#too bad so sad dimple

[clownwry]

Au where dimple finds mob much earlier on!

Basically dimple sees how powerful mob is and thinks oh I can raise him to be powerful with me! (Becomes a father instead)

[m00ngbin]

AJDIFOENAKFKDJ NEW CHAPTER OF SHOW ME THE WORLD OUTSIDE IT JIST UPDATED SCREAMING AND RUNNING AROUND IM SO EXCITED

Don't read the tags if you don't want to be spoiled cause I went on a rant about the plot

[skzms]

｡𖦹°‧ better off as lovers, not the other way around seo changbin x f!reader x hwang hyunjin

summary: Changbin is in love with his two best friends. When he introduces you and Hyunjin to each other and Hyunjin ends up asking you out, Changbin has to finally confront the feelings he's been ignoring for 7 years. it doesn't go so well.

word count: 24.9k words

author's note: ♫ racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow checkered caaars ♫ bonus points to whoever notices my song reference hehe anyways HI! I've been really liking writing longer form, more serious stuff, and this is my first foray into the question of "what if they didn't slip so easily into polyamory"? I like how it turned out. It's pretty sad, but I promise, there's a happy ending on the horizon big thank you to @hyunjins-dimples for being my voice of reason and giving me feedback when I was losing my mind kjsadhjsh I adore you

warnings: angst with a happy ending!; unprotected sex; mxm action; friends to lovers; mentions of panic, could be categorised as panic attacks, but aren't written as such; no cheating but kissing someone even though they're casually seeing someone else; implied bottom/switch!changbin; a tiny bit of internalised homophobia

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

Changbin thinks he might be the stupidest motherfucker alive.

He doesn’t usually think that way about himself, no. If you asked him on a normal, he’d probably say he’s pretty smart. A good dancer, good singer, even better rapper. Well-adjusted. Always willing to go the extra mile. A good support system for his members. A decent person.

And in his defence, how should he have known.

How should he have known that the dumbest thing he could ever do is introduce his two best friends to one another?

Chan would tell him to cut it out, to not talk about himself like that, but Chan isn’t here. He isn’t here because this is so bad that he hasn’t even told Chan about it – and he tells Chan everything.

What would he even say? “Chan! You know Y/N, my best friend from when we were trainees? I invited her out to bowling and galbi with me and Hyunjin two weeks ago. Yeah, isn’t that nice? Why am I bringing it up, you ask, did something go wrong, did they hate each other? Ha! No, actually! The fucking opposite! They met and there were sparks fucking flying everywhere! There was blushing and lingering glances, they got along like a house on fire. They even exchanged numbers at the end! Holy fuck!”

No, he couldn’t say that, because then Chan would ask why that’s a problem and Changbin would have to tell him that he’s been in love with his best friend ever since the day you walked out of JYP Entertainment with your head held high to pursue your own, independent music career at a company that actually valued you – and how he never stopped being in stupid, pathetic puppy love with you. He would have to tell Chan that it was because of that stupid, pathetic puppy love that he sometimes dropped everything and abandoned Chan to his own devices. Because he couldn’t resist sinking into the couch in your warm, cozy apartment, far away from the rest of the world, your cute little socked feet pressing into his thighs, and sometimes when he's lucky, your bare, cold feet digging into his thighs seeking warmth, the TV on some random drama, sipping ciders and snacking on things and talking about everything and nothing until the early hours of the night.

If Changbin was lucky, that would be all that was needed to explain it to Chan, but Chan had always known him too well. He would be his usual, annoyingly perceptive self, and ask what else it was, force Changbin to spill his fucking guts until there was nothing left. And then, boy then he would have to look his leader in the face and admit that for all these years, every single time he flirted with Hyunjin ‘for the camera’, it wasn’t for the camera at all. It was actually a chance for him to be really selfish, to vent some of his very much not platonic, probably gay (bisexual?) feelings for his member, feelings that have been haunting him for the better part of two years.

And then, if Chan wasn’t distracted by the fact that Changbin just basically came out to him, would probably ask “both?” and Changbin would nod and Chan would ask something along the lines of “but what if one of them likes you back? Then what about your feelings for the others?” and Changbin would probably either run out or just start crying. Because he doesn’t know.

But ironically, it seems that neither will be an issue because he’s here, sitting across from you in your company’s cafeteria, willing his heart to start beating again.

“You … what?” he asks, dumbly.

“Hyunjin and I have been texting,” you repeat, seemingly nonchalant, but you’re not looking at him. He knows you well enough to know that this is you being nervous.

“Okay …” Changbin hears himself say, but even he can hear the trepidation in his voice.

“At first it was just about that portable watercolour set he talked about, and then we just kinda … kept talking. It’s nothing crazy, I just … thought I’d tell you, you know. Since he’s your friend.���

“Best friend,” Changbin mumbles, and you lift your head from the straw of your Americano that you’ve been jiggling around the ice in the cup with for the last five minutes. If it had been anyone else, Changbin would’ve told you to cut it out within 20 seconds. But you’re you.

You blink at him, laugh awkwardly.

“I thought that was me,” you joke. Changbin doesn’t laugh. You stare back at your coffee. Swirl the straw around the ice.

“He asked me to go to this art exhibit with him this weekend.”

Oh, good. You have common interests.

Changbin tries to will the bitterness away, but it only settles deeper into his chest with every one of your words.

“Apparently it’s this design exhibition, he said it would really match my vibe.”

Stupid fucking suave, charming, fucking PERFECT Hwang Hyunjin.

“Ha, that sounds fun.”

Changbin cringes. The bitterness in his voice is really fucking obvious.

“Does it?” you ask, eyeing him across the table, something unreadable in your face. He feels like you’re staring right into his soul.

“Didn’t think that was your kinda thing.”

Anything would be my thing if I was with you. Or if he asked me to go. Goddammit.

He shrugs.

“Maybe not, but it sounds like something you two would enjoy.”

Why the fuck would you say that, Seo Changbin.

You eye him suspiciously before you pick up your iced coffee again.

“I think so, too. And to be honest, I’d love to spend some more time with him, we really hit it off the other day.”

Changbin forces a smile onto his face.

“You did.”

It’s not a question, just a … confirmation? Changbin has long lost any idea of what he’s trying to do.

You swirl the ice around in your cup in silence for so long, Changbin nearly reaches out and rips the cup out of your hand, but then you say something that pulls the floor right out from under his feet.

“And I mean he’s obviously stupidly attractive …”

Changbin swears his eye twitches.

“He’s alright.”

Your head snaps up, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline. There’s an obnoxiously smug grin on your face.

“Sorry? You’re literally always gushing about him. Flirting with him for the fans. You’re like his biggest fan. President of the Hwang Hyunjin fan club. Ready to drop to your knees to ask for his hand in–“

“Alright, I get it!” Changbin interrupts you, too fast, too loud. Some people in the cafeteria turn to look his way, disapproval written all over their faces.

You don’t care about them. You’re just sitting opposite him, giggling. “So, do you think that’s what this is? That he’s asking you on a date?” Changbin asks, tries his best to keep his voice down.

You shrug, seemingly nonchalantly, but there is a dusting of a blush on your cheeks. It suits you so well. The fact that it’s for Hwang Hyunjin makes Changbin want to do something drastic.

“I don’t know. I’ll just see how it goes. Go in with no expectations. But if it ends up being one … I wouldn’t complain.”

Changbin swallows down a hysterical scream.

A few beats of awkward silence stretch between you before you get up, and nearly knock your coffee over in the process. Changbin’s hand shoots out on instinct, but you manage to catch it just in time, your hands meeting on the cold, wet plastic. You stay suspended, in that moment, for a second before you shake it off.

“I gotta go back to work, they’re probably waiting for me in the studio.”

Changbin rises. His body feels two sizes too large, his brain a foggy mess.

“We still on for tonight?” he asks. Movie night. At his dorm. He doesn’t know if he wants you to say yes, so he can see you again because, god, it’s the highlight of his fucking week, or no, because he doesn’t know how he can sit next two you for several hours while Hyunjin’s contact is in your phone, and you’re probably flirting with him and sending him winky faces and hearts and those witty little innuendos you’re so good at and–

“Yeah, for sure. I really wanna see that movie, and I really wanna see if it works, to point your projector at the ceiling. It sounds magical.”

Changbin smiles, somehow. Walks with you to the exit of the cafeteria. Folds you into a hug that makes his heart sing in his chest, breathing in your smell from your hair, feeling your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders. The phantom of it accompanies him past the front desk, all the way out into the street and down the few blocks he has to walk back to JYPE.

When he walks into the studio, Jisung is asleep on the couch, wrapped in his big puffer jacket, snoring quietly. Chan swivels around to him, takes one look at him and furrows his brows.

“How’s Y/N? Is everything okay?”

I love her, Chan. I love her, and she’s going on a date with Hyunjin.

“She’s fine. Going to the museum with Hyunjin this weekend.”

Chan freezes, blinks at him once, twice.

“Uhh … she is?”

Changbin drops into the chair next to Chan, busies himself studying the waveforms of the song Chan has pulled up. He makes a casual sound.

“Like … like a date?”

Changbin wants to scream. He swallows it. Shrugs. Pretends he doesn’t care.

But Chan’s confused, concerned gaze keeps returning to him, boring into the side of Changbin’s head until Changbin can’t stand it any more.

“So, did you figure out the pre-chorus?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he has to, but Chan gets the memo. He only sighs before he turns to the computer and shows him what he worked on. But his brain doesn’t allow him any such mercy. Every time he gets distracted for a few minutes, gets lost in figuring out how to make a line of his rap flow better, or finds the perfect little percussion to add to a track, it only takes a few minutes, like clockwork, before the thoughts come back.

Falling in love with you had been as easy as breathing.

He didn’t plan on it, god no, if anything, he didn’t want to fall in love with you. Or anyone for that matter. He just joined the company, too young, ripped from anything and anyone he’s ever known on a mad chase for some bigger dream that he didn’t know if he would ever achieve. He met you a week in, and you immediately clicked. Not in a way that made sparks fly or his heart race, no, quite the opposite. You just slotted yourself into his life like you were always meant to be there. Like there had always been a hole where you belonged until you filled it.

He didn’t know anyone, and you weren’t the most outgoing, so it was easy for you to seek each other out during breaks, during mixed dance practice, after gruelling days of evaluations to eat chicken in secret and cry about how fucking cruel everything was until you somehow managed to laugh again.

And even as the months went on and you both settled in, found your footing in this new world you were dropped into, and found more friends among the other trainees, nobody ever could come between you. Like you found each other and mutually decided to never let go again.

He didn’t fall in love with you right then, neither could he blame anything on the hormones because the two of you never went there. And it’s not like you were the only girl around, far from it. And trainees were hooking up left and right. Even he got roped into a one-night stand here and there and one very messy love triangle situation at some point, but you never went there with each other. When you hooked up with Chan at the company party one year, right after the latter joined, Changbin chalked up his discomfort to the fact that he and Chan and Jisung were starting to make music together, and he didn’t want any potential drama between you and Chan to get in the way of that.

As things for Changbin started going better and better, as him, Chan and Jisung really found their footing as 3Racha, making music and gaining so much respect from the other trainees and from all the managers and teachers, everything started falling apart for you. You were overlooked for several groups, dismissed for your talents. And Changbin tried to be there for you, but you must’ve felt it, too. The distance between where you were and where he was, where you wanted to be, grew too big. So before long, you stopped confiding in him. Stopped letting him see your tears, only the remnants of them in your bloodshot eyes the next morning. And he felt awful about it.

But then you did the unthinkable. Something he’d never seen anyone do. You walked out.

And it wasn’t just that you quit, no, you went out with a bang. A screaming match in a meeting room right down the hall from the dance practice room where everyone was gathered for evaluations, then a slam of the door and you, stalking down the hallway, with your head held high.

Changbin followed you, watched stupidly as you raged, emptied your locker, stuffed everything into a big plastic bag. He didn’t even say goodbye, frozen in place, suddenly hyper aware of two things.

One, his best friend was leaving, leaving him behind in the lion’s den, and he had no idea how he would manage it all on his own. The thought of not being with you made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to be with you, always, in every single way.

Because, and that was the second thing he realised as he watched you walk away from him, he was in love with you.

He didn’t hear from you for three weeks, three weeks he spent distracted and irritable and so, so sad and experiencing what Chan had to tell him was a broken heart. How should he have known?! He had never been in love before.

He was still reeling when he met Hyunjin. Gorgeous, tall, ethereal Hyunjin, who danced like his body was made for it, who had the cutest, dimpled smile that lit up Changbin’s whole body with fireworks when he aimed it at him.

And Changbin suddenly had to deal with the knowledge that he might be bisexual.

You texted him for the first time a month and a half after you walked out. You apologised for disappearing on him, citing your own bitterness, how you couldn’t face him while his life was so clearly headed for the stars and yours was so uncertain. But there was something else in your voice, too. You told him you were with a new company now, and if he wanted to hang out. Like old times. You phrased it like a question.

You met at your favourite sushi restaurant, not far from JYPE. You told him about your new company, about their plans for your solo career. And Changbin told you about Hyunjin. He didn’t say that he was in love with him in so many words, but in retrospect, he always knew that you knew. And, of course, you accepted him. And just like that, you were friends again.

Changbin figured he would grow out of his crush on Hyunjin, out of his unrequited love for his best friend, but that day never came. And slowly, Changbin accepted that this was just how things were going to be. At least until his worlds collided, and he introduced you to each other.

He carries his bitter thoughts around with him, hiding them, as best as he can, all day. Through work, dinner with Chan and Jisung in the studio. Through a quick gym session and into the shower, where he stays for way too long, letting the boiling water scorch his skin until it’s red.

Maybe it’s not a date! With the way you were stealing glances at Hyunjin? The way Hyunjin always served you first? Asked you so many questions about your career? Got excited when you said you liked art?? Two beautiful, single people with common interests don’t meet and stay friends. Not when they’re Y/N Y/L/N and Hwang Hyunjin.

Maybe it’s not so bad! But it is. What is he going to do? Will he have to go to your wedding? Organise your stag do? Can he be trusted not to turn into the worst kind of person and get horrendously drunk and try to kiss you before it’s too late? Will he even be friends with you still when your wedding day comes? Maybe he manages to fuck it all up way before then.

Maybe it won’t work out between them! That’s not any better. The thought of his two best friends heartbroken about each other, avoiding each other when they inevitably have to meet again … Having a lapful of either of them, upset about someone else? God, no. And it’s not like it changes anything about the fact that Changbin is hopelessly in love with you both. Though the status quo, him, pining secretly, quietly, seems likely to be the best thing he’s ever going to get.

No, it won’t do. He’s stuck. He’s stuck and doomed to sit here, with his hands tied, to watch whatever it is that’s happening between you and Hyunjin unfold, from the sidelines. It makes his skin itch.

By the time you text him that you’re outside, asking him to buzz you in, he actually considers making something up about not feeling well, about being held back at the company, anything … But he’s always been weak for you. So he lets you in.

The moment you turn the corner of the hall and see him, a wide smile lights up your face and Changbin can’t help it, his whole body relaxes a little, the warmth of your presence melting some of the pressure of his shoulders. And then you skip the last few steps to make it to him and fling yourself into his hug, and he holds you tight and thinks that maybe this is enough. Maybe he’ll be alright as long as he can have this.

It’s casual, familiar, the way he invites you in without a word, the way you know where to put your shoes, where to pull out the guest house slippers, and immediately pick the pink ones you always use. For a brief moment, Changbin wonders if a few months down the line you will be doing all of this when you visit Hyunjin. If it will be him, then, watching you go through these motions, before he gets to lead you to his room and kiss you and touch you however he wants to and know he can have you for the rest of his life.

“Where is everyone?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen, set down the convenience store bag Changbin hadn’t even noticed was dangling off your wrist.

Changbin shrugs.

“Chan and Jisung are still at the studio, and probably will be for a while. They looked like they were getting into one of their zones when I left.”

You give him an adorable, playful smile.

“Aw, you skipped out on one of your intense 3racha studio nights for me? Why do I actually feel flattered?”

Changbin forces a smile. Silly you, I would do anything for you. He shrugs.

“Wasn’t feeling it today. Plus, I wanted to hit the gym.”

You nod absentmindedly, stare at the convenience store bag for a second, before you speak again.

“… and Hyunjin?” you ask without looking at him. Daggers. A hundred daggers to his chest. He clears his throat, tries to sound as casual as he possibly can.

“Honestly, no idea where he is, I haven’t seen him since I got home, so I guess he’s out somewhere.”

You hum, nod, then busy yourself with rooting around the bag.

“So I got us a bunch of savoury snacks, since I know you like those better,” you say, your voice back to being upbeat. Changbin does his best to catch up with his heart still aching. “But I also got some sweet ones.”

You lift up some Chocosongi with a smile and Changbin forces a smile back.

It hurts, how simple it all is. How easily you slip into habit. How normal it feels for him to hand you a pair of his sweatpants to change into in the bathroom, to unpack the snacks while you’re changing, dig up the projector from the bottom of his backpack, pile up the pillows on his bed until they are at the perfect fluffiness. How sweet you look when you skip back into the room and collapse on his bed, on your dedicated side, curling up on your side, pretending to go to sleep, with a devastating little fake snore, because “your bed is way too cozy, Bin.”

It hurts, but he smiles, because how could he not. He plays along, exclaims a soft “Yah! you wanted to see this movie!” and turns off some of the lights until the whole room is bathed only in the soft warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table, ignores the ache and settles in next to you.

He remains on his back as he fiddles with the projector, and once he’s got it on and connected to his phone, he sets it on the sheets between you, and you squeal with pure delight. It looks great, even he has to admit, the size of the movie just right, the colours vivid but soft against the white of his ceiling, the warm glow of light in his room making it look nothing short of magical.

Changbin wishes he could turn and see it reflected in your face, your eyes probably sparkling with it, but he doesn’t trust himself not to break down crying or say something he might regret. So instead, he just clicks up the volume another notch, takes the opened bag of chips you offer him, and settles back.

He hadn’t realised just how exhausted he was, but lying here, the pillows, the duvet, so soft and inviting underneath him, your warm body next to him, calmly rising and falling with every breath, not really touching much, but still comfortingly there, your socked foot pressed against his calf, the back of your hand resting against his shoulder where it’s curled under your cheek, brushing against him every time you reach for one of the little chocolate mushrooms … the exhaustion sinks into his bones and makes him melt into it. The movie, its music and dialogue coming through the speaker of his phone between you, the taste of the salty snacks on his tongue, your soft voice when you give your commentary on something that’s happening. How the sheets rustle when you move to reach for another little chocolate mushroom. He can smell you, your perfume like a soothing balm on his nerves, and he wishes he could freeze time and just stay here, with you, like this, forever.

