You don’t know anything.” 

“I don’t know much, I’ll admit that, but that’s because you don’t tell me anything. Have you ever considered that I’d be less ‘fucking annoying’ if you ever let me in? If you ever volunteered information about yourself and your life? I don’t like being the person you think I am. I know you think I’m hen-pecking you, I’m a nag, I’m just like Mum and all the much less kind things you’ve said. But I’m not. You just think I am because you take every question as an attack; you think every inquiry is an interrogation.  

“You are the spikiest person I’ve ever met and the reason I was pushing the boyfriend thing with you is because you’ve got worse since you and-” 

“Don’t say his name-” 

“... Since the break-up. You were spiky before but now you’re mean and you’re bitter and miserable. And I know you want to be happy, so I pushed it. And then you got with Changbin and I was so happy. You were so happy. Now you’re going to ruin it all by being your-.” 

“That’s why I think you’re a cunt,” you interrupted. “I’m going to ruin my relationship by being myself? Thanks a fucking bunch.” 

“I was going to say you’re going to ruin it by being your worst self. Your scared self. Your angry, short-tempered self that lashes out at people. You have a soft centre, Miki, but you also have a moat full of spikes and a portcullis. You have thorns and a dragon guarding you.  

“But I saw the way you looked at Changbin and I haven’t seen you look like that for a long time. Even towards the end of your last relationship, you’d lost it. But you had it back. And I don’t want you to throw it away.” 

You didn’t reply because you didn’t have anything to say. You couldn’t argue with the truth, but you weren’t going to tell her she was right. You couldn’t take it.  

You’d spent your whole life feeling like the fuck up, the first pancake, compared to Hanbyeol and her ability to get everything right. She had one boyfriend before she went to university and they were sweet and innocent and didn’t even sleep together. Then she met Chan on her first day at university and they’d been together ever since. She graduated with a perfect degree and got a good job on a good career path and has been walking it ever since.  

You slept with your first boyfriend at the age of 15 and he promptly dumped you. You spent four years on an art degree that went fucking nowhere and did nothing for you. You’d had jobs and quit jobs and been fired from jobs; you’d dated and had partners and dumped them and been dumped by them. Nothing stuck.  

“You don’t know anything,” you mumbled sullenly back, your fire extinguished.  

“I would if you told me.” But she wasn’t chastising, wasn’t telling you off. She was just saying it, softly, gently now.  

“I don’t want to talk about it.”  

“That’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it with me if you don’t want. But you should talk to Changbin. He really does miss you. And I really don’t want you to miss out on what you had with him because you’re afraid or being stubborn. Sometimes you have to meet people halfway, Miki; it’s not fair to make him come to you every time.” 

She stood and left your apartment without another word. Your bottom lip wobbled.  

Was it too late? 

* 

You didn’t know where to start. How to start. What to do. Who to turn to. The only person you could talk about this with was Changbin because he was the only person who knew the truth. It wasn’t even a matter of your pride anymore; it would have felt like a betrayal to reveal the secret to anyone else. But you couldn’t just go to Changin, half-cocked, with nothing in your head but a jumble of half-formed sentences and no idea what you really wanted. 

You let another week go by. 

* 

The gym felt stuffy. You were sure the aircon wasn’t working properly because it should not have been that warm in there, even if it was over 30 degrees outside. You were dripping with sweat and  looking around, praying for chalk so you could dry your hands properly. You had given up on the barbell because you didn’t think you’d be able to grip it with such wet hands. You were miserable and grumpy, and the workout sucked. 

Then Changbin walked in.  

You felt sick. Your first instinct was to hide, but there was nowhere to hide. And he’d already seen you. Your eyes caught and he slowed to a stop, just looking at you. You had to make the first move. You knew you had to.  

You stood from the bench and walked towards him, crossing your heart and hoping to die that he wouldn’t walk away.  

“Hi,” you said, your voice small. 

“Hi,” he returned.  

You could barely look him in the eye. You hadn’t prepared for this. 

“It’s pretty unbearable in here, right now. I think the aircon is broken,” you offered, cursing yourself all the while. 

Changbin seemed surprised and he nodded with a small ‘oh’. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he said. “I wasn’t planning to be long anyway.” 

“Right. Yeah. Ok.” 

It was tugging at your heart, this need to say something, this inability to do so.  

Changbin waited only a few more seconds and then he pointed beyond you and began to move away. 

“Wait!” 

He stopped.  

“I... can we talk? Sometime. Not now. Later. I don’t know. I- I... We should talk.” 

You kept your eyes trained on the ground and could feel his gaze on you. He answered slowly. 

“Yeah, ok. Text me or something.” 

You nodded and scarpered, workout unfinished, but you reached the lift and breathed a sigh of relief. Had that been so bad? You’d survived. You were still in one piece. And he’d agreed to talk to you.  

Part of you wanted to go back and tell him, actually, it has to be now. You wanted to get it over with. Another part of you wanted it to never happen. You still didn’t know what you would say to him.  

* 

You stood, nervously, outside his apartment, waiting for your courage to build to a sufficient level for you to knock on his door. It was taking its sweet time. You weren’t sure if it would ever get there. Your palms were sweaty, the backs of your knees, too. You realised the last time you were this nervous to speak to someone was the day your last relationship ended and you stood outside your shared apartment, waiting for the courage to go in and end it. Have it ended for you. Not by you. You had certainly never been this nervous with Changbin: not the first time you went to your sister’s pretending to be together, not the first time you had sex. You had always felt comfortable with him. 

Now you didn’t. And that was on you. 

You closed your eyes, gritted your teeth, and knocked. The door opened almost instantly. 

“Oh. Hi. That was quick.” 

“I know; you’ve been out there for ages. I’ve been standing here waiting for you to knock.” 

“Oh.” 

Your face flamed so hot, it made your eyes sting. Changbin stood back and gestured you into his apartment. You waited for him to sit on the sofa and then you took your place on the floor, just off to the side. Somehow, you didn’t feel like you could sit equally next to him. You had apologies to make, grovelling to do.  

Changbin waited.  

“I’m sorry,” you offered first. The easiest thing to say because it covered all manner of your sins. 

“What for?” 

Less easy. 

“Everything,” you choked. “For making you pretend to be my boyfriend, for not breaking us up, for my short temper and impatience, for overreacting to the Sakura thing, for not speaking to you. All of it, really.” 

You heard him take a deep breath but didn’t dare look at him. The silence felt stiff. You couldn’t say anything more even if you’d wanted to. You needed to know what his response was first.  

He sighed. 

“They’re not the things I want you to be sorry for... I suppose I should apologise, too.” 

“What for?”  

You were struggling with the silence. If there was one word that could never describe you or Changbin, it was ‘quiet.’ You would have needed more hands to be able to count on fingers the number of noise complaints he’d received from his neighbours. It was never like this between the two of you. It was never awkward like this.  

“I don’t want to say it,” he said eventually. “I feel like shit and I don’t want to say it because I’ll feel even more like shit.” 

“I don’t want you to feel like shit.” 

“That’s how you’ve been treating me.” 

Tears pricked in your eyes and you did your best to swallow the anger that was rising with them. Your temper was the reason you were in this mess; it could not get you out of it. But Changbin continued before you could find a word to say. 

“I got it wrong, obviously. I thought it was going somewhere. Not at first, obviously. But something had changed and I thought, ok, maybe something is happening now. Maybe this... Maybe this could be real. Then it went on longer and longer and I realised how stupid I was to think that. Because you didn’t want anything more. That was clear. That was really clear and I should have seen it long before I did.” 

He sighed heavily and fell back against the sofa cushions. You risked a peek and saw him contemplate the ceiling. 

“I made the Sakura thing up.” 

“What?” 

“I made it up. Of course she didn’t ask me out! She had been introduced to us together. You were introduced as my girlfriend; why would she have then tried something? I just had to see how you’d react. I wanted to... test, I suppose, how you felt.” 

You took your time speaking because you could feel your rage simmering in your gut. You were trying so hard not to be angry, not to react. But he’d lied to you. Manipulated you. This was his fault and all this time you thought it was yours? Why would he do that? 

“Are you going to fucking say anything, Miki?” 

‘Yes,’ you thought, ‘just as soon as I can stop seeing red.’  