He’s almost dozing off when you mumble something and Changbin turns his head to you without thinking and suddenly, you’re face to face on his pillow, your nose only a bare few centimetres from his. Changbin is suddenly wide awake and he holds his breath.

And you … do, too. You suck in a breath, eyes wide, blinking rapidly, gaze dipping down to his lips. There’s so much softness in it, softness that Changbin never thought he would get to see directed at him. That and … fear?

“Bin,” you mumble, absentminded, like you’re just saying his name to see what it will taste like. Your warm breath, sweet and chocolatey, fans against his lips, and he watches, frozen, entirely helpless, as you carefully tip your face forwards and press your lips to his.

Any thought he could’ve had evaporates the moment you kiss him. His eyes flutter shut readily, and he gasps into your lips in a way he’s sure he would be embarrassed by, if he had his wits about him. It’s a soft kiss, just a touch of your lips to his, then another even lighter one. Only when you hesitate, make as if to pull back, he realises he didn’t kiss you back. His hand shoots out, cradles around the soft expanse of your cheek, your jaw, and he pulls you back in because if this is all he’s ever allowed to have, he needs you to at least feel how much he wants you.

And he kisses you now. Properly. Presses his lips against yours firmly, but gently, tasting every ridge of them, greedily breathing in the dizzying scent of your skin where his nose is pressed into the soft skin of your cheek.

It’s like every single one of his daydreams, but better. Because when your lips open up for him, you taste real, the chocolate on yours mixing with the salt on his own tongue to create an intoxicating balance and underneath it all, he can taste something he knows, is undeniably the taste of you.

This time, neither of you pull back. It’s like the floodgates have opened and Changbin’s desire has finally been unleashed and there’s no stopping it now. Pandora’s box is open, and it’s all right there. Halfheartedly, he tries to keep his hope locked away, but his desire is free, trembles through him with every swipe of your tongue until you’re panting, gasping into each other’s lips with every wet slide of your mouths.

Changbin’s tongue is hungry, but his shaking hands hover helplessly, one still cradled around the side of your face, the other resting on his own stomach, itching to reach out but … he’s not sure how much he’s allowed. He doesn’t want to overstep, to make you uncomfortable, but then, as if you can read his mind, you scoot closer, so eagerly you knock over the projectors, fist your hand into the material of his t-shirt at his waist to pull him closer and Changbin’s entire brain short-circuits. He needs more.

Parting his lips from yours is a superhuman feat, but he does so, only enough to be able to blearily reach between you and get the damn projector and his phone out of the way, locking his phone, shutting off the movie in the process, and blindly shoving both it and the projector onto his nightstand. His phone thuds onto the carpet, but he doesn’t care, because you’re pouncing on him again as soon he turns back, pulling him against you with greedy hands until he can feel every inch of your warm body pressed against his, every arch of your back, slide of your foot against his calf.

In the silence of the room, without the movie playing in the background, Changbin can hear the slick slide of your tongues, every single hitch of your breath and all of it is so much, entirely too much almost in a way that is addicting.

And he doesn’t know if he’s crazy, but somehow, you’re still here, kissing him, trying to press even closer, as if it was possible, making the prettiest sound into Changbin’s mouth, until you throw your leg over his hips and grind forward and Changbin moans, pathetically. He’s hard. Embarrassingly so. Pulsing and aching, probably leaking into his underwear, and you seem to like it, because you grind (what Changbin can hardly think about without losing his damn mind) your clothed pussy down harder and moan right back.

You want this.

The thought drowns him, and he finally stops resisting, flips himself until he’s almost on top of you, dragging his palm down until he can grab your ass and grind you over his cock and oh, fuck.

You whimper, your mouth momentarily going slack against his, allowing him to suck your bottom lip between his own, drawing another perfect little mewl from you. Your hips twitch, make an aborted little move, chasing the friction of Changbin’s body, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. He ruts forward, uses his strength to grind you to meet him over and over again, and it feels so good, makes pleasure pool in Changbin’s abdomen at an alarming rate, his mind going fuzzy with the chase of his orgasm.

But before he loses himself, in a moment of lucidity, that he has no idea where it came from, he pulls back.

Which he almost immediately regrets, because you’re staring up at him, chest heaving, face flushed and dewy, lips shiny and swollen, your gaze so glassy and filled with so much trust, it makes reality crash over him.

“Y/Nie … baby …” he mumbles, and you must’ve heard something in his voice because panic flashes over your face, and you shake your head.

“N-no, Binnie, please,” you whisper, shaky hands reaching out, trying to pull him in again, “I need you.”

Changbin doesn’t know how he resists the gentle demands of your fingertips, how he pulls away another few inches before you make a sound that is so heartbreaking it keeps him frozen in place.

“Y/Nie I can’t …” he starts, but words fail him. What was he going to say? Tell you not to go out with Hyunjin? Tell you he loved him? That he loved you? Tell you, right here, right now? You deserved better than that.

You blink, blink again, and suddenly water is gathering at your lash line.

“It’s okay, Binnie, it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you beg, and the words feel like a slap in the face. “Just … just please, kiss me, touch me, fuck me. I need you. Please. Just … just this once, we can never talk about it again.”

Changbin should walk away. He knows it. He should get up, put some distance between you, save himself a lot of heartache and you the embarrassment of having to break your best friend’s heart.

But …

But this might be your last chance a selfish, petty part of him pipes up.

He doesn’t know how he is going to live with just this one time. How he’ll go for the rest of his days knowing what your body tastes like without ever getting to have it again, but he’ll learn. It can’t be worse than the heartache of never knowing.

When he dips back down, presses his lips against yours, you sigh in relief.

Your hands are everywhere – buried in his hair, running down his arms, tugging at the waistband of his sweats, slipping under his hoodie, colder fingers against heated skin, eagerly trying to feel more and more of him until you seemingly have enough. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you pull, and the sting of it sends a shiver down his spine.

With a surprising amount of strength (though not enough to move him, was he not so ridiculously down bad and pliant for you) you push at him until his back hits the mattress. You swing your leg over his hips and, with a single-minded determination in your eyes, sit yourself right on his cock, making him gasp out your name, before you shove your fingers back under his shirt, rucking it up until he half sits up and lets you pull it off him.

And yeah, he feels exposed like this. Shirtless, underneath you, at your mercy, pressed against the sheets, his belly probably a little softer than usual because he’s been bulking.

But the way you stare at him, rake your eyes over his torso, the way your fingertips trace his skin, the way you bite your lip when goosebumps follow in their wake – he forgets to be self-conscious. Because, yes, you want him, and you’re not holding back an ounce of your admiration, but also, it’s you. He’s never felt as safe with anyone as he has felt with you.

You lean down and kiss him, a lot sweeter now, though still demanding, your palms smoothing over his pecs, up to his shoulder, over his bare arms, like you’re trying to feel every inch of his exposed skin. It makes him feel dizzy.

You pull back and stare at him, breathing heavily, your sparkling eyes so close to his that the barely contained I love you nearly slips past his lips.

“C-can I suck you off?” you whisper, and Changbin briefly wonders if he’s going to survive this.

He lets a tentative hand travel up your arm until he can smooth your hair out of your face. You blink, lean into his touch, and your breath hitches. He burns.

You’re still staring at him, waiting for the answer to your question, and he breathes out a shaky laugh. Instead of answering, he, as carefully as he can, flips you back underneath him. But now the way you’re staring up at him is even worse for his heart.

“I’m going to bust so fast if you do that,” he confesses and watches you giggle, “maybe next time.”

Next time?

He wants to slap himself.

You blink at him, something unreadable in your eyes, and then you nod.

“Next time,” you whisper, sadly, wrap your hand around his neck and pull him down. It’s the sweetest kiss yet, something in it that Changbin can’t place, that makes his heart thud heavily in his chest.

One of your legs wraps around his waist and pulls him down, his cock grinding down right where you need it, and it makes a heavy moan rumble out from deep in your chest. The kiss turns heavier and wetter until Changbin has to come up for air. He keeps his eyes closed, presses wet kisses down your cheek, your jaw, until he hits the neckline of your shirt.

He pulls back, forces himself to breathe, to slow down, to look into your eyes even though it hurts.

“Do you want this? We can stop …” he mumbles. He’s ready — ready to accept this is all he gets, ready to ignore his heart burning a hole in his chest with the inhuman need to slip you out of these clothes and worship every inch of your body. But one word from you, a single shred of doubt in your eyes, and he would stop.

But you shake your head, your face so vulnerable it makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and keep you safe, here, for the rest of your life.

“I want this, I really do,” you whisper, and then, brokenly, you make Changbin’s world spin out of control. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The words hurt like a knife, because he knows you don’t mean them the way he does.

He doesn’t respond, instead kisses you again, tries to drown everything he can’t say in the rapture that is your lips. He lets his hand wander over the legs he’s been dreaming about, legs wrapped in his sweatpants, wrapped around his hips. He slides his palms up, until he can slip it underneath your shirt and ruck it up and off and tries his best not to lose his head when you’re bared to him and then again when he unclips your bra, mercifully with little to no fumbling, and your nipples and soft skin of your tits and your belly are pressed against his own.

You sigh into him, fingernails digging into his bicep so hard he shudders. He hopes it will leave a mark.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers. He keeps his eyes closed, unable to face the effect his words may have.

“Touch me, Binnie,” you whisper back, and he shudders again. The way you say his name makes his body thrum with need.

“I will,” he finds himself mumbling, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I will, angel, I’ll make you feel good.”

And with no further hesitation he sits up, places his shaking hands on your hips, thumbs smoothing over the skin right over your waistband.

He’s thought about this a lot, he’s ashamed to admit, but nothing comes close to you right in front of him because — you’re perfect. More perfect than he could have ever imagined, because now he can see all the little birthmarks, all the tiny scars and the light lines of stretch marks, and he tries to drink it all in, tries to catalogue every single thing so he can conjure them up in all his worst fantasies for the rest of his life.

But maybe he took a little bit too long because you’re saying his name again, in that small, vulnerable voice and every single inch of his body is consumed with the need to please you.

So he pulls at your waistband, slowly pulls it down, leaning in until he can press his lips against the skin of your tits, swirl his tongue over your gorgeous, hard nipples, before he goes down, down, over the softness of your belly, your hips, then down your thighs as he tries not to lose his goddamn mind.

Because he can smell you now. You, the smell of your skin, remnants of your shower gel and the lotion you rub in after, but also your arousal, the sweet tang of it coating his tastebuds already before he has even gotten the chance to get his mouth on you.

He slides one leg, then the other out of his sweats, and you let him, one arm slung over your face in overwhelm, making a pretty little noise when they’re all the way off, and you’re naked in front of him.

Changbin can’t resist it. He lets his eyes roam over you as he tentatively palms his rock-hard cock over his own sweats, and pleasure rolls heavy through his whole body.

“Oh, pretty,” he sighs. It just slips out. You whimper, breathe out his name. One of his palms slides up your calf.

“Can I, pretty? Can I touch you?”

You breathe out an airy chuckle that Changbin thinks for a moment feels almost a little sad, before you nod.

“Of course, Binnie, of course you can. Please touch me.”

It’s all he needs.

He lets his palm slide further up your leg, up to your thigh, you part your legs for him effortlessly, offer yourself to him. He lowers himself onto the mattress slowly, eyes glued to where you’re glistening and quivering and smelling so divine his mouth is watering, before he leans in and laves his tongue gently over your clit a couple times, easing you into it.

Your taste sears itself into his taste buds, sweet, tangy, intoxicating, and he wants more, wants to fucking drown in it, in you, and he leans in and attaches his lips to your core, darts his tongue out, laves at your pretty little hole, dips into the wet heat of it, before travelling back up, slick smearing all over his chin as he sucks your clit between his lips.

He’s being messy, and he knows it, his fingers digging into your skin probably a little too deep for comfort, but you’re not complaining, no, of course not, you’re perfect, one of your hands cards through his hair, the other arm thrown over your face as you make the sexiest breathless little noises that almost sound like sobs, and you take it all, every single thing Changbin has to give you.

Your thighs tremble in his hands, your hips stuttering upwards in aborted little movements, your little moans growing in volume, one of your ankles digging into his back and, nonetheless, when you come, whole body shivering, chanting his name, spurting the sweetest sweetness he has ever tasted right into his mouth, it takes him by surprise. He didn’t expect you to come for him so easily, so effortlessly, but you don’t seem to be holding back.

Changbin laps at your release, licks it up and swallows it down while he can before you gently push him away, trembling with the oversensitivity. Your eyes are lidded, your hair a mess and there’s a wet stain on his sheets right underneath your hips, and Changbin can’t believe he gets to see you like this, let alone the fact that he did this to you.

You sit up, gloriously naked and unbelievably beautiful, and reach for him, soft fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him forwards until your lips are on his again, and it feels like coming home, sends warm shivers down his spine. He sighs into your lips, and you sigh back, dragging him back down to the mattress with you, skin against skin again, his chest moulding against yours like they were made for each other. He could stay here forever just kissing you, but there’s a fire in his abdomen, a hard, insistent pressure against your body, and your fingers slip under his waistband.

You tuck his sweats and underwear down quickly, one hand still curled around his neck and slipping into his hair, the other shoving at the offending fabric until you can’t reach any more and use your feet to shuck them the rest of the way off — something Changbin shouldn’t find as hot as he does, though he is mightily distracted by the way your tongue is licking against his, the way you’re tugging at his hair, dragging him this way and that into the kiss, making his brain go fuzzy.

When your hand curls around his cock, he physically jolts, his body more sensitive than it’s ever been. He wants to say something, anything, self-consciousness curling in his belly, something about how he knows he isn’t too big, but you don’t give him the chance.

Your hand tightens on him, and he keens, and you whisper a breathless, appreciative fuck into the tight space between you. Wordlessly, with your heels digging into his lower back, you pull him closer, until his lips are back on yours and his cock is pressed against your entrance, and it doesn’t take any convincing for him to follow where you’re leading him and press inside. His moan collides with yours when he bottoms out, your back arching into his arms, and he holds you closer, noses against your jaw, trying to ground himself.

It’s unreal, the feeling of you. Hot, tight, velvety, wet, you. He’s inside of you. His cock throbs and his breath stutters out of him, and somehow you’re right there with him, your fingers shaking as one of your hands anchors itself back into his hair and drags him close.

He doesn’t know how he manages to start moving but when he does, it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He grinds forward, buries himself as far as he will go, and you follow him, open your mouth into a gasp, and when he pulls back you chase him, smear your lips against his. Your bodies moving together, sweat slick skin sliding against sweat slick skin, hot breath mingling until he forgets where he ends and you begin. It’s so intimate it makes him feel insane, utterly out of his mind with how overwhelmingly good it is.

He fucks forward harder, and he is rewarded with a gorgeous moan, punched out of you at the same time as his headboard smacks against the wall, and he says a quiet thanks to whoever’s listening that they’re alone in the dorm, because he can do it again, draw another moan out of you.

“B-binnie,” you mewl, and his arms nearly give out. He vaguely registers himself making a shaky, helpless little noise in response. “So … fuck … good … harder.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his body responding as if it’s an entity entirely separate from his reason, only focused on giving you what you need. He plants his palm against the headboard for leverage and fucks you harder, lets himself go, his own moans colliding with yours between your heated lips, deafeningly loud in the previously quiet room, now resounding with the sound of his hips slamming into yours, the wet slide of your pussy as it swallows his cock, the headboard thunking against the wall – it’s filthy, but it’s like music to him. You’re the best he’s ever had.

You whimper into his lips, drag him in for another kiss, scrape your fingernails over his bicep and heat curls dangerously, deep in his guts, a kind of barbed wire pleasure, building and building. And no matter how much he wishes this could last forever, he knows he won’t last much longer.

He drags his hand from the headboard, down your body, shoves it between your bodies, unwilling to part more than he has to. When he reaches between your legs, where his cock is pumping in and out of you, it’s soaked, and he moans out pathetically. With the first touch of his fingers against your clit, you throw your head back, eyebrows knitted together, lips parted in a beautiful little o and Changbin dives down, peppers kisses all over your jaw and down your neck. He can taste your skin, salty from the sweat, bitter from your perfume, sweet in all the other ways.

Your legs wind around his waist, and it changes the angle, makes his cock drag against your walls just right to make him shudder, and you gush around him, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, trying to hold on.

“P-please,” you sob out, “d-don’t stop … ‘m so close …”

As if he would, Changbin thinks. His fingers are sliding over your clit, and he pumps his hips forward, lets himself chase his own pleasure, just a little bit, and you’re clenching tighter and tighter and then …

You come with a choked moan of his name, walls locking around him, pulsing and fluttering, and it’s almost too much, the knowledge of it, of you underneath him, letting him take you apart like this, trusting him with your body, your pleasure.

With the last, tattered remnant of his reason, he pulls out, wraps his hand around his slick cock and pumps furiously only for a second before pleasure explodes through his body, and he comes in ropes and ropes, all over your belly, the pleasure zinging through his veins so strong it almost knocks him out, if it weren’t for your grounding fingers carding through his hair.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It’s entirely wrong.

He shudders through the last dregs of his orgasm, a bead of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose before it drops onto the pillow next to your head. If he breathes in, he knows he’ll smell the combined smell of you and him in your hair.

He pulls back quickly, but is stopped by the opposing force of your hand on his neck, and he realises a beat too late that you were trying to pull him closer. But the damage is done. Your face falls, your hands dropping to the mattress on either side of you. You turn your head as you wait for Changbin to pull out, to climb off you. And in his stupor, in the turmoil of heartache and confusion in his heart, he does.

You look fragile like that, head pillowed on his sheets, knees knocking together as you try to hide, his cum beaded all over your pretty belly.

“I’ll get you a towel, okay?” he mumbles, trying to be as gentle as he can, but it can’t contend with the awkwardness that’s hanging thickly in the air.

He somehow manages to pull on his boxers, stumbles from the room, into the bathroom; he catches a glance of himself in the mirror, his face pale, his eyes wide and scared, and nearly loses his head. In and out, he tells himself. You can’t lose it now, you’ve got to take care of her. No matter what, you’ve got to take care of her.

Eyes glued to his hands, to the sink, he fishes out one of the hand towels under the sink, wrenches the tap to the hottest setting it will go, willing it to heat up faster. He needs to get back to you. He needs to fix this.

As soon as the water is lukewarm, he drenches the towel, squeezes it out and just about resists the urge to run back to his room. But as soon as he steps in and meets your eyes and dread almost overwhelms him. Everything is so wrong.

He approaches the bed, and he can see his own hesitation mirrored in your face, mirrored in the cold hard hurt shivering across your face. He’s frozen with helplessness, unable to figure out what to do, how to fix this thing he’s broken.