“I don’t understand.”  

The words were sharp in your throat, painfully clawing their way out. You could feel Changbin’s patience ebbing away, too, and the whole situation was as if you were dancing on a tightrope. You had thought it would be easy to straighten out: an apology, some reluctant forgiveness, a few jokes and things would be back to normal. Guess not. 

“It made me feel used.”  

His confession was small. Small and quiet so you knew it was real, that he wasn’t after a reaction or a fight. He was just telling you the truth. 

“Used?” 

“I was up for it, at first. I agreed, I didn’t have to but I did. I signed up for it. I know that. Pretending to be your boyfriend was fun to start with. Making you squirm. Though, to be honest, it wasn’t fun that you were so... disgusted by the idea of us being together. The way you flinched every time I touched you or looked nauseated half the time at the thought of us so much as kissing. That wasn’t exactly a balm to my ego. But I could take it. And you got used to it, I thought. Got less disgusted.  

“Then we started having sex and things changed. You changed. And I didn’t really know what it meant but I know you well enough that I knew not to push too hard. I guess I thought, at some point, you would come out and say it. But you didn’t. At all. Things carried on exactly as they were and I realised that’s what you wanted. You didn’t want me for anything more. You wanted to have sex and pretend we were together but you didn’t want to be together. You didn’t want me. You just wanted me to keep up your pretence to get one over on your sister; you wanted the convenience of, I don’t even know what. It was like you liked the idea of being with me but not the reality of it. And I got sick of it, ok?  

“That’s what made me feel like shit. That’s what made me feel used. And I know you; I knew you were never going to talk to me about it. So I made up the Sakura thing. I wanted a reaction from you. I wanted to see if you gave a shit at all.” 

You wanted him to continue, to say things so that you didn’t have to. Because you did give a shit. You were incensed that Sakura dared to ask him out. You were angry with him because you felt like he wanted to go out with her. You felt betrayed by it. Abandoned. Rejected. Surely that had been obvious by your reaction. Surely you didn’t have to say that now? 

Though you still weren’t sure what it meant. Hearing Changbin spell it all out like that: his hurt, the word ‘disgusted’, his hope, your inability to communicate being thrown in your face when you had hoped it was a secret. You didn’t want him to see you like that: inept and selfish and inconsiderate. Used. You had used him. Your first instinct had been to kick back at that, deny it vociferously, scream at Changbin and call him every name under the sun, storm out.  

But you weren’t doing that anymore. You weren’t going to let your temper ruin this. Again.  

Or you were trying.  

“Obviously I give a shit,” you said sullenly, a little sulkily despite your best efforts.  

“I don’t know.” 

“How can you say that you don’t know? Don’t you know me?” 

“Yeah, I know you but I’m really beginning to see the limits of my knowledge. I can’t know everything, Miki. I can’t read your mind. Sometimes you have to say things. Sometimes you have to say things even if the other person already knows them! Things need to be said. They need to be heard.”  

“What things?” 

“I don’t believe you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You could hear your voice rising but couldn’t stop it.  

“Yes, you do!” His was rising, too. “You know exactly what I’m saying and you know what I want you to say but you won’t say it and that’s the fucking problem, isn’t it?” 

You opened your mouth to argue back but he got in first. 

“Or you really, actually don’t know what I’m talking about and that, in itself, is a problem. Either way, you need to figure it out.” 

His tone was final. Conclusive. Dismissive. But you had only just got started so you weren’t going to leave just yet. 

“Why do I have to figure it out?” 

“Because it’s your problem!” 

“No, it’s not! You’re the one who lied about Sakura! You made this mess!” 

Changbin got to his feet. 

“I made this mess? This entire thing was your idea! I have followed your lead the entire time and you have led me down a fucking merry path! Do you kn-” 

“I’ve been leading?! You’re the one who suggested we have sex!” 

“You’re the one who took me up on it! And I’d never have suggested it if we weren’t trapped in a situation of your making!” 

“You didn’t have to go along with it!” 

“You asked me to! You’re my friend! Friends do each other favours! Of course I was going to say yes!” 

“I didn’t force you to!” 

“Friendship forced me, you idiot! But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you don’t understand that.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

You were interrupted by a knock at the door. Changbin answered and it was building security, here to offer up yet another warning regarding the noise. Changbin apologised, promised to keep it down and returned to the sofa. 

“Ball’s in your court,” he told you. “It’s up to you.” 

“What’s up to me?” 

You made the mistake of looking up at him and his glare could have turned you to stone.  

“Don’t act stupid, Miki. You figure it out.” 

You wanted to argue. You wanted to have this out right here, right now. Arguing cleared the air. You had been getting somewhere before his pathetic, meddling neighbours had gone and complained about the noise. Maybe you should have made him come to you; your neighbours had never complained, never even made a peep. Maybe you should have gone somewhere open – the park, the river, somewhere you could shout at each other amongst all the noise of the city.  

You didn’t want to leave. 

“Will you just go?” he asked, impatience ringing clear as a bell through his tone. 

You bit the inside of your lip to stop yourself saying no. Then you let it go. 

“No. I’m not leaving.” 

“I don’t have anything more to say to you.” 

“Well maybe I have things to say to you!” 

“Do you?” 

Yes. No. Maybe. They were there somewhere, the words you wanted to say, the words he wanted to hear. You knew they were there, germinating somewhere deep and dark and bloody. You weren’t ready for them to sprout, to grow, to bloom.  

“Miki, I don’t want to ask you again. Please leave.” 

When you remained sitting on the floor, he sighed and turned the TV on; he watched and didn’t look your way. He kept watching and didn’t glance down even once.  

You knew you weren’t going to say anything but leaving felt like defeat. It felt like walking away. It was walking away. You didn’t want to walk away from Changbin. 

You had no choice but to. 

* * *  

“Can I talk to you?” Chan asked, the following Sunday. 

You didn’t get the sense this time that you were in trouble, but you knew you would deserve it if you were.  

“I wanted to apologise,” he began and you started. 

“You want to apologise to me?” 

“Yes. I should have known better than to ask you so directly about you and Changbin. I just didn’t know how to tiptoe around it and, to be honest, I was kind of worried about Changbin; I was thinking of him, not you. So I’m sorry for pushing it.” 

No wonder Hani fell in love with him. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, Chan. I should be apologising to you. I was rude; you were just being nice. I appreciate it, actually, that you came to me yourself before siccing my sister on me. I didn’t mean what I said.” 

“I know you didn’t.” 

“Did you tell Hani I said it?” 

He chuckled. 

“No, of course not.” 

“Good.” You paused. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok. Air cleared. We’re all good. But... can I ask now about you and Changbin? He said you talked.” 

“Then you probably know everything already.” 

His eyebrow quirked and you weren’t too angry to miss it this time.  

“What?” you asked. 

“I don’t think I know everything.” 

“Enough.” You shrugged. “He says the ball’s in my court, but I don’t know what to do with it.” 

“Don’t you?” 

You could feel your conversation with Changbin started to repeat itself.  

No, you did not know what to do with the ball and you were getting pretty tired of holding it. It was Changbin. Your Binnie. Not your Binnie. Just Binnie. He was your friend, your best friend. He was your fake boyfriend because your sister had bugged you just one too many times about it. He was your friend-with-benefits because you couldn’t both keep the lie going and sleep with anyone else. He was...  

He had said he felt used. You hadn’t felt like you were using him. Or maybe you thought you were using each other, in which case it was fine. You were both benefiting, weren’t you? You got all the perks of a relationship with none of the obligations. It was ideal. It was really the perfect situation. You had thought. 

Changbin obviously didn’t feel the same. You kept running it through your head, the things he had said: 

“I thought it was going somewhere.” 

“Something was happening.” 

“Maybe this could be real.” 

It wasn’t real. That was the whole point. It wasn’t supposed to be real.  

But your anger when Changbin lied about Sakura was real. The sense of betrayal you felt. The abandonment. 

Your comfort with him was real. The ease you felt in his company. The joy and contentment in just lounging around together, with no pressure to be anything other than who and what you were.  

Your pleasure was real, once you started sleeping together. The literally toe-curling, hair-raising, blood-curdling ecstasy he ripped out of you. Gave to you. The soft sweetness of his kisses and the unyielding strength of his body; his smooth, golden skin, and curly, black hair. The noises you’d never heard him make before that you could now conjure up whenever you liked, that echoed in your dreams. All of that was real. It was more than real; it was animal. It was pure. It was mindless and easy and natural.  

Natural, too, it became when you kissed outside of the bedroom. When you leant into him and he pulled you close with his arm around your shoulder. When he held your hand. When he placed a protective hand on your back on the subway, in a bar queue, just letting you know he was there. He was there for you.  

He was right that you’d felt awkward at first. That you hated the pet names and the embarrassment that came with them. You hated him for being mischievous and jeopardising the whole operation by testing your non-existent acting skills. You weren’t sure when that feeling stopped. You were sure it was before you slept together but then you remembered the watershed that occurred afterwards. 

An invisible wall between you had disappeared; a veil had been lifted. It was as if all your interactions with Changbin before that moment had been happening behind a barrier. You were holding hands through the holes of a fence, one of you on either side of it. You were clinging to each other from far away.  

Then suddenly, you weren’t. You were on the same side of the fence. You were not just close but united. Joined. One.  

It hurt your heart to think about it. It hurt so much. It hurt like a break-up. It hurt like heartbreak.  

So you knew the answers. The answer. But you didn’t want to. 

You looked up at Chan, the inside of your lip torn to shreds.  You shrugged. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, and it came out tight and choked, tears you hadn’t realised were there stinging in your eyes.  

Chan pulled you into his arms for a hug and, on any other day, you’d have shoved him off, but it came as a relief. You leant into him and wrapped your arms around his waist.  

“You’re a good brother,” you said quietly, trying not to sniffle. “I’m glad Hani married you.” 

“Thanks, Miki. That really means a lot to me, you know.” 

He rubbed your back and you felt like the world’s most pathetic loser, and sickeningly grateful for Chan at that moment.  

“You and Bin can work it out, I promise.” 

You could only hope that was true. 

* * * 

You sat with the answer for longer than you should have. You should have taken it to Changbin as soon as you knew the truth. You even knew what was stopping you. But that knowledge wasn’t helping you get past it.  

You lay on your sofa, rotting, hoping to decay to the point that your decomposing body could leak into the cushions and you could become one with it. You stared at your ceiling. You were putting it off. You didn’t want to do it, but doing anything else felt like defeat, felt like shirking your responsibility, felt like running away. So you just lay and stared and waited for something to make you move.  

The longer you left it, the harder it would be. The longer you left it, the less likely it was that Changbin would respond how you wanted him to. Because you were leaving him hanging. Stringing him along—you had been stringing him along, however unwittingly, for weeks now. That wasn’t fair and he had every right to be angry, to dislike you, to not want anything more. To have changed his mind.  

God, you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind.  

You could scarcely believe that it had been three weeks now that you’d not been speaking. Three weeks with just one argument between you. No wonder it felt like a break-up. Your relationship might technically have been fake, but you had dug deep enough to realise that your feelings weren’t. 

You cringed to yourself. You hated that. You hated thinking about your feelings. You hated that they existed. You hated that they hurt so much, all the time. You hated how much you missed him, how scared you were to lose him.  

That was enough, you’d decided. It hit you over the head, your oldest friend, impatience. You had had enough of this, you said to yourself. Rip the fucking plaster off and, if you bled all over the floor, so be it. At least maybe you’d bleed to death. 

You took the stairs to Changbin’s floor and hammered on his door. No answer. You let yourself in, using his door code. 

“Binnie?” 

The apartment was empty.  

Not wanting to lose any momentum, not wanting either to give him any notice, to initiate any contact that might psych you out or knock you off-course, you decided to head to the gym. It was as likely a place for him to be as any.  

You were right. He was on the floor, stretching, when you entered. That was good; that meant he had finished. Also good: the gym was empty but for the two of you.  

You strode over and sat next to him. You placed your hand on his arm. You knew what you had to tell him but hadn’t quite picked the words. They were never your strong suit. He turned to look at you, his face an open question, and shuffled into a more comfortable position.  

The words didn’t come but the impulse did. You leant forward and kissed him. Tentative, hesitant, light. The second seemed to stretch forever; you were desperate for it to end and dying for it not to. Your heart was pounding so hard, you could hear it in your ears. Your body was flushing warm, running hot and you could feel the heat from him, too, though you knew his wasn’t anything to do with you.  

The second finally ended and you pulled back, but only barely, just enough to see his eyes, usually so intense but, at this moment, open, sparkling, asking.  

You kissed him again. You hadn’t meant to; it happened without your say so. This time, he responded. You felt his lips move against yours, his head turn so they slotted together, so he could run his tongue over your bottom lip. You moved your hands into his hair, damp with sweat, curling at the edges of his face.  

“Binnie,” you whispered, when his lips left yours a second time.  

“Miki,” he returned. 

“I want to tell you-” 

He interrupted you with his mouth on yours again. You made a noise of protest, but it was weak and you didn’t follow through because it had hit you, how much you missed this. How much you wanted it. How much you had liked it at the time and not allowed yourself to notice.  

You had to be closer to him. You shuffled on your knees and sat yourself in his lap; he pulled you to his body until his sweat soaked through your shirt. Your mouth journeyed across his face, to his jaw, walking a trail down his neck, kissing wet drops of sweat from his skin. 

“Miki...”  

“Binnie...” 

Your mouth reversed its travels and you sucked his bottom lip between yours, sank your teeth into it gently and then not so gently. The groan he made, deep in his chest, lit you up on the inside, burning hot now, your own sweat starting to prickle on your skin.  

Before you lost your mind completely to the heat and the haze, you pulled back. You pressed your forehead against his and took a second to get your breath back, breath you hadn’t noticed he had taken.  

“I need to tell you,” you repeated. “I have to tell you things.”  

You felt him nod against you. 

“Ok, you can tell me.” 

“I’m sorry.”  

It wasn’t the thing you wanted to start with. You wished you could have said it all without having to apologise. But you’d done things that you were sorry for and he had to know. 

“I’m sorry I’m so stupid and I’m sorry I used you and I’m sorry I don’t know how to be honest with you and I’m sorry I don’t know how to feel things and I’m sorry I shouted at you and was a dick to you and said I hated you. I’m sorry I did all this stupid shit. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I'm sorry I didn’t realise. I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you. I’m sorry for all of it.” 

His lips were back before you had even closed your mouth. You pushed against his chest with your hands. 

“Stop kissing me! I have to say stuff!” 

“I know, but I have stuff to say, too, and I want to say it like this,” he replied, pausing between each clause to press his mouth against yours, staying so close that you could feel his lips move as he spoke. 

“You said I had to go first,” you reminded him. “Let me go first.”  

He huffed but leant back a little and you did the same, the air between you clearing just enough for you to remember how nervous you were, how terrified, even though he’d just been kissing you, even though you sat in his lap with his arms around you.  

“It started out not being real,” you began. “It really wasn’t real and I intended for it to never be real because I just wanted Hani to leave me alone and I was going to end it. I swear. I was racking my brain trying to come up with a good solution. Especially because you were being so annoying! I thought you wanted it to fail because you were winding me up so much. And you were right, I fucking flinched and I hated it; it made me so uncomfortable because it was so weird to have you doing that. We didn’t do that!  

“Then you kissed me on the subway and it was... nice. And then horrible because it shouldn’t have been nice! And then we had sex and it was... more than nice. And I... I didn’t want to break us up anymore because I liked how it was. I kept saying to myself that we had all of the perks of a real relationship with none of the drawbacks but what I really meant, though I didn’t know it, was that I had all the security of a relationship with none of the risk. 

“I didn’t want to risk it. Having feelings. Going there. With you, especially. Not because—not because I d--... Not... It was you, Binnie. You were my best friend. I trust you with everything. You know all of my stupid secrets; you’ve seen me throw up on the street; you gave me food poisoning so bad I literally shit myself in your doorway; it’s you--” 

“Can I make a recommendation?” 

“What?” 

“Maybe don’t talk about shitting yourself while you’re trying to confess your undying love for me?” 

You slapped him hard on the arm. 

“Shut the fuck up! I’m being fucking vulnerable here, you prick!” 

He laughed and you let him kiss you, just a little, just long enough for the flash of your annoyance to fade.  