You pull the towel out of his numb fingers where he’s standing next to you without moving and start cleaning yourself up, wiping at the sticky residue of his cum, until you’re clean, hurriedly dropping the towel onto the bed next to you and swinging your legs over the side.

“Uh … I should get going,” you mumble, as you awkwardly step around him where he’s still rooted to the spot next to the bed. Only when you’re dressed, does he dare to turn around.

When your eyes meet, it punches the rest of his confidence out of him. You blink and make to turn around, but Changbin takes a step forward, catches your wrist in his hands, holds you back with a desperation that he’s unable to mask.

“Y/N …” he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. You stop easily, let yourself get pulled back to him, just like that. His heart throbs.

“We’re okay, right?” There’s a beat of silence, then you soften, just a little. You nod, and he lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “of course we’re okay.”

What washes through him isn’t relief, but it’s something. Maybe hope that he hasn’t irrevocably fucked everything up. He needs you, needs you with him, in his life, however he is allowed to have you. He can’t do this without you. He never could.

He gives your wrist the smallest, gentlest tug – just a suggestion. You step forward and right into his waiting arms.

He folds you against his bare chest, breathes out a shaky breath. He can feel your breath against his collarbone, the softness of your cheek against his shoulders. The comforting weight of you against him. You’re okay. You’ll be okay. He doesn’t know if it’s true. He has to believe it.

It’s only a few moments before you pull back, barely looking at him.

“I still … I’m gonna go …” you mumble, and he nods.

He follows you to the door, uselessly. Watches as you pull on your shoes, carelessly leave the house slippers out, something you never do. You always put them back.

With one last shaky smile, you pull the door shut behind you and Changbin is left behind in the dead silence of the empty dorm to deal with the aftermath.

He manages to make it back to his room before the first sob racks through him, his chest constricting painfully until he can barely breathe. Through his blurry eyes, he rips the sheets off his bed, a button pinging off the pillow case, but he can’t care. He doesn’t bother putting new sheets on, only crawls into bed. And he cries.

And because he really does seem to be the punchline of some cosmic joke, the first person he sees when he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, is Hyunjin.

He looks up when Changbin walks in, and he freezes, before he turns sharply.

Changbin didn’t even bother looking in the mirror before stumbling out of his room on a desperate hunt for a cup of coffee that would cure his pounding head. He knows he probably doesn’t look dewy fresh and his eyes are probably swollen, but Hyunjin’s reaction nonetheless makes him falter. He hesitates in the doorway.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, only keeps his back to him, hands aimlessly fiddling with the coffee machine, pulling out the drip tray, emptying it into the sink even though it’s barely half full, then shoving it back into the machine. It catches on something and there’s a sickening crunching sound that startles him. He pulls it back out and shoves it back in, a little softer this time, though Changbin can see it now. His hands are shaking.

Hyunjin turns abruptly, makes for the door, but then realises Changbin is right there, blocking it, and stops.

A beat passes where Changbin can finally see Hyunjin’s eyes, and he can’t read them at all. He looks … vaguely annoyed. Confused. Upset? Why?

Chan’s door opens and his voice travels down the hallway.

“Yo, is the coffee machine still on?”

Hyunjin opens his mouth, though his answering yes takes a long moment to come out. It only makes its way past his lips when Chan is already pushing past Changbin and into the kitchen.

When Chan’s eyes fall on Changbin, he hesitates, eyebrows knitting together in worry.

“Woah, Bin, you alright? You look rough.”

Changbin drags his eyes away from Hyunjin’s, forces a smile onto his face.

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he croaks out, and Chan nods understandingly, gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“Did you and Y/N watch something scary again even though neither of you like horror?” he chuckles, as he makes his way to the coffee machine, past Hyunjin who’s now fiddling with his phone, leaning against the counter next to the sink.

Changbin murmurs something to the negative, his heart aching somewhere deep in his chest at the mention of you. Ah, remember when things were normal, he thinks. How they could’ve remained normal, if he hadn’t been so fucking stupid and ruined everything …

“By the way, Jinnie,” Chan asks, slides his stupidly large to go cup under the spout, and presses the button, “did my package arrive last night?”

The coffee machine screams to life, and it makes Changbin’s ears ring.

“W-what? Package?” Hyunjin asks, when the noise stops, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uneasily.

Chan nods.

“It was meant to come yesterday and I figured, since you and Bin were both home, but he was watching a movie with Y/N, maybe you would hear the door? You were home last night, weren’t you?”

Changbin prays. He prays to whatever deity is out there that Hyunjin doesn’t say yes, tells Chan no, he was out, at the other dorm, hanging out with Jeongin or Seungmin or …

“I was,” Hyunjin says quietly, “but I didn’t … hear the door. I was painting.”

Chan nods and pulls out his phone.

Changbin is frozen in place, staring at Hyunjin, who avoids his eyes. If he was home, then he heard. He must have, right? There was no way …

“Ah, typical,” Chan exclaims, makes both Changbin and Hyunjin jump, “it got delayed. It’ll be delivered this afternoon when we have dance practice. Oh well, I’ll let the doorman know. Thanks though!”

He slides the lid onto his to go cup and makes for the door.

“You ready to go, Bin? We have a meeting with the mixing agent in 40.”

Changbin has never been more grateful for an excuse to get the fuck away from Hyunjin for a few hours.

“Y-yeah, just … need a quick shower,” he mumbles, and Chan nods, already walking down the hallway.

"Make it a quick one, I’ll wake Jisung."

Changbin flees from the kitchen without looking back. He thinks he doesn’t breathe until the bathroom lock clicks shut behind him.

Hyunjin heard. Hyunjin heard. It’s … bad. It’s confusing. Most of all, it’s humiliating.

He strips as quickly as he can, faster still when he drags his shirt over his head, and he catches a whiff of your perfume, and it nearly makes him nauseous. He steps in the shower and turns it all the way to cold.

What’s humiliating is not the sex, no, god, it couldn’t have been the sex. That, itself, was earth-shattering, life-changing, nothing short of magical. But the thought of him hearing you like that? Exposing you, exposing Changbin himself, when you trusted him that you were alone? It makes him feel sick.

Worse, what if he heard the awkwardness after. What if he heard Changbin crying. Fuck.

He scrubs shampoo into his hair, body wash down his body. When he rinses away the suds, they expose faint red lines along his shoulder, down his biceps. They ache with the memory of your nails. Changbin shudders.

There’s a knock on the door.

“We’ve got twenty minutes, Bin, we really need to go.”

“Coming,” Changbin shouts back and turns off the water.

He gets out, towels off and finally takes a glance in the mirror. He looks normal, except for the faint red lines … well, those and the giant bags under his eyes. As he stares himself down, he sees his phone light up, and he picks it up at lightning speed. But it’s just Jeongin. Asking if he was going to hit the gym today.

Changbin sighs, puts his phone back down.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

You don’t text him that day. Or the next.

Changbin’s a fucking mess.

He’s distracted. Takes 20 takes to get one part of his rap right. Snaps at Jisung so hard he actually makes him cry. Forgets a meeting. Steps on Felix’s foot during dance practice.

Not that anyone noticed. They all treat him the same, nobody looking at him twice. He doesn’t know what’s pissing him off more, their ignorance, or his own petty, way too emotional reaction to it.

Between that, and Hyunjin’s severe mood swings, Changbin feels like he’s at sea, being tossed back and forth by the whims of anyone but him. And that pisses him off, too.

Hyunjin … he doesn’t know how Hyunjin feels. Because one second, he’s meeting his eyes staring daggers at him through the mirror in the dance practice rooms, muttering something to Felix that Changbin can’t shake the feeling is about him. The next, he bumps Jisung aside when they get into the car to go home and forces himself into the seat next to Changbin, his thigh falling against his – all while stubbornly refusing to look at him. Changbin doesn’t even dare say his name. What was he going to say anyway? “Hey, Hyune, did you hear me and Y/N fuck? Is that why you’re insert-whatever-adjective-here” because it’s not like Changbin can figure it out.

Because Hyunjin drags his palm over his knee before he gets out, but the next morning he slams the bathroom door into his face so hard it nearly breaks Changbin’s nose. But then he fucking stares again, in the dressing room, big, dark eyes burning into Changbin’s back as he is shooed around by the make-up noonas.

But all of it, it doesn’t make any damn sense. Hyunjin’s upset, clearly, but Changbin can’t figure out what he’s upset about – or what he plans to do about it. Is he upset because Changbin fucked you the week before he was meant to take you out? Is that it? Does he think it was some petty move to keep his best friend to himself? Except that logic doesn’t hold up very well, now, does it, since Changbin’s pretty sure he fucked up your friendship entirely.

Sometime on Thursday afternoon, he has convinced himself that Hyunjin’s mad because you cancelled on him. It took a while to allow himself to think that way, because the delusions – well, he would love to tell himself you probably just cancelled because you hooked up with anyone, and it didn’t feel fair to Hyunjin, but then again he knows you’re not like that, and then his brain starts to feed him hope, hope that you cancelled because you can’t stop fucking thinking about him the way he can’t stop thinking about you, replaying every single moment, both the good and the bad, until he’s sure he will never forget a single one of your noises, a single one of your unbelievably sexy moans of his fucking name …

But Felix skips and jumps over and makes his whole world turn upside down again.

He bounds over to where Hyunjin is sitting on the floor next to where Changbin is lounging on the sofas, Hyunjin’s hand resting on Changbin’s shoes. He’s still refusing to look Changbin in the eye – but his pinky finger is tracing the line of Changbin’s ankle through his sock.

Changbin wonders if this is what the first symptoms of insanity feel like.

“Hyunjinniiiiieee,” Felix sing-songs, plops himself down on the floor next to Hyunjin and slings one arm over his shoulder. “Do you have plans on Saturday and do you want to go shopping with me?”

Hyunjin hums, leans into Felix’s touch, his hand leaving Changbin’s foot in favour of patting Felix’s hand.

“Sorry, Yongbok-ah, I’m busy,” he hums, his voice calm and honeyed, though Changbin doesn’t miss how he starts fidgeting with his ring.

“Ah, right, you’re going out with Y/nie right?” Felix exclaims and gives Changbin a wide smile, before his attention is back on Hyunjin.

From where he’s sitting, Changbin can’t see Hyunjin’s face, only sees him turn to Felix and nod slightly.

“Forgot about that, sorry, Jinnie,” Felix mumbles, brings his hand to Hyunjin’s back and starts kneading the muscles there. Hyunjin’s head falls forward with a little moan that, on any normal day, would send Changbin’s thoughts straight into the gutter. “What are you gonna do? Or where are you taking her? Wait … is this a … you know?”

Hyunjin bumps Felix with his leg, so hard, Felix lets out a little yelp. He blinks at Hyunjin, then Changbin, before he blushes.

“We’re going to see that exhibition I told you about. The one none of you wanted to go to with me,” Hyunjin states, bluntly, both of his hands now busy twirling his ring around his finger in his lap.

“What?! You didn’t ask me! I would’ve said yes!” Felix exclaims, indignant and wide-eyed.

Changbin doesn’t need to see Hyunjin to know he’s glaring at Felix. There’s nothing Hyunjin hates more than when someone forgets something he said to them.

“Yes, I did. Three weeks ago. When we got chicken. I asked everyone, even manager-hyung. And you said you didn’t care for modern art.” Felix falters, freckled face falling into an expression of embarrassment.

“Oh,” he mumbles, “well, I would’ve gone with you if I’d known nobody else wanted to go.”

Hyunjin scoffs, tosses his hair out of his eyes. He brings his hands up to his face, as if he’s inspecting his cuticles.

“Well, she wanted to go. Really wanted to, actually. She asked me to take her.” He says it nonchalantly, his voice the picture of calm confidence, but Changbin can see the muscles tick in his neck.

‘He asked me to go to this art exhibit with him this weekend’ the memory of your voice says. Changbin tries not to let it get to him. He fails spectacularly.

Hyunjin tosses his head again and gets up, his arm brushing sparks against Changbin’s leg as he gets up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go shower.”

He’s out the door before Changbin or Felix can say another word.

Then Felix looks at Changbin and Changbin is out of his seat at lightning speed.

“Hyung …” Felix sighs, his eyes big and round and full of pity. Changbin shakes his head.

“You don’t like that Hyunjin and Y/N are going on a date?”

Changbin doesn’t answer, focuses instead on shoving his towel, his bottle, his phone’s portable battery, all of it into his backpack.

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know?” Felix tries again, “but then I think you should tell them, instead of keeping it inside.”

“Yongbok-ah …” Changbin says, warningly, and it comes out a lot meaner than he intends to. He watches Felix flinch and sighs.

“Please, drop it.”

Felix deflates and Changbin feels even worse.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but if you do end up wanting to talk about it, I’m here, okay?”

Changbin nods, pats Felix’s shoulder and gets up.

Changbin knows that he won’t. He can’t even begin to think of confessing all of this to Chan, how could he unload it onto Felix, his most precious dongsaeng. But he knows Felix will feel better if he agrees. So he lies.

“I will, thank you, Yongbok-ah.”

When Changbin’s phone buzzes on the mixing desk next to Chan at 1am on Friday night, 12 hours out from when he presumes your date with Hyunjin is, Changbin doesn’t even bother to check it.

But Chan glances over and picks it up.

“Y/N’s texting,” he says, casually, and hands Changbin his phone, like Changbin’s heart didn’t just fall into his ass.

If he was alone, Changbin doesn’t know if he would’ve checked it. But Chan is right there, and he doesn’t have the strength to make up an excuse for why he would be ignoring a text from his best friend. So he unlocks his phone.

from: Y/Nie hey hey Y/Nie is typing….

“Do you think we should keep Seungmin’s first or second take?” Chan asks. Changbin blinks at him and Chan presses play, brows furrowed, eyes glued to the screen.

They sound identical.

“I think the first one’s better, right?” Chan muses, and Changbin’s phone buzzes in his hands.

“Yeah, totally,” he mumbles, and whips his head back down. You texted again. His heartbeat picks up.

from: Y/Nie sorry for the radio silence 😅 kinda had to convince myself you didn’t hate me because you didn’t text me either but then I realised that that is hypocritical of me so here I am … please don’t hate me

Butterflies. A swarm of them. Something warm, dripping down Changbin’s spine. Regret, still, too much of it to put into words, but mostly … relief.

As quickly as he can, he replies.

from: me of course, I don’t hate you I could never

He tries to calm down, tells himself not to be too honest. Not when the situation is so fragile. Not over text.

from: Y/Nie THANK GOD

The message makes him huff out a laugh, and Chan looks over and gives him a little smile. Changbin blushes.

The dots, the little Y/Nie is typing…. text blinks in and out of existence for a solid minute before your next message pops up.

from: Y/Nie because I kinda really missed you

Changbin takes a deep, steadying breath.

I missed you, too is what he wants to say. I missed you, too, I always do. I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did. I wish I could stop loving you, but I can’t. But I want you in my life in whatever form I can.

from: me I missed you, too I think chan is sick of me actually being at the studio instead of disappearing at some point and leaving him to do his work

Changbin looks up. Chan is humming under his breath, completely relaxed, editing a midi track, his knee bouncing under the table. Sorry, Chan

from: Y/Nie well, we can’t have that! chan needs to write the next big stray kids hit, we can’t have you distract him like that!

from: me yah! you say you missed me and the first thing you do is bully me

from: Y/Nie gotta keep you humble ;)

Changbin sighs. He knows this probably isn’t a solution, pretending like it never happened, just going back to how things were before. But it feels so good. And everything … it’s too big, it’s too much. And if this is the only way your friendship will survive, then he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever you give him.

It’s silent for a few seconds and Changbin wonders if that’s it, but then you text one last time.

from: Y/Nie I gotta sleep now but let’s get lunch next week?

from: me I’d love that night, y/nie

from: Y/Nie night, bin <3

It’s the heart that sustains him, makes him breathe easier for the next half hour and all the way home and into bed. He falls asleep easily for the first time in days, sleeps a dreamless, restful sleep until he wakes up to the sun peeking in through the blinds, the warm sheets – and Hyunjin yelling at Jisung to get out of the bathroom.

The realisation crashes over him without mercy.

Hyunjin is getting ready. To go out. With you.

Dread collects and settles thickly into his bones, makes him bury himself further under the sheets as he fishes for his phone and opens his chat with Chan.

from: me yo what are you doing today? wanna hit the gym and write some music?

He places his phone down on the mattress, and he waits. Listens to the sounds of the traffic outside, of the dorm slowly waking up; hears Jisung screech, then Hyunjin yell something, before a door slams.

His phone buzzes.

from: cb97 sorry, man, already at the gym now having lunch with young-hyun later probably won’t make it to the studio at all today

Changbin buries his face in his pillow and sighs. Hyunjin’s cackle sifts through the cracks in the door.

He can’t stay here. He can’t witness Hyunjin getting all dolled up, wearing some cute outfit, bouncing out of the front door on his merry way to a date that might as well seal Changbin’s fate. No, he needs to figure something out, he needs to go.

So he texts the only other person he knows would willingly spend a Saturday buried in a dark, lightless studio.

from: me yah jisung-ah what are you doing today

If he mentally says a prayer as he waits for his answer, that’s between him and his pillow.

Jisung, predictably, texts back almost immediately.

from: j.one morning hyung~~ probably gonna to the company work on some songs why?

from: me need any help? or want some company? I need to get out of the house today

There’s silence for a minute, and even Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s bickering has gone silent. Changbin tries not to let his paranoia get the best of him. Hyunjin’s getting ready. Jisung is probably just on his phone on his bed. Or texting Minho.

It takes a few minutes before Jisung finally responds.

from: j.one sure! I actually got this rap I would love to get your input on

from: me cool leave in an hour?

from: j.one 👍

And it’s so quiet that Changbin really, really thought he could get away with it. That he could leave the dorm, with Jisung, without bumping into Hyunjin but, of course, he couldn’t.

He opens his door, takes one step, and collides with Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The impact isn’t strong, only enough to send Changbin reeling back a few steps, his backpack dropping from his hand and onto the floor, but that’s not what slams the breath out of his chest.

It’s Hyunjin’s perfume, the one he only wears for special occasions, thick and floral and, at the same time, somehow manly, laced with the smell of his shampoo and his hair, curling into Changbin’s nose and making his mouth water. And it only gets worse when he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes. He’s always been a master at dramatising himself. Unlike Changbin, who’s always just the same, just … Changbin, Hyunjin knows exactly how to dress himself to look the perfect level of casual, yet fuckable. His long black hair is a little wavy, casual, and he’s wearing make-up. Not a lot, for their standards, but just a bit. Just enough. Foundation, a light shade of brown around his eyes that renders them big and soft, soft pink lip balm on his full lips that makes them look obscenely kissable. If Changbin wasn’t already terminally, irrevocably in love with him, he’s sure he would fall in love with him then. He swallows bitterly when he realises that that’s probably actually exactly what Hyunjin is going for. With you.

Hyunjin’s dressed simply, but clearly with intent. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, that’s just tight enough to sit snugly over his shoulders and his biceps and his … Changbin swallows … his pecs, and …

“Are those Jisung’s shoes?”

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them. The first words he and Hyunjin have exchanged in three days, and he’s asking about Jisung’s shoes?!

Hyunjin falters for a second, clearly stupefied by Changbin’s question. He nods slowly.

Changbin just nods back, barely manages to look Hyunjin in the eyes.

They didn’t get dressed together. Jisung knows nothing. I’m being paranoid. I’m being paranoid. Changbin, you’re being paranoid!!!!!!

Changbin must really be losing it because Hyunjin’s brows pull together in a grimace of concern that somehow makes him look even more like an angel.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

He sounds like he cares so much. Changbin wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both at the same time.

“I’m fine, Hyunjin-ah,” he forces out, forces a smile as he bends down and picks up his backpack.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin adds, almost too fast. He sucks his bottom lip, starts gnawing at it. He looks like wants to say something else, but Changbin doesn’t let him. He can’t. Who knows what this conversation could turn into. Hyunjin needs to go meet you and Changbin needs to go to the studio with Jisung. It’s better this way.

“Don’t worry about me,” he chirps, so fake it makes his teeth ache with it, and pushes past Hyunjin as fast as he possibly can. He ignores the new wave of Hyunjin’s perfume that slams into him as he makes his way to the kitchen, where, thankfully, he finds Jisung already waiting.

Jisung’s head whips up when Changbin barges in, and they only widen more when Changbin beams at him and waves him towards the door.

“Let’s go, Jisung-ah!” he exclaims, much too loudly, and turns around before he can see Jisung throw a glance towards the hallway he just came from or look at him with any more of the surprise or the concern that makes Changbin’s stomach turn.

Thankfully, Jisung follows him, doesn’t ask any questions. Only falls into step with Changbin and when Changbin asks, talks about the song he wanted help with. Jisung had always been his favourite dongsaeng.

Changbin manages not to think about you and Hyunjin for most of the day. But what he does think about, a lot, is the moment he would have to face Hyunjin. By the time he drifts off to sleep he’s sure he’s imagined all the worst possible outcomes, Hyunjin stumbling in late at night only half dressed, Hyunjin walking into the kitchen the next morning with hickeys on his neck, Hyunjin with literal hearts floating around his head for all Changbin knows – but none of that happens.

He meets Hyunjin the next day in the kitchen when he goes to get a snack. Hyunjin, dressed in his ratty old sweatpants and his hair tied up haphazardly, is filling the little transparent cup Changbin knows he uses for painting with water by the sink, looks just like he always does. He turns around, sees Changbin, and smiles. A little sheepish, a little awkward, maybe, but he smiles. And Changbin does what he does best. He takes the excuse to delude himself, and he runs with it.

On Monday, they have a schedule. Hyunjin picks the make-up chair next to him. They don’t talk much, but Hyunjin knocks his foot against his and shows him a meme of a little piglet and a bunny being friends about halfway through, a devastatingly pretty smile on his lips. Changbin smiles back.

On Tuesday, Changbin meets you for lunch at your company. You hug him hello, wrap your hand around his arm so you don’t lose him as you pull him through the packed cafeteria. You pick out his favourite melon soda from the refrigerator without him having to ask. You chatter about this album you’re working on, about your parents coming to visit in a couple weeks. You don’t talk about Hyunjin. When you smile at him and sneak half of your helping of chicken onto his plate in exchange for one of his mushrooms, he can’t bring himself to ask. He hugs you goodbye.

On Wednesday, he stays late at the studio with Chan and Jisung. They get into a flow, manage to finish the demos for two songs. Write another, late at night, delirious off sugar and lack of sleep, one that will probably never see the light of day. He loves them. He comes home smiling, waves them off down the hallway to their rooms before he gets himself a bottle of water from the fridge. He takes a little detour past Hyunjin’s room almost automatically. His door is ajar, the light on, but he can hear Hyunjin snore quietly. He creeps in, tiptoes over to the bedside table, where the light is still on, throwing a hazy warm glow over Hyunjin’s sleeping form. Glossy lips parted, eyebrows slightly drawn up, almost like he’s surprised, his hair messily fanned over the pillow half his face is smushed into, he’s the most beautiful thing Changbin has ever seen. He indulges himself, brushes a few of his strands out of his eyes, lets his fingertip drag over the curve of his cheek, before he switches off the lamp and leaves, closing the door behind him.

On Thursday, he catches Hyunjin giggling at his phone, but he’s already convinced himself that the date on Saturday was most likely a dud. Maybe not even bad, just … not as exciting as you’d hoped. Maybe you’d met and the spark you’d both felt wasn’t there. Maybe you said something about the art that gave Hyunjin the ick. Maybe his dreaminess was too much for your pragmatic nature.

Because if it had been any other way, Hyunjin wouldn’t have just gone back to normal, right? Back to leaning against Changbin in the elevator and giggling with him in the kitchen. And you, you would’ve brought it up, right? That first day at lunch, or the countless times you texted after that. Right?

If Hyunjin and you had had a good date, if you’d kissed (a notion Changbin can’t entertain for too long because the mere idea of it makes him dizzy with a lot of confusing feelings that he refuses to decode right now) or if you’d agreed on a second date, if you were still talking, he wouldn’t be here right now, two weeks later, sitting on your sofa at some ungodly hour, ripped from the studio, from Chan who watched him go with a knowing, unsurprised grin, the remnants of delivery tteokbokki and dumplings still on the table and some random drama on the TV.

Your body wouldn’t have been slowly drifting towards his over the last hour, you wouldn’t have slung your leg over his, you … you wouldn’t have fallen asleep snuggled into his shoulder the way you did. Breathing softly, fingers twitching where they were still holding on to him.

And when he carried your half awake form to your bedroom later, tucked you into bed, you wouldn’t have leaned up, murmured his name, wouldn’t have pulled him into the softest, gentlest, kiss, just the pressure of your soft lips against his …

Right?

Except you would, apparently.

Changbin wasn’t meant to go to the company the next day. He was meant to have a day off, and he didn’t mean to work, he just wanted to get his laptop because he forgot it the night before because he was so eager to get out of there to get to yours–

Changbin wasn’t meant to be here.

He wasn’t meant to round a corner and see Hyunjin, standing between your legs where you were sitting on the shoe storage outside the dance practice room, one hand caressing the skin of your back under your shirt, the other pulling your hips closer against his, as if your legs aren’t wrapped around him already. He’s not meant to see you, tonguing into Hyunjin’s open mouth, the lips that were pressed against his not even 12 hours before pulled into a delirious smile as you devour each other.

Nausea rises in Changbin’s throat when Hyunjin giggles, when you bring your hand to gently cup his face. It’s so intimate. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this isn’t the first time you’re kissing either. Changbin’s stomach turns.

He turns on his heels, makes sure not to make a sound until he rounds the corner again, and then he runs.

He makes it into one of the studios before the first tears fall.

Fuck, this hurts worse than he thought it would.

Oh, he’s so fucking stupid.

Fuck, it hurts.

Now that he’s thinking about it, really thinking about it, there had never been any indication that you stopped talking after your date. Hyunjin had gone back to normal, and so did you because … he slams his fist against the side of his head so hard that it aches. He’s so fucking stupid. Of course, you went back to normal – because that’s all you were. Friends. You and him. Hyunjin and him. Friends.

But now that he’s seen it, he can’t stop thinking about it. Your date went well. You met Hyunjin at the museum, probably looked at his stupid casual outfit that showed off his stupidly attractive body, and you had probably worn something equally casual but flattering because you, too, were good at that. And then the two of you had probably walked through the museum and talked about art and life and the human condition, with sparkling eyes, maybe your hands had brushed, maybe Hyunjin had booked the museum for after-hours so you could have it to yourself, and maybe he kissed you in front of some painting and …

His stomach feels like it’s filled with lead.

He wonders if Yongbok knows. If Hyunjin came back from his date and told Jisung and Chan.

Why hadn’t he told him?! A part of him knows, it’s because he heard you and Changbin and … maybe he felt it even before then, Changbin’s resistance to the idea of them dating. Of course, he would. Hyunjin probably knew how fucking pathetically in love Changbin was with you and probably knew that you weren’t and …

But then why did he even date you? What happened to bros before hoes? I mean he saw the sparks, he saw the glint in Hyunjin’s eyes, the smile on your face but … was it worth it to Hyunjin? Was the connection that strong?

Also … why did you kiss him last night? He knows you were sleepy, but not that sleepy, right? And you weren’t aiming for his cheek, there was no way …

Changbin’s head hurts. And so does his heart. He still doesn’t have his laptop, because he would have to walk back and past where he saw you to get it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. And he wonders how on earth he’s going to navigate this new reality.

The reality where you and Hyunjin are … well, whatever you are. His heart cracks a little in his chest when he thinks the words.

In love.

“Right,” the staff member who’s always in charge of their SKZ Code episodes says and claps her hands. She looks oddly excited. “For today, you are going to pretend to be doctors. Surgeons, nurses, whatever, get funny with it!”

She grins, takes a look at the eight boys all lined up in front of her in fake scrubs and white jeans and lab coats.

Changbin feels stupid.

He’s also in a bad mood, which doesn’t help, but the outfit makes him feel stupid. Where there was sadness, there is a slowly simmering, building rage now. Changbin’s been watching it build slowly, watching his resentment thicken, his mood sour, and he hasn’t even bothered to try to cool himself off, because what’s his other option? Going back to heartbreak? No, he’d rather be angry. At himself sometimes, but also at Hyunjin, at you, pretending everything is fine — at being forced to watch Hyunjin giggle, bite his lip at his phone at least once a day. Sometimes he even nudges Yongbok, tilts his screen, points at something and whispers and Yongbok wiggles his eyebrow. And it’s not like Changbin would’ve talked to Yongbok, even though he offered, but the idea that that option was taken from him? It also pisses him off. So Hyunjin doesn’t just get you, he also gets Felix, huh? What does Changbin get? He gets fucking nothing.

He’s still brooding as the staff sorts them into groups, chatters to them, about the games they’ll play.

“The first group is Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin and Jeongin, the other Jisung, Minho, Seungmin and Yongbok,” she announces, pointing to the two tables set-up between them, “go to your team and pick what kind of doctors you want to be. That’ll be your team name.”

Chan shimmies over to him with a blinding smile, throws an arm around him and coos his name, his usual affection, just a little bit ramped up for the cameras – and trying to lift Changbin’s mood, because of course Chan knows.

“Binniiiiie,” Chan coos with a giggle, “we’ll be in a team. What kind of doctors should we be? Brain surgeons?”

Jeongin scoffs as he makes his way to Changbin’s other side. “We’re so not smart enough for that.”

Hyunjin is the last to find his way to them and Changbin tries not to look, but of course, he does. Hyunjin looks between Changbin and Chan and Jeongin, and Changbin does his best to tell himself that what he sees in his eyes isn’t disappointment.

Hyunjin makes his way over to them, a too bright smile plastered on his face.

“We could be doctors for like muscles and stuff, because we dance so much,” Jeongin muses, half distracted by Seungmin making faces at him across the room.

Hyunjin chuckles, tips how head to the side, makes eye contact with Changbin.

“Or we could be heart doctors?” he singsongs, making Chan chuckle into Changbin’s ear.

Changbin blinks. He can’t be serious …

“Ooh, Hyunjinnie, you want to be a love doctor?” Chan coos.

Hyunjin just giggles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Changbin stays quiet. Usually, he would’ve taken the opportunity. Would have walked right over there with a dramatic sigh of Hyunjin’s name, mumbling something about him not needing a love doctor when Changbin was right there, to take care of his heart, or some bullshit. But he doesn’t. He stubbornly crosses his arms and stares at the wall.

Jeongin next to them is oblivious.

“I like it, very macho,” he chuckles, and so it’s decided.

Chan announces the team name once the staff asks, Seungmin does his usual MC duties and they play. Rock paper scissors to decide the order. A spelling game.

Changbin knows he’s quiet, but he hopes it’s not too noticeable. Or at least Stay can forgive him just this once when the episode comes out. Because he’s trying his best to stay as far away from Hyunjin as possible, and it’s equally difficult as it is heartbreaking. Because Changbin misses his best friend.

Hyunjin cackles about something Jeongin said, and throws his arm around him. And Changbin aches. He feels like he’ll never stop aching.

“Next,” Seungmin monotones, “we’re going to be diagnosing each other as — each other!”

Everyone dutifully makes confused noises. Seungmin continues.

“One member will put on a blindfold and sit in front of the cameras, and another member will be chosen to use this microphone, which distorts your voice, to give the member in front of the camera a compliment – but not as themselves, but a compliment that someone else would make.”

Oohs and aahs.

“So if it was my turn to sit there, and Jisung’s to do the compliment, and his task was to pretend to be Minho complimenting me, he would probably just go ‘good dog’.”

Jisung and everyone else laughs, and Seungmin smiles at Minho’s offended noise. And Changbin thinks this is a safe game.

Except it’s not. Of course, it isn’t.

It’s all fun and games. They have a good time, make some jokes that will surely have to be cut out, especially when it’s Jisung’s turn and Jeongin makes an obscene sound instead of a compliment Minho would make, but there’s also lots of squabbling that he knows Stay will love. But then it’s Hyunjin’s turn.

Changbin watches him sit, slide the blindfold over his silky hair, a motion that would make Changbin dizzy on a normal day. But then Felix gets shown which member he’s meant to imitate, and it’s Changbin.

“Yaaah, Hyunjin-aaah,” Yongbok scream-whispers into the microphone, to the great amusement of everyone else. “When will you finally stop playing hard to get and be my boyfriend, Hyunjin-ah? You’re so beautiful! You’re an angel! You’re the most exquisite being God has ever created …”

Jisung slaps Yongbok’s arm and Yongbok breaks out into a slew of giggles.

Everyone’s laughing. Hyunjin’s ears are bright red. Changbin feels like he’s about to cry.

He’s always been pathetic, huh, he realises. He never cared if he looked a little silly, especially because Hyunjin loved it. But now, hearing Yongbok make a joke of it, seeing everyone else cackle and throw him looks, Changbin realises he’s been making a fucking fool out of himself. His eyes burn hotter than his cheeks do. He wants to fucking die.

“Ah,” Hyunjin chuckles awkwardly. Oddly enough, he doesn’t sound like he finds it funny either. “Changbin-hyung.”

Not a question, no surprise when everyone cheers and tells him he’s right.

Hyunjin removes the blindfold with a crooked smile, and when he turns, his eyes immediately fall on Changbin. His smile falls slightly. He gets up and walks back over to them and this time, Changbin’s side is exposed, so he slots himself right in. He slings an arm around his shoulders and Changbin gets a whiff of his shampoo and Changbin …

Changbin shrugs Hyunjin’s arm off his shoulders and steps away from him in one quick motion, and everyone falls silent. Changbin can’t bear to look at Hyunjin, but based on Yongbok’s expression, Hyunjin must be upset. Changbin swallows the guilt, lets it get swallowed up by the pool of resentment bubbling inside of him. Serves him right.

Minho puts them back on track quickly, steps forward to take his place, and everyone starts babbling, recovering quickly, practised, bouncing back to their camera personas, but Changbin tunes out. Yongbok’s distorted voice keeps repeating the words over and over again in his head until Changbin feels like nothing but a cheap distortion of himself.

The last game, or rather, the last thing they film, because the segment where they have lunch mercifully was filmed when they were actually having lunch today instead of at 4pm, is a dance challenge, but with a twist. They have to spontaneously dance to whatever songs come on, their own choreographies from over the years, but with another member and a balloon lodged between the two of them. And Changbin prays, tries to catch Chan’s eyes, or Jeongin’s, but the way they’re standing, they already paired up, and the only other person left on their team is …

“Hyung, we’ll kill it,” Hyunjin chirps as he walks over to him, balloon in hand. “Remember when we did this last time, and you turned to me. Our height difference was actually helpful. I think we’ve got this one in the bag.”

Hyunjin is avoiding his eyes, chattering on, an anxious smile on his lips, and Changbin just hums. Any energy he might have had to fight the tightness in his chest is slowly draining out of him.

Hyunjin places the balloon against his own chest, steps forward and, once it’s securely held up between their bodies, drapes his arms over Changbin’s shoulders. From this position, Changbin doesn’t have a choice but look at Hyunjin.

His heart fucking aches when he does. He’s pretty, as always. No, gorgeous. Subtle make-up, hair purposely fluffy and messy, of course, but what really gets Changbin every time are his eyes. They’re big, warm, they feel like home. Especially when they’re pulling into little crescents when he smiles. Like he is right now. Smiling at him with more warmth than Changbin has felt in such a long time.

“Hi hyung,” he hums, a teasing lilt to his voice. Changbin swallows down the urge to glare at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?”

Changbin swears his eye nearly starts twitching. Hyunjin’s breath puffs against his face.

“Ha,” he huffs out, but it lacks all humour. “Very funny, Hyunjin-ah.”

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to get the memo. But then S-Class blasts through the shitty little speakers the staff brought and Changbin’s body automatically responds with the dance, and so does Hyunjin’s.

But he’s grateful that, as he goes through the motions, he has an excuse to stare at the stupid blue balloon between them. Though the song ends before long, Jisung and Seungmin unsurprisingly already eliminated.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, and Changbin makes the mistake of looking up. Hyunjin’s face is so close, Changbin can make out each individual eyelash framing his eyes.

The notes of Silent Cry slice through the room and Changbin momentarily forgets to be mad as he tries to remember the choreography – and promptly all thoughts leave his mind when Hyunjin swivels his hips and brushes his thigh against Changbin’s and Changbin swears he did it on purpose. When he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes, Hyunjin is already staring at him.

Their balloon nearly drops with how fast Changbin tries to put distance between them. He tries to think of something unsexy, grandmas and dogshit, you and Hyunjin making out and probably doing a lot more than just grinding on each other, but that does shockingly little. Quite the opposite.

Thankfully, the song ends, but because nobody was eliminated, staff plays the next one right after. Maniac, now, and if Changbin’s heart didn’t feel like it was about to shatter and his dick didn’t feel like it was about to chub up embarrassingly fast, he would’ve laughed at how stupid it looked, everyone trying to do a half-assed twirl with the balloon between them. Somehow, he and Hyunjin make it, though, a little twirl, then hand to forehead. Hyunjin’s intense stare catches on Changbin’s, and he winks, lets his tongue slide over his bottom lip. Changbin almost moans.