“My point is,” you continued, pushing back against him, “that if you didn’t want me, who the fuck would? You are the person who could... You’re the person who could hurt me the most. Out of anyone. Out of everyone. If I didn’t have you, if you said no, if I fucked things up, who would I have? I didn’t want to lose you.” 

“So you kept me at arm’s length and pushed me away and didn’t speak to me for weeks.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.”  

Shame flamed on your cheeks. It swallowed your voice, made your throat tight and your eyes sting. You dropped your gaze, focusing on your hand around his bicep, your ragged thumbnail that you had chewed to bits. You watched it raise and lower as Changbin shrugged. 

“It’s ok. I did it, too. I could have brought it up. But I didn’t. Because, honestly, I knew it would go badly and I thought it would be easier to fight than talk about it. I thought you would find it easier if I pushed you to be angry rather than pushing you to be... open. I thought if you really felt anything, it would come out in an argument. That wasn’t fair of-” 

“No, that is pretty much right on the money. You’re right. It’s so much easier to be angry with you than... than this.” 

“Are you still angry?” 

You shook your head. You were as far from angry as you’d ever been.  

“Are you still angry with me?” you countered, swallowing hard. 

“No.” 

A sigh of relief.  

“Tell me, then,” he whispered, his lips moving against yours in anticipation of a kiss. 

“Tell you what?”  

“What you want.” 

And it came out easily. 

“You.” 

* * *  

[wands-natsthing]

Helping you take your braids out

This story was on my old acct @wandanatsthings I made a new one (aka this one) which will be the acct I use from now on.

Hii, so I’m writing this fic because I see ALOT of Wandanat x Reader where Reader is Basically just skinny white girls and while there’s nothing wrong with that I would love to see something more diverse so this is that enjoy :)

(P.s im dyslexic I’m trying my best)

Word count 1.1k

Warnings: If you consider fluff a warning then ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️ lol I don’t think there are any, but lemme know if you see anything please!

Summary: Wanda and Natasha help you take out your braids

y/n pov It was a Saturday morning and your girlfriends were at work, you were home alone so you decided that it would be a great time to take your braids out. You had them for three months now and your new growth was insane. You had been dreading taking them out because you didn't want your girlfriends to see you like that you thought they would judge you. So now really was the only time to do it so you could have it washed and in a new style hopefully before they got home. You checked the clock on your phone to see how much time you had. You were grateful to know that It was only 9:30 meaning you had plenty of time before they came back tonight at 8. With that, you got up and went into the bathroom to grab everything you needed to bring out into the living room so you could watch TV while you did the tedious task.

It was only about 4:30 and you barely had half of your braids down. Your arms were tired and your back began to hurt. This would be a lot easier if I had help. As soon as that thought crossed your mind. You heard the front door open and close. That couldn't be them. Their home way too early you thought...

Nats pov

Wands and I had left the house around 9:00 this morning leaving y/n home by herself. When we got to work we checked our to-do list to see what it was we had to get done today. Turns out we both only had mission reports due, So we both decided we'd work here at the Avengers Tower for a while and then come home early to surprise y/n.

Wanda's pov

After leaving the Avengers Tower, we went back home to surprise you. As we walked through the house, we could hear your favorite TV show playing and you calling out our names. When we turned the corner into the living room, we saw you surrounded by all kinds of hair products and tools.

y/n pov

As I heard the door shut I called out to see if it was them. “Wands?” “Nat?” After a few short moments, you see them round the corner with smiles on their faces. “Hi…guys, what are you doing home so early?” you ask them feeling a little self-conscious because they were seeing you exactly how you didn’t want them to. “We decided to come home early and finish our mission reports here to spend some time with you,” says Wanda. You look up at them with a smile on your face “Aw guys that's so sweet thank you” You tell them. “Of course detka, Um what's going on here?’’ asked Natasha. You then look around to see all of the combs, conditioner, and grocery bags that surround you. You look up at them and say apprehensively “I'm taking my braids out…” What you hear next surprises you. “Oh well, can we help?” Wanda asked. You looked up at them in shock.

You loved the thought of them wanting to help you. Now neither one of them knew much about your hair curly kinky type but they were always open to learning more about it and asked you questions. “You want to help?’ you ask them with surprise in your voice. “ Yes, why wouldn’t we?” Ask Natasha “Well I mean it is a lot of work and I can't look the prettiest right now.” you say looking down. “I can’t lie you do look a little silly like this but still you are the prettiest anyway you look. I think you look quite adorable like this.” Says Natasha. What she says brings a smile to your face. “Um okay if you guys are sure I would love your help, My arms are tired.” With that, they chuckle a little and sit behind you on the couch. “Okay love you're gonna have to tell us what to do though,” says Wanda “Yes of course” you reply. You had already had the braids cut so they wouldn’t have to worry about that. “So first you're going to pick up a braid, and you can choose to use a rat-tail comb or your fingers. With a rat-tail comb, you will take the end of the comb gently and slowly start to comb the end of the braid to unravel it.”

You demonstrated by using the braid you were working on before they came in. “And if you were to use your fingers, you would do it the same way you would unravel a regular braid, but remember it is still slow and gentle okay?” You look back at them and see them smiling while nodding. “Okay if some of them are a little hard to do just add a little conditioner and it will come out easier.” “okay we got it,” says Wanda. As they start to take the braids down you feel Wanda using her fingers and Natasha using the rattail. Both of them are extremely gentle, Not once pulling too hard. As they complete a few braids you all start to get into a rhythm.

It starts makes you wonder what you were so self-conscious about in the first place. After a while of comfortable silence, Wanda begins to speak. “Thank you for letting us help you with this,” she says “Why are you thanking me, I should be the one thanking you guys. Thank you btw” you reply. “I'm saying thank you for letting us help because this is very vulnerable and we appreciate you letting us get this close to you. For letting us see this beautiful part of you.” “ I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Natasha says. You feel yourself start to get emotional.

You always wanted to be with someone who loved all of you and never made you feel ashamed of yourself and now not only do you have one person who makes you feel that way you have two. “I guess I never really thought about it that way. I'm really glad that I get to share this part of myself with you guys too,” you say. When you turn around to look at them, they're both already looking at you with so much love and adoration in their eyes. You lean up to kiss them “I love you both so much,” you say “We love you more” they both reply. With that, you all continue taking the braids out and time goes by so much faster than it did when it was by yourself. Maybe that was because you had 2 sets of extra hands or because you had your beautiful girlfriends helping you and keeping you company. Either way, before you knew it you were all done. “thank you for helping me again.” you say. “Anytime” Natasha replies. “Okay, now who wants to help me wash it?” “ME!” you hear out of both of your red-headed mouths. You made a mental note to never try and take out your braids yourself again. Why would you when you have 2 very eager girlfriends to help?

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Feedback welcomed!!

[jerzwriter]

Happy Birthday, Baby! 🩷🤍🩷

Every time Ainna (@/artbyainna - IG) creates something for me, I say it's my new favorite, but this time, I doubt it will ever be topped!

Last month, I was busy and going through some stuff, so I completely forgot to get a slot with Ainna. Imagine my surprise when she reached out a few days later and said, "a secret someone" got a slot for me. It honestly couldn't have come at a better time. I was so down and this act of kindness lifted my spirits so much. When she said my slot was 7/24, I knew what we were going to do! Casey's "birthday" is 7/26, and this had to come to life. And OMG, I could NOT love it anymore.

When Ainna sent me the final today, I sent a sneak peek to just one person... @lucy-268. Not ten seconds later, I got a message from Ainna saying, "By the way, this was from Kathy (aka Lucy-268)." The coincidence was wild! And given that Kathy & I are total Tobias stans - it was perfect! Kathy was so glad I chose to do Tobias & Casey (naked Tobias at that! lol), and I'm so touched by her generosity & kindness. Thank you SO SO much, my dear friend! You have no idea how much this lifted my spirits when Ainna told me initially and again today. I'm so blessed to have you in my life, and now, we're all blessed with this art! 🥵 Yeah, her birthday is July 26th, but I'm not sitting on this one! Though Casey probably will, but I digress. 😏😏😏 This deserved a little fic - which can be found below. Thank you again, Kathy! You're the best! 🩷🤍🩷🤍

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey Carrick) Featuring: Bryce, Ethan, Aurora, Sienna, Jackie Rating: Teen (It's racy, but not that racy) Words: 1,700 Summary: Tobias wants to make this a birthday that Casey will always remember, so he plans a girl's night out for her and her friends. Once they're gone, he and Bryce start the second part of his plan. Eventually, Ethan gets dragged in, too. It's definitely a night to remember! A/N: Mostly already above, but some at the end, too!