The song ends, the game is over, everyone else is slowly peeling apart, but Hyunjin isn’t going anywhere. His arms fall back over Changbin’s shoulders, he tips his head to the side and stares at Changbin, eyes dipping down to his lips so quickly, Changbin thinks he might have made it up. And then Changbin feels his fingers at the nape of his neck, scratching up his scalp, and something in Changbin’s stomach turns.

He steps back so abruptly, Hyunjin’s arms and the balloon fall to the ground. The balloon pops, making everyone jump and stare over at them, but Changbin is beyond caring.

“We’re done, right?” he asks the staff, and stares them down until they nod apprehensively. He doesn’t know how manic he looks, he needs to get the fuck out of here.

He makes it out of the main room, back into the hallway that leads to their haphazardly thrown together dressing room, but he doesn’t get far before he hears steps behind him.

“Changbin,” Hyunjin’s voice echoes through the room and Changbin stops as if rooted to the spot, for one second, before he turns around and stalks towards Hyunjin, who stares at him.

“What the fuck?!”

It’s the only thing Changbin manages to say, his mind a mess, the resentment threatening to bubble up and over.

“Why the fuck would you … what the fuck was that?!”

It’s barely more coherent, so it’s no wonder Hyunjin just stares at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Not understanding.

“Why were you … I wasn’t flirting with you?!” Changbin yells, “why were you … that’s not … why the fuck would you do this now?!”

Hyunjin shakes his head, takes another few steps toward Changbin, his arms stretched in front of him in an expression of utter disbelief.

“What?! I … I don’t get! I thought you wanted everything to go back to the way it was!? I was just trying to do what seemed to make you most comfortable!” Hyunjin yells, and Changbin shudders with frustration.

“Now you’re just being fucking cruel, Hyunjin,” he hisses, and Hyunjin’s big eyes turn narrow.

In two steps, Hyunjin is right in front of him, staring at him from where he’s towering over Changbin.

“Cruel? I’m being cruel? You’ve been flirting with me for years, off camera, on camera, and you waved it off every single time, and now I’m asking you to stop with the games and put your money where your mouth is before it’s too late, and I’m being cruel?” Before it’s too late?

Hyunjin takes a step forward, invades Changbin’s space and Changbin stumbles backwards into the wall with a thud.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not cool,” he manages to hiss out, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. His eyes are glued to Changbin’s lips.

“If you would just let me explain …,” he mumbles, and then Hyunjin is kissing him.

Kissing Hwang Hyunjin is everything Changbin ever thought it would be and so much more. He’s overwhelming, crowding him against the wall, his hand strong where it’s resting against the nape of his neck. He also smells incredible, his pomegranate chapstick smearing against Changbin’s lips in a kiss that is equal parts elegance and raw, desperate want.

Hyunjin presses Changbin into the wall harder, towering over him, and Changbin moans, his hands back on Hyunjin’s waist, trying to pull him closer, kiss him deeper, get more, and Hyunjin sighs into the kiss, links his fingers with Changbin’s and presses it over his chest and …

Reality catches up to Changbin all at once and his eyes shoot open and he pushes Hyunjin away so hard, Hyunjin nearly slams into the wall opposite.

“Don’t … What?!” he gasps out, wipes his mouth with the back of his mind, staring at Hyunjin. He’s so fucking gorgeous like this, all flushed and wide-eyed and– 

Oh fuck.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?!” Changbin yells, before he can think better of it. Hyunjin stumbles further back, but he opens his mouth. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?! That I don’t know you and Y/N are seeing each other?!”

“No, Binnie, …” Hyunjin tries to say but Changbin can’t … He can’t believe Hyunjin would do this.

Hyunjin raises his hands, eyes big and entreating, and tries to take a step towards him, but Changbin stumbles backwards. It’s no longer resentment he feels, now it’s just … anger. Disgust.

“So what, are you cheating on her?! Are you trying to prove something? What the fuck?!”

“Changbin,” Hyunjin says again, but Changbin just shakes his head. Slowly, he starts walking backwards, away from Hyunjin, because he doesn’t trust himself right now.

“She deserves better than that, Hyunjin. And I deserve better, too, than to be used like this. You can find someone else to fuck with.”

“I swear, Binnie, please …”

“Don’t get fucking near me, Hyunjin. I don’t want to see your face any more,” Changbin spits, and the venom of his words feel like daggers in his own chest.

He turns, walks down the hallway as fast as he can. This time, there are no footsteps following him.

Somehow, he manages to make it through the process of undressing, of filing into the cars, without crying.

Changbin barely looks at Hyunjin, the handful of glances nearly enough to make him break down, right there, in the middle of some random shoot location. Hyunjin looks about three seconds away from crying, but he won’t stop staring at Changbin. Changbin can feel his eyes, boring into the back of his head, like he’s taunting him. He can’t get the taste of him, the feeling of him so close, out of his goddamn head.

He gets in the car first and when the others don’t join, he watches through the tinted windows as Chan mumbles something to Hyunjin and Jisung, who nod, throw weary glances at the car, before walking over to the other car.

Chan turns and makes for the car Changbin’s in, climbs in, and closes the door behind him.

“Just us today,” he says to the driver, who nods and pulls away.

Changbin doesn’t look at Chan during the drive. For an hour, he sits next to him, his chest burning with unshed tears, his fists balled at his side, his brain running amok, white noise and pain.

Somehow they make it to the dorm.

Chan says goodbye to the driver, follows Changbin into the elevator, up to their floor, down the hall. He waits patiently until Changbin has punched in the code, until the door has fallen shut behind them, and they’ve toed off their shoes. He drops his backpack by the door, follows Changbin into his room, where Changbin drops his own, shrugs his jacket off.

When he turns around, Chan folds him into a hug and Changbin breaks down.

White noise. Static. His chest like a balled fist.

“H-he kissed m-me,” he hiccups, a string of drool dripping onto Chan’s shirt. Chan hums, rubs his hands over Changbin’s back soothingly. “H-he f-fucking k-kissed me, after a-all this f-fucking time, Channie.”

Chan’s arms tighten around him, and more sobs tear out of Changbin.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry. I love him.”

He sobs again, so hard his legs nearly give out.

Chan shushes him quietly. “I know, Binnie, I know.”

Changbin can’t even pull back, he only clings onto Chan tighter.

“H-how the fuck do y-you know,” he wails, “why are you s-so fine with th-this.”

It’s overwhelming. And it’s getting worse, the idea of Chan knowing makes Changbin wonder who else knows. Who else has been witnessing this whole train wreck knowing more than Changbin does.

His chest tightens until his sobs turn into gasps for air and Chan somehow drags him over to his bed, guides him to sit, all without ever taking his arms from where they’re protectively, soothingly wrapped around Changbin’s body.

“It’s okay, Binnie, it’s okay to love him,” he murmurs, trying to be calm, but Changbin only cries harder. He sobs, spit and tears and snot staining Chan’s shirt.

“It’s not o-okay,” Changbin somehow manages to whimper out, “b-because I l-love her, too. I love him and I love her. I love them both.” Chan’s hands freeze momentarily, before they resume their calm movements over Changbin’s shoulders and his back.

It’s like a dam has broken and Changbin can’t stop spilling his fucking guts.

“And neither of them love me,” he wails, forces the words out between sobs and hiccups. “They love each other. And they’re beautiful together, Channie, they’re so beautiful. And I thought I would be f-fine w-watching because how can I be with either of them when I love the o-other, too, b-but it’s s-so hard, hyung, it’s so f-fucking hard.”

Somewhere along the way he has started hyperventilating again, Changbin realises, because Chan is now rocking him back and forth.

“A-and n-now … he k-kissed me?! A-and sh-she kissed me the o-other … day and … we hooked up, too, Channie, right before her d-date with H-hyunjin and I don’t even know h-how that happened but afterwards it was a-awful and then I s-saw them and now Hyunjin k-kissed me?!”

Chan rocks him hard, tries to shush him, but Changbin is on a roll now.

“Like, how could he ch-cheat on her, right?! Hyunjin, of all … of all f-fucking people. And on h-her?! H-how?! How could he th-throw a chance with her away like that, when it’s a-all I’ve e-ever wanted. How f-fucking d-dare he?! And wh-why the fuck would he use m-me to do it?! There are other p-people, so many people, h-hotter people, probably lining up to kiss Hwang fucking Hyunjin. Why d-did he have to drag m-me into this?! It’s s-so c-cruel.”

“Binnie,” Chan mumbles, but Changbin shakes his head. “Binnie, don’t talk like that.”

Changbin scoffs. A wave of self-hatred washes over him, so strong it nearly blinds him.

“W-why?! Isn’t that what the problem is?! That I’m s-so f-fucking unlovable that w-who I thought were my b-best friends are just … u-using me to play some s-stupid games with each other?! Like I’m just some t-toy. B-because Changbin won’t complain.”

Chan pulls Changbin from his chest so fast Changbin can’t even cover his face, his stupid sweaty, red, face, but Chan doesn’t seem to care. He shakes him. Gently, but Chan shakes him.

“Not another word, Bin,” Chan warns, gives Changbin one of his dad looks, and it’s so intimidating that Changbin actually doesn’t dare say anything else. “I don’t know why they would do what they did, but I’m sure it wasn’t because of that.”

Changbin sniffles.

“Th-then, w-why?”

Chan sighs.

“I don’t know, but it’s not because you don’t mean anything to them. If anything, I think it might be the opposite.”

The thought of that hurts more than all the anger that came before it. Changbin starts sobbing again, and Chan pulls him back into his chest.

“It’s okay, Bin. We’ll figure it out, okay? You’ll figure it out.”

Changbin doesn’t believe him then.

But Chan stays, holds him until the worst of Changbin’s sobs have subsided, waves away his hoarse apology for crying and snotting all over his shirt. Chan brings him water and painkillers and tucks him into bed so gently it would’ve made Changbin start crying all over again, if his body hadn’t utterly exhausted itself. Chan leaves and exhaustion drags Changbin into a deep, dreamless sleep, even though it’s only 8pm.

He sleeps for 14 hours and when he stumbles out of his room the next day, Chan tells him that Hyunjin and Jeongin will be switching rooms for a while.

When Changbin asks what he told them, Chan shrugs, says he just told them Changbin and Hyunjin had a fight. Most of them knew, apparently, about you and Hyunjin dating, about Changbin and his unresolved feelings about the matter, but nobody had dared push the question. On account of “Changbin acting like a ticking time bomb”, according to Chan, which makes Changbin crumple in on himself with more self-loathing.

Nonetheless, Changbin is more grateful than he can even describe. He mumbles as much to Chan, gives Jeongin a half-mumbled thank you as well, but Chan just pats him on the back.

“Told you we’d figure it out, yeah?”

And Changbin nods; realises he should’ve talked to Chan a long, long time ago.

Chan arranges for Changbin to take a couple days off, days which Changbin spends … heartbroken. Wallowing. Crying and eating ice cream, the whole nine yards. Except it’s even worse, because he didn’t just get his heart broken by one person, but two. And along the way he also lost not one of his best friends, but both.

There’s a you-shaped hole in his soul. Every now and again, he picks up his phone, and he sees your chat pinned to the top of his KakaoTalk and the last sticker you sent, and he wishes he could message you. He wishes he could open your chat and go ‘today sucked, wyd?’ like he used to and see your little message bubble pop up immediately, always ready with some words that somehow always made him feel better, even if it was just the stupidest little joke.

And he wishes that in the mornings, he didn’t hear Jeongin’s laugh echoing through the dorm from Jisung and Hyunjin’s bathroom. He wishes Hyunjin were here and everything was normal. He wishes he could knock on Hyunjin’s door like he always did when he had a hard day. Hyunjin always knew, somehow, only had to take one look at Changbin to know. Because on those days, there was only softness, no edge to his pretend words of resistance when Changbin asked if he could come in. He would let Changbin come into the sanctuary that is Hyunjin’s room, like a parallel world, a calm refuge, always smelling slightly of the dried roses hanging from his bedpost, the paint that’s always drying on some canvas or another.

But he has nothing now. He’s in his room, alone, in the empty dorm, while everyone else goes on with their life. And he keeps wondering if somewhere along the way he went wrong.

He didn’t think he did. His love for you and Hyunjin? There was never a question of it ever stopping. And the existence of two loves, his two loves, because they were always going to be a part of him, stitched into the fabric of his heart by fate itself, meant he could never have either. Because both of you deserved more than that. It’s what he always came back to. That part he was sure of. This was always the way it was meant to play out. Right?

A few days, he has lost count in his desolation, Changbin wakes up from a nap to laughter and chatter in the kitchen. One glance at his phone tells him it’s 8pm. He must’ve slept for an hour and a half somehow, though he doesn’t remember even falling asleep.

Groggily, he peels himself out of bed, throws a look in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair before he makes his way out of his room.

Though what he sees when he rounds the corner to the kitchen, makes him freeze in his tracks.

Everyone’s here. Jeongin, Seungmin and Yongbok are unloading containers and containers of takeaway food from countless white bags, Minho and Jisung are bickering and giggling while setting the table, and Chan is talking to …

You and Hyunjin, next to each other, laughing at something Chan said, fiddling with something in a big plastic container, trying to get it out of a brown paper bag …

When your eyes meet Changbin’s, you freeze. Chan whirls around, and Hyunjin sees him last, his face immediately falling as his eyes race up and down Changbin’s sleep-mussed form with badly contained worry.

“Binnie!” Chan exclaims and everyone else turns around. Changbin wants to disappear.

“Wh-what are you all doing here?” he somehow manages to rasp out, and Chan walks up to him.

“What do you mean? It’s your birthday, Bin, do you think we would let you wallow alone on your birthday?”

Oh.

He didn’t realise … Was it really … Wait, did he forget his own birthday?!

Chan seems to see the turmoil in his eyes, because he throws an arm around Changbin’s shoulder and leads him back down the hallway, back to his room.

“Why don’t you take a quick shower, and we’ll be right here, with food on the table, when you’re done, yeah? When’s the last time you had a proper–”

“Why are they here?”

It breaks out of him, interrupts Chan mid-sentence, but Chan doesn’t let it phase him.

“It’s your birthday, they wanted to celebrate it with you. Plus, they wanted to talk to you …”

Changbin panics, opens his mouth to say something, anything, to tell Chan that he isn’t ready, that he can’t face them, especially not together, but Chan shushes him.

“I think you should hear them out. Promise me you’ll hear them out?”

Changbin stares at Chan. He doesn’t know what they could possibly say that wouldn’t end with Changbin’s heart shattered on the floor of his room all over again, but Chan looks so convinced, so optimistic, so determined, that Changbin nods.

“Okay, now off to the shower with you. I’ll tidy up in here a bit, okay? Change your sheets, let some air in.”

Changbin nods again, lets Chan steer him to his drawers to get him a change of clothes, and then into the bathroom. And when he stumbles out of the steam ten minutes later, Chan is sitting on his clean, freshly made bed, scrolling through his phone.

“There you go, much better!” Chan exclaims with one of his patented smiles, and jumps up. “Now let’s get some food before it gets cold, and they kill us because they have to wait any longer.”

Everyone’s already crowded around the big dinner table, cheers erupting when Changbin and Chan come back. Jeongin mumbles a “finally!” and Changbin has no time to think before he’s steered into one of the empty seats, Seungmin to his left, Chan sitting down to his right.

When he looks up, he meets Jisung’s eyes, who smiles brightly at him, playing with Minho’s hand in his lap.

“Happy birthday, hyung! We missed you in the studio today,” he chirps, easily, dripping with sincerity, and Changbin’s heart convulses almost painfully. He had barely thought of the group these last few days, too focused was he on his broken heart. He feels almost bad.

“None of that,” Minho chides, as if he read Changbin’s mind. Though Changbin assumes it was written all over his face anyway. Clearly, his pokerface is lacking these days. “You needed the rest.”

Jisung next to him nods, and Changbin gives them both what he hopes is a genuine smile. But it’s hard. As Chan loads up his plate, he finally dares to let his eyes stray down the table where you and Hyunjin are, sat next to each other.

To his relief, neither of you are looking at him. You’re talking to Jeongin about something, Hyunjin is busy trying to get a drink from the kitchen island without having to get up, before he gives up and does, grabbing two diet cokes, placing one in front of you automatically. The gesture is so domestic it makes Changbin feel sick with jealousy. He can’t do this. He can’t watch this. What the fuck was he thinking?!

But then Hyunjin’s eyes meet his and Hyunjin smiles. It’s small, sheepish, and impossibly soft, big eyes round, mouthing a quiet “hi” and Changbin’s chest erupts into barbed wire butterflies. He wonders how long it will take for him to get over this. He wonders if he ever will.

“Come on, Bin, eat up,” Chan exclaims, rips Changbin’s attention away from Hyunjin and to his plate, filled to the brim with all his favourite foods and when he looks up, Seungmin is smiling at him.

“Eat, hyung, we had to go to like five different places to get all of this, so you better enjoy it,” he teases, and Changbin huffs out a laugh, but digs in.

And really, he didn’t eat very well the last few days, his appetite having all but disappeared, swallowed up by the heartbreak until there was nothing left. So he lived on leftovers left by the others, off cup ramen and convenience store kimbap. And he didn’t care, but now, with all of this in front of him, he realises he’s starving.

So he eats. Lets himself be dragged into different conversations, lets Jisung whine about how fast his rap is in the song they were recording, listens to him and Seungmin discuss singing techniques, to Chan talk about this new machine his personal trainer made him use the other day.

Every now and again, he steals glances at you and Hyunjin, and he doesn’t know if you’re doing it to be kind to him, but there’s no lovey-dovey-ness between you; no whispering, no touching, no stolen glances. Changbin is grateful, but he’s also confused.

But before long, everyone’s done eating and you and Hyunjin disappear into the kitchen only to reappear side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone starts singing the most disjointed rendition of happy birthday which should be criminal considered they’re all singers, but Changbin doesn’t care. Tears prick in his eyes before the song is even over.

The cake is pink. Impeccably frosted. And it’s dwaekki-themed. Ears, little pigtail and face and all. On the bottom it says, “Happy birthday, Changbin!” and there are at least 10 candles, burning, flickering precariously with every step you take.

You and Hyunjin carry it in together, smiling at him, placing the cake in front of him on the table just when the song ends and Changbin tries his best not to cry. Before you pull away, he can feel your hand on brush against his neck, rubbing your thumb over his skin, then Hyunjin’s stronger one, squeezing his shoulder. They’re small touches, barely anything, but his whole body erupts into goosebumps.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell. Someone hands him the knife, tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and he does, wishes that one day he will be able to have his friends back.