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Tobias stood in front of his townhome, a sparkle twinkling in his bright blue eyes as he watched the white stretch limo disappear into the night. Casey popped her head out of the sunroof just moments before, enthusiastically waving and blowing kisses as her friends raucously cheered her on. He was determined to make this birthday special for her, and it looked like his mission was a success.

He stepped back inside and shut the door with a sigh, leaning against it as Bryce approached, placing a freshly made strawberry mojito in his hand.

“Man, did you see her?" He asked. "She looked amazing tonight."

“She sure did,” Bryce agreed, spreading out on the couch with a massive bowl of chips on his lap. “You did good, T. The girls’ night out idea? Legendary! I’d say you’re bound to get it now, but...”

“Yeah,” Tobias chuckled, getting comfortable in his recliner. “I’m not worried about that ever. But I am slightly worried about tonight."

“Tonight? Why?”

“Did you see her? She could give up medicine and be a freaking model. Goddamn, one day, that woman’s going to realize she could do much better than me. Let's hope that night isn't tonight."

Bryce went pale; he rushed over to his friend and placed his hand on his forehead.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tobias asked.

“Checking to see if you had a fever! Since when have you thought there was anyone better than you?”

“Heh,” he chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You have a valid point there.”

“I mean, the rest of us always told her she could do better,” Bryce teased. “But she hasn’t listened so far. Now that you’re married with a kid and a cat, I think you’re safe, buddy.”

“You’re right,” Tobias let out a deep breath and clinked his glass against Bryce’s with a grin. “Besides, did you see that limo I got them? Now they’re off for dinner at Contessa, then a VIP table at The Grand... you’re right; I’m the best husband in the freaking world. What do I have to worry about?"

“Aaaand just like that, he’s back!” Bryce grinned, grabbing the remote to flip on the television.

A couple of hours later, as the guys ate pizza and watched mindless TV, Tobias’s phone buzzed. Casey sent him pictures of her and her friends having the time of their lives. Then, a quick message: I'm having so much fun!! I don’t care what anyone says! You’re my favorite husband! I adore you, baby. 😘

“Favorite husband,” Tobias laughed, rapidly texting back: Your ONLY husband, sweetheart! Have fun, baby. I love you.❤️

Bryce laughed with a mouth full of chips. “You are so freaking whipped. Now, what’s the surprise that I’m here to help you with?”

Tobias glanced at his watch. “We still have a little time to chill, but you're going to help me put up a balloon wall.”

Bryce raised a brow. “A... balloon wall?”

“Yeah,” Tobias said, pulling a picture up on his phone. Bryce’s eyes popped.

“That looks... complicated. T, you’re loaded. Couldn't you have just hired someone to do this?”

“Dude... the kit says ages ten and up. We’re seven times that between us. We both managed to graduate med school, right? We’ve got this.”

Two hours later...

Perched precariously on the top rung of a ladder, Tobias carefully balanced a cardboard frame brimming with balloons.

“I’ve got it... I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he shouted just before the frame slipped from his hands, plummeting onto Bryce, who found himself entangled in the balloons, looking like a large cluster of pink and white grapes.

He glared at his friend as he untangled himself. “T. I think it’s about time that we admit... we absolutely do not have this!”

Surrendering, Tobias climbed down the ladder, cursing under his breath.

“You're right! Now, what the hell do we do? Normally, I’d call Sienna at this point, but....”

“Yeah, no,” Bryce laughed, scrolling through his Instagram feed. “Right about now, she’s five martinis in, and based on this picture... she’s getting a lap dance.”

“A lap dance!” Tobias’s eyes went wide. “From who?”

“Your wife,” Bryce cackled, handing Tobias his phone.

Tobias couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “Well, I'm glad they're having fun! But we need to call in some help.”

Twenty minutes later, Bryce answered a knock on the door. “Thank God you’re here,” he exclaimed. “We desperately need your help.”

“Your panicked phone call made that abundantly clear," Ethan groaned. “Now, what am I here to fix?"

Stepping into the living room, he saw Tobias sitting defeated in front of a wall of half-covered with balloons.

“Hey, buddy,” Tobias half-smiled, handing him a picture of what the wall was supposed to look like. We need your help.”

“With this?!”

Ethan’s face went blank. He looked from the picture to Tobias, to the wall, and back to the picture again, shaking his head.

“This. You called me for this. What about me has ever given you any indication that I would be of any help with... this.”

“I'm desperate,” Tobias pleaded. “Everyone who could be of any use to me is currently out celebrating with Casey. You’re it, man.”

“I don't know how to do this! How do you think I can help?"

“Look,” Bryce said, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Three idiots are better than two; now, let’s get to work.”

“You’re so lucky I love Casey,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ethan instructed Tobias and Bryce to remove everything from the wall; they were starting from scratch. One hour, ten arguments, and three "confetti incidents" they swore would never be spoken about again later, the balloon wall was perfect!

“There you go!” Tobias said, brimming with pride. “A work of art!”

Ethan shot him a look as he poured a tumbler of Tobias’s most expensive Scotch, a reward for his hard work.

“How long before Casey gets home?” he asked. “I may as well stay to see how she reacts to our handiwork.”

“Oh,” Tobias smiled deviously. “I’m afraid you can’t stay for that.”

“Why not?”

“You won’t like all the... props,” he grinned.

“You don't scare me,” Bryce chimed in, stretching out on the couch. “I put in all this work. I’m waiting.”

“Suit yourself,” Tobias sighed. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He texted Aurora, knowing she’d be the most coherent member of Casey’s entourage, for an estimated time of arrival. She said they’d be back within 30 minutes, and he asked her to help Casey to the door but warned her not to come in. He then turned to his friends and offered them a final chance.

“You've been warned," he repeated. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make the final preparations.”

The two men were engrossed in a conversation when Tobias returned, and they didn’t see him step into the back of the room. He positioned himself in front of a now perfect balloon wall, wearing nothing but the skin God gave him and one strategically placed mylar balloon.

The front door burst open, and Casey stepped inside, followed by her friends, who clearly hadn't listened to Tobias.

“Surprise!” Tobias shouted with a bright grin, drawing all attention his away.

“Oh my God!” Sienna gasped, quickly covering her face with both hands.

Casey burst into laughter, doubling over while everyone else stared, mortified but unable to look away.

"It's like a train wreck!" Aurora mumbled.

Ethan buried his face in his hands. “I did not sign on for this.”

Bryce shook his head, attempting to suppress a laugh. “This was definitely not in the plan.”

Tobias shot them a quick glance, “Hey, you were warned.” But his eyes quickly returned to the object of his affection as his beautiful wife rushed toward him.

“Oh my God," she gushed. "I have to admit, I did not see this coming!”

Tobias's eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “Oh, baby, there’s going to be lots of coming very soon!”

“Aaaand that’s our cue to leave!” Aurora announced. Ethan was already ten steps ahead of her, putting his coat on at the door.

“Hey, where’s everyone going,” Tobias hollered as Casey wrapped her arms around his waist, almost causing a wardrobe malfunction. “We’re about to put on quite a show!”

“You better believe it,” Casey beamed, squeezing him tight.

“We’re good!” Sienna yelled, rushing to the door. “We are so good!”

“Sienna! Wait!” Casey ordered. “Don’t leave before taking a picture.”

“A picture... but he’s... he’s naked!” She gasped in horror.

“Oh, come on!” Casey winked. “You're a doctor! You've seen naked men before."

"But in fairness, none that look this good," Tobias teased.

"True," Casey agreed. "But the balloon is covering the best part!”

“She has a point,” Bryce agreed, only adding fuel to the rapidly burning fire.

“Oh, things are coming to a point, all right!” Tobias droned.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! Take the damn picture so we can all get out of here!” Ethan grumbled.

“Say uh... say cheese?” Sienna said as Casey reached up and placed a flirtatious kiss on her husband’s cheek.

“God, you look beautiful,” he whispered.

“Me?” she winked. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Aaand we’re out....” Bryce announced as the friends all rushed out the front door.

"This is how they end up with another little Carrick!" Jackie fumed.

“Happy Birthday, Casey!” Aurora yelled from the distance; then the door closed with a bang.

Once they were alone, Casey ripped the balloon out of Tobias’s hands with a grin. She read the inscription on the champagne bottle-shaped balloon.

“Make it pop, huh?” She smiled, lowering her eyes and dragging a manicured hand slowly up his thigh, then higher. “Looks like I’ve already completed the assignment.”

“You sure have,” he growled, slowly unzipping the back of her dress, his eyes lustfully taking her in as it fell to the floor. “Now, this is a team project. You completed your part; the rest is on me.”

His lips met hers in a passionate kiss as their hands roamed over the contours of their bodies. With a low groan, he lifted her as she wrapped her legs around him. He carried her to a velvet armchair and gently placed her down, leaving one of her legs draped seductively over the side.

He stepped aside to pour a flute of pink champagne, giving her another lingering kiss as he placed the gas in her hand.

"What's this for?" She asked.

"Your favorite, baby. You sit back and enjoy it," he smirked and dropped to his knees before her. "Relax, the rest is on me. I want this to be a birthday you'll remember."

“Oh, I assure you,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut as he began his ministrations. “It already is.”

Tobias stopped just for a second, reaching up for one last kiss. "Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet. Happy Birthday, baby."

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I'm still light-headed over the art!

A/N: Participating in @julychallenge Pink: Love, Joy, Playfulness, Friendship and Black: Seduction, Attraction

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanart @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[bvidzsoo]

Does he know?

𖤛 Brother's best friend!San 𖤛

TW: none

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Hii lovelies, got inspired today while listening to some scary Halloween stories, so here's this little drabble (which is not so little lol.)

           Oh, you had a bad feeling. When Jongho, your older brother, came barreling inside your room yesterday evening with an excited grin on his face you just sighed, expecting a half fucked up idea about what the two of you should do over the weekend with your parents absent, but he surprised you with the idea of throwing a party, instead. It really didn’t sound bad. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Besides, he said it would be a smaller get together with his closest friends and perhaps a few other guys from his uni class, so you had no problem with that. Plus, it was Halloween. And a little party never killed nobody. But as you stood by your window right now, curtain pulled slightly to the side to be able to peek out, your face was pulled into a distressed grimace.

“No, Yeri, you don’t understand—” Your words rushed out as the phone was pressed against your ear, “the place is flooded. Okay?! It’s not just Jongho’s friends—it’s his whole fucking university!”

Your best friend giggled annoyingly on the other end of the phone, obviously amused by you overreacting over a small party. It wasn’t small at all, alright?! Your parents would kill you if they were to get home earlier. Jongho informed them of the small get together and they had no problems with it—but this?! Jesus, you were in trouble.

“What are you wearing?” Yeri asked excited, probably grinning. She left on a small trip with her family over the weekend, otherwise, she’d be sitting on your bed and teasing you in person about you freaking out.

“That’s not important—” Your breath hitched a little as you watched two motorcycles pull up in front of your house, rolling up your drive way. You were too lazy to park your cabriolet inside the garage, so the motorcycles were forced to park behind your cherry red car.

“Oh—my—God.” You managed to choke out as Choi San, your brother’s best friend, swung his leg over his very new motorcycle and took the helmet off his head. He ruffled his black hair with his fingers, and the strands fell perfectly back in place, just as it was gelled back seconds ago. Your jaw was on the floor as San placed his helmet on the seat of his motorcycle, turning to face his friend, Seonghwa. Your eyes were glued to San’s outfit, muscles on display through the tight fabric hugging his body.

“Y/N?! Hello—” Yeri’s exasperated huffing finally reached your ears, and brain to be honest, as your eyes fixed on San’s black leather pants.

“Yeri, fuck, I’m going to die tonight.” You mumbled into the phone breathless as San adjusted his leather cropped jacket, which was matching his pants. God, you felt like you were drooling. Which you might have been doing, actually.

“You know I can’t see whatever you’re seeing, right?” Yeri’s voice was amused but slightly annoyed and your eyes widened as San turned and glanced up towards you window as if sensing you were ogling him.

“Sorry, yeah, I—” You speedwalked away from your window, hoping San hadn’t seen you, as you started pacing up and down in your spacious room, “Yeri—San—God.”

There was silence on the other side of the line, that is, until loud laughter almost deafened you, “I know you have the hots for San, but seriously—this much?!”

“You’re not seeing him right now, alright?!” Your voice raised as you joined in on Yeri’s laughter.

“Well, go ahead, I’m all ears—but before that! What are you wearing?” Yeri repeated her question and you giggled as you stopped in front of your full body length mirror. Oh well, what you were wearing, despite it being decent in your opinion, would send your brother into an annoyed rant, his overprotective side, making you change into something else in milliseconds. But it was fine, because tonight, he was preoccupied with his friends and would leave you alone. At least that’s what you hoped for.

“Well, I’m wearing that black leather skirt we bought together last month,” The skirt reached mid-thigh and came up to your belly button, “I have fishnets on too, and—I don’t know, mom gave me this crop top long sleeve blouse thingy she used to wear.” The crop top was burgundy and low-cut, wrapping around your breasts snuggly as the collar of it rested nicely around your shoulders and collarbones. Your stomach was bare and as you weren’t used to dressing like this, it made you feel slightly uncomfortable, but Halloween only happened once a year, you’d survive.

“You have to send me a picture!” Yeri demanded and you hummed, looking around for an accessory to complete the look. Your neck felt too bare, perhaps a black choker would do, “What about your hair?”

“Uh,” You huffed as you walked to your dresser, opening your jewelry box on top of it, “I was lazy, so, a messy ponytail will do.”

“I bet you look hot as fuck,” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your black choker, “And with San there…Jongho better not cockblock you—”

“Yeri.” You sighed and walked back to your mirror, “Just because I’m into San doesn’t mean he’s into me as well, you know…”

Yeri scoffed and you could have sworn she rolled her eyes too, “I’ve seen the way he looks at you—”

“Okay, enough nonsense.” You cut her off, glancing at the clock. It was almost ten and you could hear the guys setting up the music downstairs, “I’m going to hang up now.”

“Send me a picture!” Yeri exclaimed as you hummed and bid her goodbye, placing your phone on the nightstand. You secured the choker around your neck and then grabbed your phone, posing cutely in front of the mirror to send the picture to Yeri. A loud bang coming from down the hallway made you jump as your thumb pressed against the screen of your phone, but you paid it no mind as you hurried to your door and threw it open. You were about to shout at whoever went inside your parents room, but soon enough Mingi’s pink head poked through the door as Yeosang followed after him, carrying your father’s very expensive speaker set. Oh, you were dying dying when your parents returned home. Your sigh was loud as you shook your head at your brother’s friends and it caught their attention and Yeosang looked sheepish, meanwhile Mingi grinned widely.

“Hi, Y/N!” He greeted excitedly and you nodded with a grin which said ‘I have accepted my fate’ before you went back inside your room, closing your door and leaning against it with a groan. God, you were so going to regret this whole Halloween party idea. But Yeri’s supportive compliments about your outfit did cheer you up a bit.

            Two hours barely into the party and you were praying your neighbors wouldn’t call the police on you. The house was full of people, and as if you had turned into your mother, you were standing on the stairs, screaming at whoever tried going upstairs, telling them that it was off-limits, and that if you caught them there again, you’d kick them out. Most people, who you had no idea who they were, seemed to know you and would greet you like ‘Hi, Jongho’s sister’, and some would even bring you drinks, which you refused. You couldn’t trust guys, it was sad, but true. You were resting against the railing of the staircase, leaning over and gaping at a couple as they were furiously making out and leaning dangerously close to your mother’s plant, about to shout at them to stop, when your brother’s face blocked your view of them.

“Here you are!” He exclaimed with a wide grin, “Someone told me there’s an angry chick screaming at anyone who tries going upstairs—I just knew it was you.”

You rolled your eyes as Jongho started laughing, which quickly died out, as he squinted his eyes at your outfit, “Isn’t that too—revealing?”