They wanted to talk to you.

Changbin tries not to freak out about the prospect of it, but when everyone’s had cake, when Minho and Jisung and Chan are done tidying up the kitchen, and everyone slowly starts to make to leave except for you and Hyunjin, it all becomes a little too real.

“Bin?”

You say his name so sweetly, so quietly.

He turns and is met with you and Hyunjin, who’s hovering behind you, gnawing at his lips nervously.

“C-can we talk?” you ask.

Changbin doesn’t respond. He has the urge to say yes, because you clearly want to. He can see the worry and the stress in your tired eyes, wants to do anything he can to alleviate it, but … he doesn’t know if he can do this. He feels like he’s made of glass and one wrong move will shatter him all over the floor.

“Please, hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but Jisung screeching in the hallway, makes him falter. “Just, please?”

So Changbin nods. He tries to regulate his breathing as everyone files out with little waves and hugs and more “happy birthdays”, and even manages to hold it together when Chan hugs him and mumbles “you can call me if anything happens, okay?”, only when the door falls shut behind them, and he’s left alone with you, he starts panicking.

He turns around and finds you exactly where you were before, aimlessly fiddling with one of the containers of leftovers, Hyunjin leaning against the kitchen island, running his hand through his hair for the nth time, his foot tapping the floor nervously.

Changbin can’t stand it any longer.

“I … I can’t be your friend. I’m sorry. I really tried, but I-I can’t,” he forces out, “or maybe I can, one day, but not right now. It hurts too much. You hurt me a lot. I need time.”

You straighten up, a look on your face like you’ve been slapped.

Hyunjin winces, takes a step towards him.

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” he starts, and Changbin’s brows furrow, but Hyunjin just takes another step towards him, “I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have just kissed you.”

Changbin freezes, whips his head over to you, but you don’t seem surprised. Quite the opposite. Hyunjin is right in front of him now, his breath puffing against his face, just like it did a few days ago, right before …

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he says, his determined gaze racing all over Changbin’s face, “and I should’ve explained, but it was all so … I was so confused and so unsure because I couldn’t believe you’d really want me …”

“What?!”

His disbelief is genuine. Hyunjin blushes, and nods.

“Y/Nie kept telling me, but I just couldn’t believe it? I thought you were just teasing me all these years. Ironic, because the one person I wanted, didn’t want me back. Because it was always so obvious to me that you wanted her …”

Changbin’s head spins and for a second, he thinks he might pass out. You seem to be able to sense it. You mumble, Hyunjin’s name, who blinks, then takes a quick step back. Changbin feels like he can breathe again.

“Hey, why don’t we take this to your room, Bin?” you say gently, give Hyunjin a look. Hyunjin nods, steps back another few steps, and lets you take Changbin’s hand and drag him back to his room.

You lead him to his bed, make him sit down, Hyunjin immediately taking the spot next to him, just close enough, so his knee rests against the side of Changbin’s thigh when he crosses his long graceful legs underneath him. There’s more space between them now, which Changbin is grateful for, because even just that touch when it’s just the three of you here in his room, makes him a little dizzy.

You don’t sit down, instead you come to stand in front of him. Changbin blinks up at you. He feels like he’s staring straight at the sun.

“We’re sorry, Binnie,” you announce with a deep sigh, giving Changbin a look that melts his heart, “we’re sorry we didn’t talk to you sooner. Everything was so messy, and it took us ages to figure it out between ourselves and … and we didn’t know how much you were hurting, how much we were hurting you. We’re sorry.”

Hyunjin makes a soft sound of agreement next to him.

“The thing is …” you take a deep breath, ”both Hyune and I … we both went into our date with each other trying to get over you.”

Changbin’s whole world tilts on its axis.

“I kinda … I loved you for so long, and I figured you’d never want me back, I honestly always thought you were in love with Hyunjin, ever since you told me about him, but … I don’t know, it’s been like, what 7 years, and you never made a move and when Hyune and I met, there was so much chemistry and I thought maybe, just maybe, I should try, you know? And I didn’t know if it would last or anything, but I was kinda desperate because I really needed to get over you.”

You flush, fidget awkwardly where you stand.

“But then … I don’t know, I fucked up, I kissed you, and we had sex and afterwards it was so obvious how much you regretted it, and it hurt so fucking bad to see, so when Hyunjin kissed me in the museum and my heart nearly beat out of my chest, I, uh, I was so relieved. Like, maybe there was a chance, maybe I could get over you. But I couldn’t … of course not.”

Hyunjin’s hand splays over Changbin’s thigh, and Changbin shivers.

“And neither could I …” he murmurs, voice thick like honey in Changbin’s ears. “I really tried … and I was so confused that on Y/N and my second date, I just kind of … freaked out. Told her I heard you. Told her that I was sorry but also that I wasn’t, because it … it turned me on so bad.”

He breathes out the last words, and Changbin nearly chokes on his spit.

“But also that I was really jealous and that I was pretty sure I was in love with you but also liked her and … well, long story short, we realised in a, uhh, very explicit way, that we were both in the same boat, but also really liked each other … But it almost felt like … something was missing. You were missing.”

Hyunjin moves a little closer, lets his hand trace over Changbin’s arm, down to his wrist, before linking his hands in his.

“And we wanted to talk to you, but then you were so cold to me when we were filming that last SKZ code episode, and I kinda just … lost my head. I got so scared. And I followed you because I wanted to tell you all of this, but you were so angry, and it was so hot, and you kissed me back so hard it knocked any coherent thought out of me and I messed it all up. Chan told me as much, when he came to the other dorm. Yelled at me so loud in front of the others …”

Hyunjin shivers, and you take the break in his rant to sit down on Changbin’s other side.

“When Hyunjin told Chan we wanted to talk to you, he had this big, long dad talk with us, about our feelings and our intentions,” you mumble, and shiver. “He basically gave us the shovel talk, it was scary.”

Hyunjin giggles quietly.

“But the long and short of it is,” you take a deep breath, but it’s shaky. Hyunjin’s hand leaves Changbin’s only for long enough to reach over his lap and squeeze yours, before returning to lace into Changbin’s again. “We wanted to ask you … if there was any possible way you might have feelings for us. Because we do … have, like, a lot of feelings … for you.”

Changbin’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. He wants to pinch himself, to make sure he isn’t dreaming, but Hyunjin’s warm presence, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand, your leg jumping nervously, it all feels too real to be a dream.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you breathe out with an awkward chuckle, “just … you just need to tell us. We didn’t really think that far because we’re both romantics and also both kinda delusional,” you laugh again, though Changbin can hear the sadness, “That’s something we learned about each other in the last weeks. But we’ll figure something out. If you just love Hyune, it’s okay, I … I’m not mad, I promise. At least I’ll know. I just can’t pine over you any longer.”

Changbin’s head whips up so fast he nearly pulls something.

“Is that what you think?”

You shrug, avoid his eyes.

“It seemed pretty obvious,” you mumble, “with how you talked about him from day one. How much you regretted sleeping with me, how you kissed him back …”

You look so devastated, it makes Changbin’s chest ache.

He shakes his head. He reaches for you, his hand as shaky as the day you kissed him, cupping your face. His whole body is thrumming with something he can’t name.

“I … wow, is this real?!” he huffs out, with a disbelieving laugh, “Angel, I’ve been in love with you for years …”

Hyunjin hums approvingly, and Changbin’s face snaps over. Hyunjin is right there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You …” Changbin mumbles, and Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly widen, almost in fear, “Do you think I would flirt with you for so many years without meaning any of it?! Are you crazy?”

Hyunjin pouts, and Changbin wants to kiss it off him. The thought that he might have wanted him to all along, makes him feel insane.

“Well, you never shut up about her! It was always ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’ and ‘Ah, no, Changbin isn’t coming home until later, he’s at Y/N’s’. At some point, I figured the two of you were together and just didn’t tell anyone.”

Changbin blushes hard, but before he can overthink it, he decides to be brave. He frees his hand from Hyunjin’s reaches up, and pulls Hyunjin into a kiss. Hyunjin squeals into his lips, before he relaxes, presses himself closer, until half his leg is in Changbin’s lap and his hand is ghosting up his back. And then he pulls back, blinks his eyes open and looks past Changbin, and Changbin turns and meets your eyes. Your pupils are blown, and despite all of his words, there’s something so uncertain in your face.

“Come here,” Changbin whispers, and you do. Effortlessly, easily, shimmy forward until he can wrap his arm around your waist and press his lips to yours, and he wonders once more if he’s dreaming, but when Hyunjin’s lips find his neck, your fingers travel over his legs until they find Hyunjin’s …

When Changbin pulls back, he’s dizzy. Hyunjin is all but folded around him, nuzzling his face into Changbin’s neck, and you’re staring at him so intently and Changbin has a hard time figuring out what’s right and wrong.

Hyunjin shifts and Changbin feels him half hard in his pants, and he panics a little bit.

“C-can we … can we just … can we just hang out tonight? Watch something or cuddle, or I don’t know,” he asks, shakily, squeezes his eyes closed, “this is … this is a lot, I think I need a minute.”

Hyunjin pulls back, soothes his hand over Changbin’s back and you nod.

It’s only when the light is off later, the three of you tangled into each other in Changbin’s double bed, that’s just about big enough to hold you all, with you curled up against his chest and Hyunjin’s body plastered against his back, that Hyunjin dares bring it up again.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?” he whispers into the darkness, and Changbin’s heart skips a beat. You giggle and hum out a sleepy yes against his chest, and Changbin can’t even find the words. It does.

It’s scary, so, so scary and new, but it feels right in a way that only his soul can understand.

And his soul? Well, it seems that overnight, it found its way, back to where it belongs – in the spot right next to his beating, aching heart, beating and, maybe, just maybe, if last night wasn’t a dream, no longer aching for you.

And it wasn’t a dream, Changbin notes, with a relief that makes his toes curl. Because before he even opens his eyes he can feel Hyunjin’s hair tickling his nose, your soft arm thrown over his waist, your feet tangled with his, and the sun shining in through the crack in the curtains, and he feels like he’s finally come home.

You stir against his back, arch into him as you stretch, your fingers absentmindedly slipping under his shirt, brushing against the skin of his lower stomach. You nuzzle back against him, press a soft kiss to his back, and he sighs. Gently, he covers your hand and with his, gives it a squeeze that makes you hum softly.

Hyunjin wakes then, too, huffing out a breath, the little pout on his angelic face pulling into a yawn, before he detaches himself from Changbin’s side enough to roll onto his back. Changbin watches as he stretches his arms above his head, cursing Hyunjin because he clearly knows how good he looks like this, the lean muscles in his biceps bulging, his shirt riding up enough to expose his toned stomach, the little trail of dark hair leading into his pants where …

Jesus christ. Changbin had seen Hyunjin naked before, plenty of times, and distantly, he knew Hyunjin wasn’t exactly on the small side, but right here, right now, morning wood impressively hard in just his thin cotton boxers? His cock is fucking massive. The mere thought of getting his hands on him makes Changbin’s own half-hard cock twitch in interest.

And you seem to have felt it, because you chuckle deviously and the hand that was trailing over his stomach dips lower.

Hyunjin blinks his eyes open at the sound of your giggle, a pretty little smile on his face as he faces Changbin, his eyes falling down to where your fingers are tracing the waistband of Changbin’s briefs and he hums.

“Good morning,” he rasps, scoots closer, lets one of his hands trail up Changbin’s arm, up over his shoulder, until he can trace Changbin’s cheek. He’s gentle with it, his eyes constantly on Changbin, watching every single one of his reactions with a loving diligence. But below his gentleness, simmering somewhere deep in his eyes, is a hunger that Changbin has never seen before. His cock is rock hard now, your teasing fingertips keeping him teetering on the brink of insanity.

“Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind …” Hyunjin breathes out, and Changbin huffs out in disbelief. He shakes his head and that’s all Hyunjin needs before he leans in to kiss him, morning breath and all. But Changbin doesn’t care. He’s in his bed, with the sun on his face, your body pressed against him and Hyunjin kissing him. He has never been better.

Your fingers dip underneath his waistband like a question.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice a breathless thing against the nape of his neck.

Changbin nods, whines a yes into Hyunjin’s lips, and then your hand wraps around his cock and he moans. Hyunjin sighs happily, pulls back only enough to murmur a pleased little “so loud” against his lips, before he presses closer and kisses him even harder.

It’s mind-blowing how good your simple touches feel, nothing grand, only your bodies pressed together, your hand sliding up and down his cock, Hyunjin’s tongue licking against his.

When Changbin’s hips stutter, Hyunjin makes a noise into his mouth and pulls back. Changbin nearly comes just from the vision of him, eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, his sinfully plump lips bitten, chest rising and falling harshly. He looks like some kind of greek god of sex, even more so when he looks past him, over his shoulder, and then pushes Changbin until he’s all the way on his back.

When Hyunjin grabs you by the chin and pulls you in for a kiss right in front of Changbin, Changbin thinks he might actually still be dreaming because holy shit. You’re greedy, pull Hyunjin in with a hand in his hair and Hyunjin matches you effortlessly, parts his lips, lets you lick into his mouth before he returns the favour, kisses you so filthily, Changbin’s belly does a swoop and his cock twitches pathetically in your hand, that’s still pumping, albeit erratically, too distracted by Hyunjin’s assault on your mouth.

But before long, Hyunjin pulls back and turns his hungry eyes back on Changbin, keeps him pinned to the mattress with them as he shoves the covers aside and slithers down his body.

“Fuck, Hyune-aahhh.”

Changbin’s words are cut off when Hyunjin nudges his nose and open mouth against his clothed cock with a hum that travels all the way up Changbin’s spine. There’s an embarrassing wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking, and it’s only getting wetter by the minute.

"Let me make it up to you, hyungie," Hyunjin purrs.

“I’m not gonna … fuck me sideways,” he moans out when Hyunjin rips his briefs down and off his legs in one fell swoop.

“Some other time, gladly,” Hyunjin teases, and Changbin would’ve made a pathetic sound in the back of his throat if Hyunjin didn’t choose that exact moment to swallow his cock into his hot mouth.

He hollows his cheeks, hums, does a little flick with his tongue against the underside of Changbin’s cock and makes a whole show of rolling his eyes before he pulls off and grins up at Changbin.

“Your cock is so perfect, hyungie,” he teases, and Changbin tries to hide his burning, probably embarrassingly pink, face with a whine, only to awkwardly bump his nose into the side of your face. You giggle.

“What? Don’t like the dirty talk?” you hum, and Changbin gives you a mock glare, one that is horribly interrupted by his eyes rolling into the back of his head when Hyunjin sinks his cock back into his mouth.

“If I’d known … fuck, Hyunjin,” Changbin moans, his hand reaching down, tangling in Hyunjin’s hair, though feeling the bob of his head only makes him hurtle towards his orgasm faster, “if I’d known you had such a mouth on you …”

Hyunjin pulls off again, his eyes watery from the effort, and lets the head of Changbin’s cock rest against his plump bottom lip and smiles up at him. It’s an image that not even Changbin’s filthiest desires could’ve cooked up.

“Then what? You would’ve let me hit sooner?”

His tongue darts out and digs into Changbin’s slit, and Changbin curses. He’s going to come, and soon.

Your fingertips trail under his shirt, up the side of his chest, until they reach his nipple. Your touch makes electricity prickle through his veins, and then you turn his head towards you and your lips find his and Changbin loses any shred of sanity.

He comes with an arch of his back and a strangled moan that’s muffled by your lips, one hand buried in Hyunjin’s hair, the other holding on to your arm for dear life. Pleasure rushes through him so fast he thinks he might black out, his whole body shivering again and again, toes curling, until he has nothing left to give, and he collapses into the pillows, breathing heavily, one arm slung over his face.

Distantly, he feels Hyunjin pull off his cock, and he tries to slur out an apology, one Hyunjin promptly ignores.

“Did he just …” Hyunjin asks, fondness laced through every word.

“Did you just come from kissing me?” you ask with a giggle, but it’s so gentle, so fond, that the embarrassment burning Changbin’s ears can’t even harshen his post-orgasm glow.

Hyunjin giggles, then there’s shuffling. Hyunjin murmurs a quiet “come here, baby” and your warmth disappears from Changbin’s side with one more kiss to his forehead, and then the bed dips on his other. When Changbin lifts his arm and cracks one of his eyes open, he is greeted with the view of you and Hyunjin kissing again, though this time it’s different. A lot softer, more coordinated.

You’re straddling Hyunjin’s waist, one knee on each side of him, draped over his chest, one hand supporting yourself in the pillows next to Hyunjin’s head, the other cupping Hyunjin’s face like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever touched. Hyunjin’s hands on the other hand, are all over you – one smoothing under your shirt and over your belly and, if your gasp is anything to judge by, grabbing your tits, the other on the back of your legs, travelling up and under the boxer shorts you borrowed from Changbin. Changbin can’t see, but when you moan and arch into his hand, he assumes Hyunjin started playing with your pussy.

Changbin’s mouth waters just watching, but then you sit back enough to pull your shirt over your head and do the same to Hyunjin and suddenly, Changbin’s mouth is very, very dry. His cock twitches valiantly.

Skin. So much skin. Your plushness against Hyunjin’s lean, wiry muscles, his strong hands digging divots into your skin, one of them wrapped around your breast, playing with your nipples. Hyunjin is still hard, straining against his boxers, and when you grind forward, dragging your core against the base of his cock, Hyunjin moans, low and melodic and needy.

Changbin’s hard again. It must be some sort of record, but how could he not, with the two most perfect people he has ever seen, making out half naked after sucking soul of out him.

When you scramble off the bed to shuck off your (his, Changbin’s brain supplies unhelpfully) boxers and see him watching you, a smile so gorgeous yet so devious it gives him whiplash, pulls at your lips.

Hyunjin scrambles out of his boxers, too, and Changbin can’t help but stare when Hyunjin’s cock springs free and slaps heavily against his abdomen because fuck, that might be the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen in his life, long and straight, beading precum at the tip. And lord knows he has imagined having Hyunjin every which way, but the thought of him putting that inside him makes Changbin a little more than just dizzy.

Changbin gets distracted by Hyunjin reaching out, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and pulling him closer.

“Get over here,” Hyunjin rasps out, his eyes hooded, and Changbin doesn’t have to be told twice.

He leans in, captures Hyunjin’s lips in his, kisses him with everything he has because, oh god, he can just do this now. He can just kiss Hwang Hyunjin whenever he wants. And Hyunjin seems to like it, because he turns into putty underneath his hands, pliable and pretty, chasing Changbin’s touch until Changbin gives in, runs his palms over his stomach, down, wrapping his hand around his beautiful, heavy cock, and stroking him, swallowing his moans, until Changbin feels the bed dip and your leg against his again. Then he trails his hands up again, over his abs, until he can run his fingers over his pecs. When he brushes over his nipple, Hyunjin gasps, throws his head back.

“Binnie,” you murmur softly, and when he looks over, you sink down on Hyunjin’s cock, taking it all the way to the hilt with a choked moan, your fingernails digging into Hyunjin’s thighs and Changbin nearly comes on the spot. Hyunjin moans prettily, one of his hands finding your waist, eyebrows knitting together in an expression of pleasure-pain that is more gorgeous than anything Changbin has ever seen.

But when he looks over at you, you, with your hair wild, your back arched, goosebumps on your glistening skin as you throw your head back, circle your hips in a slow grind – Changbin is at a loss where to look because surely this cannot be real.

Hyunjin makes the decision for him, whines, demands his attention back by sinking his fingers into Changbin’s hair and yanking him down into his lips so hard pain zaps through Changbin’s scalp, only to be replaced by molten arousal when Hyunjin licks into his mouth like a man starved. And his moans only get louder when you start bouncing on him in earnest, getting up on your knees and letting yourself fall down on Hyunjin’s cock until your legs start shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hyunjin curses out, his hips bucking up to meet yours with every one of your bounces, and you mewl, falling forward and into Hyunjin’s chest weakly.

“C-can’t, legs h-hurt, p-please,” you whimper, voice so brittle and desperate it sends Changbin into a tailspin. He mashes his lips against yours and Hyunjin moans, plants his feet and starts fucking up into you, and the sound you make is outright obscene. Changbin’s patience snaps, and he reaches down, wraps one hand around himself. The relief of his touch makes him almost delirious.

You’re still kissing him, though it’s more teeth and spit than anything, and then you turn your head and Hyunjin catches you, cradles you against him and fucks up into you harder, until Changbin’s headboard is thudding against the wall in an erratic rhythm that Changbin knows all the neighbours can hear.

“C-close,” you mumble and Hyunjin whimpers into your mouth, turns, drags Changbin closer until his mouth is in the mix, too, and it’s filthy and messy and so entirely uncoordinated that it shouldn’t be hot, but, it is, because Changbin is swapping spit with the two loves of his life.

Somehow, he comes first, spills weakly over his fist as another desperate orgasm racks through him, renders him entirely boneless, watching as Hyunjin ruts into you until you come with a choked moan, muttering Hyunjin’s then Changbin’s name, and Hyunjin’s whole body arches when he follows you over the edge, burying himself in you to the hilt with a weak moan.

Then he collapses, and you along with him, cheek squished against his chest, fucked out and gorgeous, before you slowly let yourself slide off his chest, and into the space between them. You mewl weakly when Hyunjin’s cock slides out of you and his cum starts dripping out of you, a sight that makes stars dance in Changbin’s vision and his spent cock throb.

It’s a little gross. Sweat and cum and spit drying on skin, but neither you nor Hyunjin make any effort to move. And neither does Changbin. So the three of you just lie there, basking in the glory of it all, Hyunjin and your hands linked on his chest, Changbin wrapped around your back, drawing shapes onto Hyunjin’s abs.

“Are we … are we dating now?” you ask into the silence, sheepish, and Hyunjin cracks an eye open, before he turns on his side, presses a kiss to your nose that makes Changbin’s heart flutter.

“I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend,” he murmurs, and Changbin can see your smile mirrored in the one that takes over Hyunjin’s as he looks at you.

Then you turn around, enough to be able to stare up at Changbin.

“What about you? Wanna be my boyfriend, Binnie?”

“And mine!” Hyunjin chirps. You giggle.

“And Hyunjin’s?”

Changbin doesn’t even try to play coy. He smiles, big and uninhibited, so wide he knows his dimples are probably showing, but he doesn’t care.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he says. He means it more than he has ever meant anything in his life. His heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

“And mine?” Hyunjin asks, fluttering his lashes at Changbin with a pretty little pout on his lips.

“And yours, silly,” Changbin laughs out and Hyunjin smiles, leans up to kiss Changbin, then you, watches as Changbin kisses you with a smile on his lips, before he settles back down, cuddles back up to you. Changbin yawns.

“We should shower …” he says, half-heartedly, but you huff, pull his arm closer around you.

“Just … a few more minutes,” you mumble, and Changbin can hear the sleep already tugging at your consciousness.

“Yeah, this is nice,” Hyunjin adds, scoots closer until his forehead is resting against yours on the pillow. His eyes are already closed.

And Changbin? Well, what is he going to do. He ignores the stickiness between his legs in favour of the soft body of his love in his arms, and when sleep tugs at his consciousness, beckoned by Hyunjin’s soft snores, he lets it overtake him. They can always shower later. They have all the time in the world now.

A year later, on his birthday, they’re all out together at a Korean BBQ place, one that Jisung and Minho go to so often that they’ve become friends with the owners, and always get a private room in the back where they can truly have privacy.

You and Hyunjin disappear after the meat is all eaten, and then you walk back in, moments later, side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone sings happy birthday.

The cake has a picture of the three of you on it, because his birthday is now also partly your anniversary. You usually celebrate twice, though. Not like any of you need an excuse to be sappy and romantic on any given day. You may be the sappiest couple, or throuple, Changbin knows. He loves every second of it.

In the picture on the cake, Changbin is standing in between you two, Hyunjin’s arm slung around his shoulders, you folded into his side. You took it at Namsan Tower a couple of months ago, asked a stranger to take it in front of the famous hearts, giggling when you pulled down your masks and the stranger looked confused, like he was trying to figure out where he knew you from. It was a beautiful night. You ate ice cream and stole sticky sweet kisses in alleyways and behind trees and then went home and fucked each other’s brains out until Jisung was pounding on the wall separating his room from Hyunjin’s begging you to stop.

You place the cake down on the table in front of him as the song ends. Someone tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish. He blows them out and wishes this – you, Changbin and Hyunjin – will last forever.

Everyone cheers, you squeal, wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind. Hyunjin sits back down at his place to Changbin’s right and laces his fingers with his. He gives Changbin the biggest, fondest, smile, and leans in until he's cuddled into his side. Changbin’s heart melts.

You pepper sweet little kisses all over his cheek and over his neck.

“Happy birthday, Binnie,” you whisper, happiness evident in your voice. “I love you so much.”

skzms masterlist // ko-fi star dividers just for me by the lovely @lunarvue - thank you, my love!!

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They're Drunk|Hyungline

Warnings: Mentioning of alcohol, Complete and utter shanagigans and tomfoolery

Maknaeline

Chan|

“Hehe.” You snapped your head back, looking for the owner of the noise that just blessed your ears. When you couldn’t find the perpetrator you turned back to cutting up vegetables for the soup you were making.

“Hehe.” 

You turn around again. Surely you couldn’t have imagined that. You sighed, shaking your head. Am I going crazy?

Not even a minute passed and you heard it once more.

“Hehe.” This time when you turned you felt your foot hit something soft and squishy.

Chris just side eyed the foot that just kicked his dimpled cheeks and then trailed those same beautiful brown eyes up to you.

“Christopher Bahng get up from the floor, that's nasty!” 

“Hehehehehe.” He continuously giggled as you stared down at him, not even trying to help him get up because you were confident in your inability to do so.

Instead you set aside the knife for your vegetables and slouched down on the floor as well.

“Hehehehehe.” 

“Whats so funny?”

“Carrot.”

You deadpanned at the Aussie in front of you and it sparked another fit of uncontrollable “hehe”’’s.

“Love, what on earth is so funny about carrots?”

His lips shot out into a kissy face as he shook his head. “You don- hehhehe - undertan-heheheh-the- jo-hehehe.”

You sighed as you watched him try- but fail in explaining what he thought was so funny about the crunchy orange vegetable.

“Chris, I think tonight is the last time you should ever drink alcohol, baby.”

Your boyfriend - fiance - looked at you, his dimples showing even more as the giggles kept coming out of him.

“But I had to celebrate!” He pulled your hand from off the ground and put it close to his face. He outlined the ring he had given you. “See? This is a cause for celebration.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the man in front you look at your ring as if he was staring at his laptop screen - with complete 100% undivided attention.

“Chris, you knew I was going to say yes to marrying you, baby. Who in their right mind wouldn’t say yes?”

“Mmmm…a lot of people. Hehe.” 

You got up from the ground, this time Chris coming up with you.

“Alcohol…it…hehe…hehe…hehe…” 

At this point, anyone would have been annoyed with this amount of giggling from a drunk person. But his giggle was so heartbreakingly adorable you couldn’t help but turn around and kiss the lips it was escaping from.

His eyes widened and he cocked his head. “Why…”

“Why did I kiss you?”

“Y-hehe.” He started laughing, his giggles becoming nearly uncontrollable to the point he started coughing- then gagging - then straight up heaving onto the kitchen counter.

Onto the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner.

You let out an exasperated breath, all while keeping a smile on you face as Chris stared at you wide eyed.

“I didn’t mean to!” He whined, a small hiccup accompanying the sad gesture.

“I know you didn't, baby. You just giggled too much.” You said as you took a damp cloth and began wiping at his face - taking the opportunity to poke his dimple.

“I’m sorry…” His lip poked out in a pout.

“Don’t be. It mighttttt have been one of the reasons I fell for you so hard in the first place.

He smiled and looked out you lovingly as you continued to wipe his face.

This time you were the one to let out the giggle.

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Minho|

Minho was extremely drunk. You didn’t know how he got so carried away with his drinks. He usually was very careful with the amount of alcohol he ingested, just in case things were to potentially get out of hand and get leaked to the press. 

But even if it did get leaked- you know nothing bad would come of it. Because Minho was not an extreme drunk.

Unless he was extremely caring.

“Baby, you have to put a jacket on or else you’ll get cold.” Minho said as he stripped himself of his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. You chuckled as you took off the jacket, because you were sitting in the guys' dorms, and it was rather warm in there. 

Minho huffed and put his jacket over you again.

“Yah! Baby. You need to put my jacket on or else you’ll be cold.” He said his voice turned more stern in the slightest.

“Its hot in here though…”

“Thats just all the alc…ac..al…acl- thats because you drank too much, love.” His head was shaking as he gave a few tsk tsk sounds. “You had too much fun.”

You sure it was me who had too much fun?

When he turned away to walk to the kitchen you slipped off your cardigan so you’d be slightly less warm, and to make Minho happy by wearing his cologne stained jacket. You inhaled as you always did. His scent bringing every single thought of him to mind.

You smiled as Minho walked back into the living room on wobbly feet with Advil and water. 

“Baby take these. It will help when you’re hungover tomorrow.”

“I��m completely sober, love.” You say, laughter coating your voice. 

Minho groaned and hit his head like a frustrated toddler. “YA! Baby! You’ll be hungover tomorrow if you don’t take your medicine! Here. Here.” He said pushing the medicine into your hands. You tried handing them back but he just groaned. “You’re so stubborn when you’re drunk. I’m never letting you eat again” 

“Eat?”

“Drink I mean drink.” He said, looking up as if he was thinking. “Yeah, drink.” He poured out a few more advil but then the entire bottle fell and the medicine scattered across the floor.

“I can’t have my baby’s head hurt.” He said, shaking his own. He picked up a few medicine tablets of the ground and blew on them. Then he pat your head and shot up onto wobbly feet once more, making a beeline for the fridge to get you a snack, forgetting to hand you the medicine he intended to give you.

He came back with a tub of icecream and a spoon. “Here!” He pushed the tub into your hands, the warmth of his own contrasting with the frigid feel of the container.

As Minho placed both his hands on his knees as he knelt down in front of you, making sure you eat and take your advil, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of love for your husband..

“Minho, can you take it first?” You stuck out your lip and gave your best pleading face. “I don’t like it but if you take it first I promise I will.” You said raising your hand.

Without question he swallowed a couple of pills, downing a good bit of the water.

“Anything for my babyyyyy.” He laid his chin in your lap and opened his mouth, waiting for you to spoon feed him. 

His lips wrapped around the spoon in a small “O” but pulled back with a big smile.

“Baby.” He said poking your leg. “And baby.” He said poking your tummy.

“And baby.” You said poking his nose. 

He gave a quick nod and opened his mouth again, as you pet his hair. Except this time he pulled back with a frown.

“Baby! Why are you drinking so much! YA YOU’RE PREGNANT YOU CAN’T DRINK.” He pulled his head off of your lap and was about to scold you again, but instead rushed up to get to the bathroom but made it as far as the kitchen sink before he let out the contents of his celebratory night.

He looked up after giving a long sigh, the exhaustion for the night hitting him almost immediately.

He whimpered and went to go hug you, putting his head on your shoulder. 

“I think I’m drunk…” He whined.

“And I think I’m pregnant.”

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Changbin|

“YAH!! WHY ARE YOU LOOOKING AT MY PARTNER?!” You had to hold Binnie back as he kicked his tiny little legs trying to get to the poor guy who had only glanced in your general direction.

“CHANGBIN JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” 

The angry little gym rat turned to you and pouted. “He looked at you.”

“Be so for real Bin.”

“I am. His eyes landed on you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Changbin deadpanned at you, and the guy quickly scurried away.

“Changbin you won’t bite, but you’ll sure as hell bark.”

“I will bite.”

“Really, now?”

Changbin nodded with determination. “Watch and learn.” He waddled up to his hyung and latched his teeth onto Christopher’s shoulder.

“HOLY SHIT-” Chris pulled away quickly and Changbin smiled a you. “I told you I bite!” He said as he mimicked the nerd and finger emoji combination.

Seungmin and Minho were laughing their asses off as Chris looked at your boyfriend horrified. The at you with a look of utter betrayal.

“Y/N… how could you even suggest that.” He said his eyes wide.

“I didn’t think he’d actually bite to be honest…”

Changbin waddled back over to you and latched his arm by your side. Looking around intently.

“What are you looking for baby?”

“Enemies. If another dares to look at my preciou- hnnnghh - Y/N I’ll rip their - hnnnghgh - face off.”

You all paused in the middle of the street, allowing Changbin a few minutes of fresh air and even breathing until his nausea passed.

“He gets really feisty when drunk, huh?” Felix asked as you guys all sat on the sidewalk, Minho patting the younger’s back while he bent over closer to the ground - even though with his height he was basically at the ground. 

“Yeah haha… I knew he was possessive but I didn’t expect him to be this possessive.”

Changbin looked up to a see a woman and her child walking and he yelled out again. “ARE YOU LOOKING AT MY PRECIOUS Y/N-IE???”

The woman looked at Changbin as if he was a psycho and ushered herself and her child off quickly.

Felix began to laugh which sparked a fit of laughter from all of the people. 

“He really does want to pick a fight with every single person that walks by.” Hyunjin commented as he shot a look towards a group of young kids walking towards you guys.

They saw a drunk man bent over and like the smart kids they were crossed the street.

“He’s a handful.” You groan as you lay back on the sidewalk. Not even considering the amount of germs on it. “But he’s my handful.”

“Quite literally too. Because he is about as small as Bangchan is old,  and Hyunjin is dramatic.” Seungmin commented without so much as a smile. You couldn’t help but laugh at how serious he was.

“YAH SEUNGMINNNNNNN!! WHY ARE YOU MAKING Y- HNNHNDKFH-” Before he could finish his sentence Changbin was throwing up and you got up to go help him.

“Y/N…I don’t feel good.” 

“I know baby, I know.” You said. 

“Why do people keep looking at you? I only want to look at you.” He said as you guys all continued that last final stretch to the dorm.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m pretty?”

“No. You’re beautiful theres a difference.”

You smiled and opened your mouth to ask what exactly about you was beautiful, but Changbin ripped himself from your arms and started rushing towards a middle aged man who was stepping out of a restaurant with his wife.

“YAHHHH!”

You groaned and rushed after your little angry toddler - vowing to never let him get this drunk again.

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Hyunjin|

Hyunjin sat across from you at the sports bar you guys were at. Seungmin had dragged you all along to watch the world series with him; and since you guys were in America you thought the Kids thought it would be a fun experience to experience an American sports bar.

Hyunjin had long since drunk his fair share of alcohol.

“Its not like in Korea…” He had said before he went down the rabbit hole of different beverages.

Chan had been glancing over in concern, but relaxed a little when he noticed how well you were taking care of your boyfriend.

You popped an onion ring in your mouth and Hyunjin was staring at the basket of fried goodness in front of you.“Do you like onions? Would you like one?”

Hyunjin shook his head- yet proceeded to grab one and place it on your ring finger, then placing one on his.

“See Jagiya? We’re married now.” He mumbled, his cheeks flushed, a beautiful but slightly concerning pink.

“Baby, I think its time we get you back to the hotel.” You informed Chris that you would be taking Hyunjin back.

“Are you sure thats safe? I can send another one of the guys with you-” You shook your head. “Okay. Just call me if you need anything?” 

“Of course Christopher. And don’t worry. I grew up in this city so I know my way around.” You say giving a friendly wink and helping Hyunjin up from his chair.

The night breeze was cool, and you figured it would help Hyunjin sober up slightly.

Which you were correct about, since about ¾ of the way back to the hotel he was coherent enough to make normal conversation - albeit his response time was somewhat slow and his answers slightly slurred.

You noticed a small group of girls lock eyes with you and widen them simultaneously.

“Jinnie. I think you have some fans.” You said, a smile appearing on your face as they slowly made their way over. You helped them get over their hesitation as you waved them over.

“We won’t bite!” You giggled.

They came up to you and seemed to struck to speak.

“I-Is that…you and Hyunjin?”

You chuckled. “Yeah we were going to go public soon, but they were trying to figure out how to break the news that Hyunjin was dating a staff member…but I assume a lot of you have peeped something out. Especially since we’ve been together over a year now. The only reason why we’ve decided to disclose at all is because you guys are so intuitive. Stay should the new FBI.” You joked. The girls immediately eased up and Hyunjin bowed to them, giving a slightly sloppy smile. 

“Can we get a picture?” One of the girls asked, you looked at Hyunjin but the girl corrected herself. “We meant like..with… both of you? You guys are adorable together!” You felt your heart almost burst at your first supporting fans of you and Jinnie’s relationship.

“Baby are you good to take a picture?”

He nodded- in a seeming state of almost complete soberness and posed happily for a few pictures with you and the stays.

“Are we allowed to post this?” One of them asked meekly.

“I would wait until JYP releases an official announcement of our relationship. But after that of course.” You dig in your purse and pull out a few photocards. “Here…I think Chris and…Seungmin signed these ones. And this one is… Binnie!” You said handing them the cards. “Baby…can you sign the cards too?”

Hyunjin nodded and signed the cards, and you heard one of the girls gasp in surprise.

Hyunjin still had the onion ring on his finger.