“You can literally only see my abs, Jongho, what’s revealing about that?” You raised your eyebrows unimpressed at him and he shrugged, taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“I don’t know,” He extended his cup to you, “I’m just not used to seeing you dressed like this, I guess. What are you dressed as, anyways?”

You grabbed the cup and brought it up to your nose, scrunching it when you realized he was drinking Vodka, “I’m a vampire without fangs, because I didn’t have enough money to buy some. You?”

“Nothing, I’m the host.” Jongho deadpanned as you gulped down some of your brother’s drink, somehow expecting him to not dress up as anything, even though this was his party.

“Jongho, seriously—” You slightly gagged at the disgusting taste of his drink before handing him back his drink, “the host is the most important person at a party, of course you should be dressed up!”

“Good thing my little sis dressed up in my place too,” He chuckled and nodded his head towards the kitchen, “stop annoying others and come to the kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes but followed your brother, you were starting to get irritated by the many drunken idiots wanting to go upstairs, perhaps a drink would do good. Jongho waited for you at the end of the stairs and once you were by his side he draped an arm around your shoulders, making you give him a pointed look. It wasn’t a foreign action, but he was only doing it right now to keep guys away from you. Not surprising at all. A few people smiled and waved at you as you made your way through the crowd and you smiled back awkwardly, asking Jongho who they were, and him explaining with a laugh. You also scolded him for throwing a huge party instead of a small get together and he smiled sheepishly, saying he only meant to invite a few friends over but word got out and he couldn’t do much about it. You knew he was lying, but remained silent as you walked inside the kitchen with him and realized all of his good friends were here. San included. Fuck. You gulped and made an effort to avoid looking in his direction as he had abandoned his leather jacket somewhere and the black tank top he wore exposed his deliciously buff arms and wide back. Oh, God, you truly wouldn’t survive tonight. Suddenly you missed standing on the stairs and shouting at others to stay away.

“Y/N! Finally!” Yunho, Jongho’s guitarist friend from their band, greeted you cheerily and ran up to you. Jongho released you and went to grab a red cup, pouring some whiskey in it as it was your favorite. You knew Yunho was going to hug you, but you didn’t expect the tackle and your legs dangling in the air as he twirled you around, making you giggle half scared for your life.

“How much have you had to drink?” You asked once he placed you down and he just shrugged, grabbing his own cup off the counter.

“A lot.” He muttered into your ear before he went back to his previous spot, sitting up on the counter, next to the sink. Mingi was busy showing something on his phone to Wooyoung, who waved when Yunho was twirling you around, meanwhile Yeosang was pouring coke into your cup, laughing with Jongho about something. Seonghwa was busy talking to a girl, smiling sweetly and playing with a strand of her hair, meanwhile Hongjoong was squinting and squatting, filling nine little porcelain cups with a pinkish liquid. He was pouring shots for everyone. You stood awkwardly in your own kitchen as you waited for Jongho to finally give you your drink, when you felt someone’s warmth engulfing you from your right. You gulped and screamed at yourself to remain calm and not blush, the musky scent of your brother’s best friend too familiar. Fuck, why did he have to approach you?!

“Hi,” His voice was deep and your body involuntarily shivered, “I bet you’re hating this whole thing.” Of course he knew you’d hate this whole big party thing, why did San have to know you so well? How did he even know, was the better question.

“Uhm—” Why did your jaw have to hang a little open? Seriously, you hated yourself right now. But San’s sharp eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner, making them even sharper as he gazed deeply into your own eyes as if he was trying to reach deep enough to see your soul. Which might’ve as well left your body at the moment, “San, hi. It’s—big. The party, I mean, yeah, it’s too much—whatever.”

What were you even saying? If San wouldn’t have started grinning like an idiot at your nonsense of an answer, you would’ve started crying. You still wanted to cry but Yeosang’s quiet ‘hey’ caught your attention as he stood next to you and San, handing you your red cup.

“Jongho said you’re allowed to drink only one more when you’re finished with this one.” Yeosang handed you the cup as you huffed.

“Yeah, tell Jongho he can shove it up his ass since he said he’d throw a small party and this is everything but small.” San giggled next to you and you swore Heaven was calling you as the sound made tons of butterflies erupt in your stomach. Should you really drink with San here? Whatever, fuck it, you took a big gulp of your drink and smiled at the sweet taste of it. Yeosang and Jongho always knew how to mix your drinks. Yeosang just winked before walking back to Jongho, leaving you standing next to San, feeling awkward again. Now it was because you had no idea what to say to him. Seriously, what could you ask him about at a Halloween party? You took a peek in his direction, and almost jumped when you realized he was already looking at you, but his eyes weren’t on your face but on your body. Specifically, legs. Your whole face flushed and you quickly took another gulp of you drink as you tried not to choke at the thought of San checking you out. What kind of fever dream was this?

“Let me guess,” You heard San saying, and you did choke this time, making Jongho glance your way with his eyes squinting at you, “You’re a vampire?”

Once you managed to calm your coughing, you looked at him, more than sure that your whole face was red, “Yeah, without the fangs…and what are you?”

“Ghost rider, without the fire.” You started giggling, it sounded really awful to your own ears, but it made San smile too and suddenly those damn butterflies were back. You could swear you heard him muttering ‘cute’ to himself, but Wooyoung’s witchy laughter echoed around the kitchen and you looked his way, wondering what was so funny. By the look on Hongjoong’s face it was probably nothing funny, Wooyoung just had a death wish.

“Shut up, idiot.” Hongjoong went to place his palm against Wooyoung’s mouth to shut him up, but he escaped and raced towards you, hiding behind you as he knew Hongjoong quite liked you and wouldn’t try to deck him as long as you’re standing in front of him.

“Can we just drink those shots?” Wooyoung whined from behind you and Hongjoong gave him one last scrutinizing look before he went back to the counter and clapped his hands together.

“Shots are ready!” He grinned and the boys approached the counter, excitement showing in their eyes as they all watched the pink liquid, Mingi leaning close to sniff it before Yunho pulled him backwards and shook his head at his best friend. You were just about to walk over, Hongjoong having made eye contact with you with a smile signaling the ninth cup was for you, when San grabbed your forearm and gently pulled you towards the counter. Your whole body went stiff and you focused on gripping your red cup, afraid that it would slip from your grip. God, why did your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden? He just grabbed you, for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t that serious. He did that to many others, you really needed to get out of your head. Everyone grabbed a shot, San’s grip was still on you and your hand slightly shook as you grabbed your own cup, and then Hongjoong raised his high. Everyone extended theirs, you were struggling a bit as you were further from the group, but San pulled you closer and you positively fell into his side, brain shutting down for a few seconds.

“Cheers!” Everyone shouted loudly but you could only mumble as San turned to face you with the cutest, warmest, sweetest smile of all times before he downed his shot, never breaking eye contact. Oh, for God’s sake you truly were about to pass out as your trembling hand raised to your mouth, throwing the shot back, not quite expecting the sour taste of the pink liquid as you cringed. Hongjoong saw and chuckled, grabbing your empty cup before gathering the other ones too. Jongho had a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clapped his hands together, asking for attention.

“Seonghwa and I made a bonfire in the backyard, everyone’s welcomed to share scary stories for the next hour.” Mingi and Yunho shared a smirk as they raced outside, their tall bodies crashing almost into everyone as they made it a race as to who got there first. Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder made you jump as he started pulling you after him, San’s grip from your forearm disappearing.

“Wanna tell that story which happened like two weeks ago?” Wooyoung asked excited, pushing the door open for you.

“I’m pretty sure it was just a cat, Wooyoung…” You trailed off, still getting goosebumps from that day. Wooyoung tsked and shook his head as he walked the two of you to the empty log at the bonfire, pushing you down to sit.

“If it truly were a cat, we would’ve seen it, Y/N.” He wasn’t wrong about that, but to be honest, it still freaked you out so you hoped he’d leave you alone. The log wasn’t too big and soon Jongho joined the two of you, handing you a blanket from your parent’s room, you thanked him with a smile. His good friends all made themselves comfortable around the bonfire, a few strangers joining the nine of you as Yunho was the first one to start, with Mingi adding some information here and there, making sound effects with his mouth which only made everyone either laugh or cringe, despite his attempts to make it scary.

            You weren’t dressed accordingly for the late October, early November weather, so you quickly left the bonfire, of course, only after Wooyoung told his story and kept you there to vouch for the authenticity of it. You made yourself another drink while you were downstairs and even joined in the dancing in the living room, thankful that Jongho had pushed the sofa aside for more space. You got quickly bored of that too as the played music wasn’t really your thing, so you went back to the stairs and screamed at anyone who wanted to go upstairs. At some point you had to pee as you had finished your second cup of whiskey coke and opted for the bathroom upstairs, scared that you’d walk in on some horny university students in the downstairs bathroom. Jongho would be cleaning that bathroom, not you, that was certain. The upstairs bathroom was just across the stairs so you didn’t have to do much walking, you weren’t drunk, but your legs felt a little jittery and you knew the alcohol would soon kick in. You didn’t drink much, so you knew it wouldn’t be anything serious, but you also felt like changing into your fuzzy pjs and playing some games on your PC before going to sleep. As you washed your hands you nodded to yourself, having agreed to that idea, and left the bathroom quickly. Barely few steps away from the door, you heard footsteps behind you and when you glanced back, two Ghostfaces were charging towards you, making you shriek as you took off down the corridor, slapping their hand away when they reached for your middle. You knew these were just stupid guys playing a prank on you, but those movies have seriously scarred you, and you blamed Jongho for letting you watch it at a fragile age. You yelped again as one of them popped their head next to yours, giggling deeply, making you realize who it was. However, you had no intention of stopping before you reached your room, but as you grabbed the doorknob, you were swept off your feet and twirled around again, making you curse loudly as your head became hazy.

“Jeong Yunho!” You screamed and slapped the arm holding you, “Song Mingi!”

The two boys erupted into laughter and Yunho lowered you as you swung around and punched his middle, making his laughter turn into coughs, making Mingi laugh even louder. But you were soon facing him and trying to punch him too, but he was quick on his feet and dodging your frail attacks skillfully.

“You two are assholes!” You huffed once you realized you couldn’t get Mingi and he just chuckled, pulling the mask off his face, “You know I’m scared shitless of Ghostface!”

“We know.” Mingi giggled as you glared at him before turning around and glaring at the other culprit too. Yunho was still rubbing his stomach, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, mask clutched in his hand.

“Told you it would be funny scaring her.” Yunho told Mingi and you shook your head, flipping the two giants off as you grabbed your doorknob.

“I’ll tell Jongho you two keep bullying me—” You smirked when Mingi’s eyes widened and Yunho stopped looking so amused, “And then I’ll be the one laughing and having fun.”

“Don’t do that!” Mingi whined as you narrowed your eyes at him, but didn’t say anything, just pushed the door to your room open, watching Yunho pout at you before you closed the door in their faces, darkness enveloping you. You sighed and leaned against your door for a second, waiting for your heartbeat to return to its normal rhythm. That didn’t last for long, however, as you turned around and caught glimpse of the dark shadow standing by your desk, making you shriek again and grab your phone off your nightstand. It probably wasn’t a smart weapon of choice, but you chucked it towards the shadow, slightly thankful when they caught it, confirming that it wasn’t an actual ghost. Until it dawned on you that someone was in your room and you were about to bolt, but the lamp on your desk was flicked on. Your mouth dropped open for the nth time as you watched San, who was pressing a hand against his lips to muffle his giggles. That is, until he lowered it and the endearing sound overtook your room, butterflies back in your stomach.

“Yah! Choi San!” You exclaimed, storming over and grabbing your phone from his hand, “That wasn’t funny! I nearly had a heart attack when I realized someone was standing in my room! What if you were a creep?!”

San’s giggles died down as his eyebrows furrowed, the weight of your words getting to him. He had quite the intimidating aura at times, when his face was expressionless and his sharp eyes stared you down, and that’s exactly how he was looking at you right now. You knew him well enough to know he wasn’t scary or mal-intended, but your heart picked up again as you watched him for longer. He became serious all of a sudden. The eyeliner got a little bit smudged under his eyes and it added only depth to his mesmerizing eyes under the golden hue of your lamp.

“I would’ve beaten up the creep then.” You puffed and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, big boy.” You muttered more to yourself, not taking San too seriously and he seemed offended.

“No, I’m serious!” He exclaimed and approached you, a head taller. You looked up and cursed yourself for blushing, his scent enveloping you. Oh, no, the alcohol was getting to you as your eyes could only focus on his lips. This was bad.

“You know you can seek for my help at all times, Y/N?” Yeah, his words were sweet and comforting, but your eyes took in the redness of his plump lips, the curve of it. How would he taste, was the first question that came to mind and you almost gasped at yourself. Oh, man, were you really this far gone for him? Jongho would’ve choked you out by now if he could read your mind. Damn him and his inhumane strength which he seemed to inherit from your grandpa, that man was lifting the heaviest things at the age of seventy without a care in the world or any consequences.

“Yeah, uh—” Wait, what did San just say? Oh, yes, about going to him when you needed help—wait, what? Really? “That’s—uh—sweet. Yeah, thanks.”

You promised you were better at conversations, but San…San just had this effect on you where your brain turned into mush and suddenly you were just simply dumb. San’s lips pulled into a grin and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on his forehead or eyes, and not on his lips.

“I never got to tell you, but your outfit is cute.” Yeah, screw it, your whole face flamed at the compliment, “It almost made me think you matched me on purpose when you sent me that cute mirror selfie.”

Sent him…what? Matching—who was matching? Oh, the leather skirt and his leather pants, yeah, what a coincidence. Wait—sent him a selfie?!

“I sent you a selfie?!” You exclaimed without meaning to, eyes wide as you watched San take his phone out of his pocket, unlocking his phone. Your days were numbered. You wouldn’t be alive for too long, you have concluded, if he showed you what you feared he was about to show you. No, please don’t be it—you bit your lower lip when San turned his phone around, the selfie you intended to send to Yeri only winking back at you from San’s phone. He chuckled and turned the phone back towards himself, looking at the selfie and shaking his head.

“I figured you sent it by accident,” San spoke up, pocketing his phone, “but I had a flicker of hope in me that it wasn’t an accident, after all.”

“What?” You were gaping at him like a fish, it must’ve looked hilarious, but San didn’t look amused as he stepped closer, his boots hitting yours.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” You shook your head no, on the verge of fainting if San were to compliment you once again, “And I mean that in a…I like you, you’re cute, way.”

Stop. Rewind. Did he…just…say that? I like you?! The longer you looked at him expressionless as a deep flush invaded your cheeks, the longer San had to fight off the need to grab you and kiss you.

“You like me?” You managed to ask once your brain tried to work again.

“Yes.”

“You want to date me kind of like me?”

“Yes.”

“Does Jongho know?”

“He’s the one who encouraged me to go for it.”

“He would never.”

“Okay, maybe he didn’t encourage me—but he never said I wasn’t allowed to pursue his little sister…”

“You’re fucking with me right now, Choi San.”

“No, I’m not.”

Oh, boy, perhaps your body has finally given up as you felt your knees buckle underneath you slightly, but San didn’t notice as you huffed and held the bridge of your nose.

“Are your slaps as painful as Jongho’s?”

“More painful.” You muttered and San pouted, making your heart beat even faster than it already was.

“Fuck, then I hope I never make you mad.” San chuckled and you bit your lower lip.

“Are you asking me out right now?” If he said yes, you would faint.

“Yes.” Fuck. Why was he smiling so cutely at you? Did he want to kill you? Your parents wouldn’t even get the chance to do it at this rate.

“Okay, let’s date.” Your mouth was saying things on its own accord, because your brain stopped working a long time ago.

“I knew you liked me.” San giggled and his arms went around your middle as he pulled you into a hug, pressing his chin on top of your head. Why was he so warm?

“I don’t like you.”

“Mhm.”

Okay, maybe he was right. Okay, he was right. You liked him. Painfully much. And as you hugged him back, you were positive he could hear and feel your heartbeat in your chest by the fervor it was thumping with. Lips pressed against your forehead, and now you were positive you were about to pass out as you cursed silently, making San shake with laughter as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, headed towards your room. Shit, Jongho was coming.

Masterlist ↭ Halloween Prompts