“Jinnie! Why the fuck-frick do you still have the onion ring on your finger?!” You asked in complete shock, correcting yourself in front of the girls.

“Because we’re married? Duh.” He said in complete seriousness. He bowed to the girls politely and then came up with force. “Remember when you post to caption Y/N as my wife. I’ll even let you take a picture with the rings too.” He nudged your shoulder, provoking you to stick out your hand as well, and the girls looking at each other with slight giggles as they all snapped pictures of your and Hyunjin’s hands.

Once they were finished they waved goodbye they scurried off in the opposite direction.

You let out a big guffaw. “I really hope you remember this Jinnie.”

~~~~

“Y/N? Why is there a picture of my hand with an onion ring going viral on social media?”

`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209

[jhdyuiee]

unconditional

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ pairing: ex-bf!jaehyun x fem!reader

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ warnings/tags: smut!, angst (first day back & i’m breaking yall’s hearts, sorry!!!), unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, cum eating, marking/biting, smacking, tit/breast play, making out/kissing, fingering, name calling (good girl) and pet names (love), jaehyun is jealous type, rough jaehyun, cliffhanger/mysterious ending (also sad)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ w.c: 2.7k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ a.n: hi, jiji is back! hm, it’s been a while. in all honesty, this abrupt break i decided to take worked out in the end bcs school has been a big pain in the ass as of late & so writing has gotten hard. i also would like to apologize once more for honestly everything. however i am back now and yes, yes i know jaehyun leaves tomorrow… sigh, let’s just say that for now bcs if not i’ll start tearing up, lol. don’t forget to stay safe guys, i love you very dearly & thank you for waiting, i will be back with so much more! 🤍

the rain came pouring down hard and unexpectedly. you were not prepared for this at all, so you took shelter inside a cafe. you settled on waiting until the rain calmed down so you could go home.

staring at the gloomy weather made you rather gloomy as well. you never had fond memories of the rain, no dancing in the rain with your lover. instead, it was almost as if the rain brought your life some type of bad luck.

“y/n?” a male voice calls for you, causing you to turn.

your eyes widened, lips slightly parting at the person who stood in front of you.

“jaehyun?” you say lowly, low enough for the two of you to hear.

his face too changes, it’s almost like he’s trying to process it really was you who was in front of him. you took him in, noting how he hasn’t changed in the 5 years since you’d parted. in fact you’d say he got even more… hotter?

“it really is you,” he says breathlessly, to which you nod. “i-is the seat taken?” he asks as he points to the seat in front of you.

“n-no” you respond. he sits down, looking right at you.

“how have you been?” he starts off by asking.

“well… i-i suppose i’ve been fine. how about you?”

he thinks for a second before responding. “i could be better,” he says, chuckling. your heart nearly melting at the sight of his dimples, the very ones you used to adored.

he asks you more questions about how the past 5 years had gone, you too gaining insight on his past 5 years. there was never any mention if you or him were in a relationship during the past 5 years, it was almost like a forbidden topic.

you mindlessly turn to the window, noting how the rain had finally stopped but the clouds were still there. you didn’t know whether to leave mid-conversation or stay a while longer. it had been 5 years, 5 excruciating years without him… to leave him now was-

“are you going to leave?” his questions bring you back to him.

your mouth opens, then closes, and opens again but he interrupts. “don’t leave… not yet. instead, please stay with me for today y/n,” he asks.

you didn’t even hesitate, already settling on your answer before he even finished asking you. you two leave the cafe, you follow him walking alongside him under his umbrella. your head filled with the endless possibilities of how today could go and where the night would lead you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“y/n,” jaehyun whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

your hot breath tickled his ear as your eyes interlocked with his lustful eyes. you wanted him, he wanted you. it had been so long since you’ve felt not only his touch, but a touch at all.

“can i?” he whispers as his eyes are on your lips. you nod, inviting him in.

his lips crash onto yours, melting together as they once used to. he started off gentle, almost as if he were testing the waters before involving the kiss into something more rough and filled with desire. it brought you back to the days of 5 years ago.

his hands traveled to the back of your head, tugging on your hair. his tongue fighting its way inside you until it began crashing with yours. you started feeling weak, legs almost giving out but he held you. he pressed you against the wall, body nearly melting into yours. you could feel his hardened member as it pressed against you.

you moaned into the kiss, trying to say his name. he tugged on your bottom lip, finally departing from your lips. your eyes watery, face feeling hot all over. your dazed gaze finding jaehyun’s lustful one. jaehyun groans before sinking onto his knees. you knew where this was going, so you helped him.

you began taking off your shirt, bra, and unbuttoning your jeans, taking them off. just as you were about to take off your panties, his hands stopped you. “just open your legs for me,” he says, to which you obliged.

jaehyun gives you one last look before disappearing in between your legs. you felt his lips nip and kiss on your inner thighs, making sure to mark you up. his wet tongue licks your already soaked panties, moaning when he gets a small taste of you. a taste he has been dying to have for 5 years.

sliding your panties to the side he licks your cunt up once, getting a full taste of you now. jaehyun almost swears he’s addicted to you again. “how i’ve missed this taste,” he moans, meeting your eyes again before diving back inside you.

his tongue swipes up your slit one more time before using his two thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart. he lets his tongue intrude inside your entrance, sliding against your gummy walls. you moaned rather loudly at the intrusion, tightening around his tongue. jaehyun could feel as your walls throbbed around his tongue, his cock hardening at the thought of how your cunt would feel wrapped nicely around him. jaehyun cursed himself, finding himself too impatient.

you began chanting his name, crying it out with every fucking of his tongue. he found your voice so sweet, so beautiful like a song he could hear on repeat and never get tired of. your fingers grabbed onto his soft locks of hair, grinding yourself on his face. your clit rubbing against his nose, you felt yourself reaching your end already. jaehyun knew you far too well too, knowing you were reaching your end as well. so he grips onto your thighs, fucking his tongue quicker and when he feels your walls clench around him he pulls his tongue out.

you were left on edge, whining at the loss of sensation of not being able to cum. jaehyun didn’t look up, busying himself with kitty licking your cunt. he kissed your sensitive clit, once, twice, three times. so lost you failed to notice his two digits that already worked their way along your slit.

“j-jaehyun?” you asked hazily, looking down at the male as he already stared straight at you. “wha- oh my god!” you moaned out the last part when you felt his two digits plunge inside your soaking cunt. the squelching sound echoing in the doorway, you didn’t even worry about if your neighbors heard. you were far too focused on the way his fingers fucked inside you over and over so quickly. already sensitive from his tongue, you were close to cumming again.

“i-i’m gonna c-cum!” you breathlessly groaned, biting down on your lips so as to not shout again. jaehyun had no intention of leaving you on edge again, so he fucked his fingers into you faster and deeper. he attached his lips onto your clit, toying with it. he remembered how much you loved it when he would teasingly dote on your clit. jaehyun knew your body as if it were his first language.

you let out a gasp before you finally came all over his hand and face. you hadn’t cum like that in a while, your fingers only being able to pleasure you so much. jaehyun licked you up one more time before kissing your clit. he got up, holding your body up before you could fall onto the ground. your legs were giving up already.

he shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. “you did so good, love. was always such a good girl for me,” he whispers. his way of words, too, always turned you on.

when you finally licked him clean, he removed his hand from your mouth. in a split second his demeanor changes, his eyes turning more gentle. “as much as i wanna be inside you, i don’t have a condom. so-” you interrupt him. “i-it’s alright jae, please just… i wanna feel you.”

your words too turned him on, in a matter of seconds his pants and boxers were off. his aching cock standing proud. “jump,” he tells you.

you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist. your back still against the wall. his cock rubbed along your soaking slit before his leaking tip plunged into your entrance. 

“fuck- you’re so tight, no one fucked this pretty pussy while i was gone?” he groans. you didn’t respond, already drunk stupidly on his cock that was snugly wrapped around your gummy walls. it had been too long since you’d taken anything like his.

your eyes widened when you felt a smack against your ass cheek. “i asked you a question, or are you too drunk already to answer,” he says in a rough tone.

“uh, ye-yes b-but they don’t c-compare to y-you!” you moaned loudly when you felt him thrust into you rougher, deeper.

jaehyun was always the jealous type when it came to you, you were his and his alone is what he thought. in his world, no one was allowed to have you, it was the one thing he regretted when you two broke up. he couldn’t fathom the fact that some filthy bastard would be able to lay his hands on you, someone as tasteful as you.

“no one could leave you satisfied, right love?” he asks you, to which you just repeatedly say no. his mouth forms into a smile before his lips find themselves on your shoulder. his lips kiss along them, traveling to your neck, and jaw before coming down to your tits.

he pecks one of your tits before wrapping his mouth around your nipple. he accidently bites on your nipple when he feels you clench around his cock. jaehyun mutters a small curse as he kisses his way to your other breast. it receives the same attention as the previous one, only that this time he doesn’t accidentally bite your nipple.

“such perfect tits… were always my favorite,” jaehyun mutters, kissing your tit before parting from it. “now then, are you ready?” he asks you.

“y-yes please fuck me, be rough like you used to,” you said desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

jaehyun’s hands grip onto the bottom of your ass where he lifts you up slightly before plunging you back down on his cock, chucking at your choked out moan. you truly were the cutest, he loved you so very much.

he slides his cock in and out, out and in, of you. he groaned against your exposed neck as you repeatedly clenched around him. you couldn’t help it, jaehyun fucked you so deeper, cock reaching your womb with every thrust. it wouldn’t be long before you’d cum again.

crushing you to the wall, he secures you against it so he could maneuver one of his hands to your clit. he used his thumb to rub the poor thing, “cum, cum on my cock like the good old days love.”

and so you do, erupting around his cock that still fucked into you. you knew he wouldn’t stop until he came, so you waited, encouraging him with filthy words to get him worked up. it was doing the trick, you felt him twitch inside you.

“whe-where do you w-want me to cum?” he asks you, thrusting into you quickly, nearly at his release.

“in mmh-me!” you moaned, clenching around him. “a-are you sure?” he questions you.

“y-yes, i’ll buy a pill tomorrow– please, just please i wanna feel your warmth inside me~”

“fuck,” jaehyun curses, filling you up with his seeds. his lips crashing onto yours as you milked him of his cum.

he parts from the steamy kiss you two just shared to carry you to your bedroom. he still remember the layout of your apartment. jaehyun drops you on your bed, and you watch as he takes off his shirt, sneakily glancing at his still hardened member. your mouth is nearly drooling all the more.

“turn around, on your hands and knees love,” jaehyun says, watching as you obliged to his every word. he watched as you arched your back, ass sticking out nicely, leaking with his cum. he couldn’t resist smacking your ass, left and right roughly. you moaned against your bed comforter, clenching it tightly as you got smacked from behind. you feel his warm cum dripping down your thigh, you try clenching your entrance– jaehyun taking notice.

“how cute, trying to make sure it doesn’t slip out?” he teasingly says before jerking his cock, bringing it to your slit. he rubs against your juices and his cum before stretching your gummy walls once more. it was incomprehensible how tight you always were, just right for him– just made for him.

“how is it love? you always loved it when i took you from behind, didn’t you?” he continues to tease you. “i love it! i love your cock so much j-jae, so good~”

he gripped your hips tighter, tight enough to leave prints the next day. you felt as his tip touched your g-spot so clearly, reaching your womb with every thrust in. jaehyun watches as you begin to wiggle underneath, shaking your ass against him. he smirks, smacking your ass which jiggled from his touch.

a white ring formed around his cock, a mixture of you both. it oddly enough ignited him, fucking into you in rapid, deeper strokes. your tears and drool adorning the comforter. your tight walls hugging his cock tightly, and with one smack to your ass you came for a third time. you gushed all over his pelvis.

“good girl,” jaehyun mutters, continuing his ministrations before he too came once again. only this time he didn’t part from your pussy, fucking you in slow, gentle thrust.

by the time he finished, he laid on your bed. jaehyun was exhausted, and you were too but… you still had something up your sleeve. crawling to him you stopped on his side. “wh-what are you doin-” jaehyun gets interrupted mid-sentence when he feels your lips kiss his tip. he didn’t stop you, in fact he wanted you to continue.

you spit on his cock, jerking it as to spread your saliva along his shaft. your eyes traveling back to jaehyun who hungrily looked at you. going back to his cock you lower your head, opening your mouth so you could finally take him inside. you shoved his cock inside until the tip reached your throat, you gagged and groaned against his cock when you felt him twitch inside. staying like that for a while longer, trying to get accommodated. once you did, you started bobbing your head on his cock, using your tongue to lick along his shaft. never forgetting to tease his slit, something he loved.

you felt as one of his hands tugged on your hair, helping you to better move yourself on his cock. jaehyun was a mess, he felt blessed– praised the lords above. he tried thinking of the nastiest atrocities known to mankind as to not bust so quickly, but that proved to be an impossible task. i mean, how could he when you so beautifully wrapped your sweet mouth around his cock.

and so it wasn’t long before he came inside your mouth, your mouth feeling his warmth before swallowing it down. you now felt so full, unable to take anymore. jaehyun too, you milked him dry, taking all of him in you.

you crawled to him, laying beside him. he engulfs you into his embrace, kissing you so tenderly. you two were exhausted but for what it was worth, it wasn’t regretful. his hand strokes your back, playing with your hair. it was peaceful, so peaceful that you secretly wished for your days to be like this. you were almost lulled to sleep by jaehyun before you opened your eyes when he whispered into the quiet room.

“we’re unconditionally timeless, and so is our love.”

far too exhausted to reply back, you just smile. you snuggled into his body, melting into him before you drifted off to dreamland. however, it wasn’t until you woke up the next day and felt the cold that you knew. 

jaehyun was gone, gone from your life once more. the intimate night you two shared last night, his parting gift.

there was no getting back together, no peaceful nights where the two of you lay in each other’s embrace. you cried and cried that entire morning, and silently prayed for a day where you two could reunite again. for fate to align you two again because after all…

jeong jaehyun was your first love and last love.

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 03

final a.n: AHHHHH, jae leaves tomorrow. i don’t know what to do guys, like my man is leaving for the next 2 years. like what do you mean my man who has served needs to serve more?! consider this story as my last jaehyun fic while he is still a free man, lol, and no this doesn’t mean i’ll stop writing abt him. instead, think of this as a new beginning (?) okay i think that’s enough… i’ma go now! i hope you all enjoyed this read (wrote it in one day, very proud of my dedication after all the chaos school has brought me) and i’ll be sure to upload lots this month! stay safe, may we jaehyun fans make it until may 2026!

p.s: the cover picture makes me go feral, i just had to include it!

[verstappen-cult]

CHASING HEARTS | MV1 & CL16

summary: you’ve been friends with max and charles for quite a while now, but as much as you’ve tried you just can’t keep denying your true feelings anymore. so, what happens when they came knocking on your door demanding an explanation?

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader x charles leclerc. content warnings: hurt/comfort, poly relationship.

“she said she was busy studying,” charles says as he gets out of max’s car parked right in front of your building. “i don’t think we should be here.”

max gives him an exasperated look. “and you really believe that?” when charles shrugs, max can’t help but roll his eyes. “she’s been ignoring us and giving poor excuses to not hang out with us for weeks, don’t you think it’s a little strange?”

charles, in fact, finds it strange. at first he thought nothing of it, but then max came to him ranting about how he saw you hanging out with oscar and lando, laughing about something the younger boy had said, but when he got closer, that beautiful and melodic laugh died in your throat, and you didn't look at him once.

charles just looked at max and waited patiently until the boy stopped his ranting. what came next was a conversation that was bound to happen. but when they tried to approach you they were met with a cold text saying you were too busy, while you tried very hard not to cross paths with them around university.

they just can't take it anymore. ambushing you at your own house it's probably a bad idea, but hey, they need answers.

the elevator ride to your apartment can't be fast enough, max thinks that if he has to spend another minute without knowing what happens he will most definitely go crazy.

the blonde-haired boy slams his fist against your door, anxiety and anger building inside of him. charles has to put his hand on his shoulder to try and ground him.

you open the door wrapped in a very cosy blanket, surprised to find them there. "hi?" you say, at a loss for words. you've missed them, you'd be lying if you say that having them in front of you, even if max looks angry and charles a little sad, it's not what you've been dreaming about.

"hi, sweetheart." charles gives you his signature smile, with dimples on display and everything. "can we come inside?" he asks, but max is already pushing the door open and making his way into your home.

"i can't to his anymore," it's the first thing max says, hands on hips and a frustrated expression on his face. "what is happening? i need an answer now. we need answers. you've kept us in the dark long enough."

charles knows max is hurting and trying very hard not to take it out on you, even if you're the who caused this, so, he takes a step forward.

"we've missed you, right?" the monégasque raises his eyebrows, throwing daggers at him. max sighs, shoulders dropping slightly. "we just need to know why are you ignoring us. and if after that you don't want to see us again, then... we will not force you."

that's exactly what you don't want to do and why you distanced yourself in the first place. you promise yourself you were not going to tell them the reason.

you close the door while wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders, as if that is going to magically make you disappear.

"i—um, it's not..." you avoid making eye contact, fearing that if you do your walls will crumb and you'll let your true feelings rise to the surface. you're in great danger already.

max makes a noncommittal grunt and mutters something under his breath.

you sigh, putting on a brave face. "i just been busy. finals are around the corner and i've been distracted," you raise your eyes to, finally, look at them and charles heart skips a beat, even if he catches your gaze for just a second.

"bullshit," max hisses through his teeth, seeing right through you. why did you thought you'd succeed in lying to them? "did we do something to upset you?"

"no! no, you didn't to anything wrong." you rub your hands over your face, exasperated.

"then why are you doing this?" charles really doesn't understand because you aren't making any sense. "we thought everything was fine.”

max inhales softly, counting to ten in his head. "i even asked lando if he knew something and he said it was not his secret to tell, so, we know something is happening."

"i can't be your friend anymore!" you feel tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"what?" both say at the same time, but you don't have the heart to look at their faces.

max runs his hands through his hair, it's a little too long again and you'd volunteer to cut it if it weren't for what's happening right now.

charles paces around the living room, alternating between looking at you and then at his feet.

"it's not that big of a deal," you shrug, walking past them into the kitchen to make some tea just to have something to do. "it's not like i'm an important part of your life."

they follow you into the kitchen because of course they can't leave it at that.

"what are you talking about?" charles sounds broken, he can't believe you'd think so little of you. and what you actually mean to him and max. "if you really think we can forget about you that easily, then you don't know me. or max." he says, tugging at max's wrist.

"you're very, very important to us. we care about you, we've been so worried—"

"i just can't, okay!?" you turn around, forgetting all about the tea. "i can't get in the way. i won't."

"in the way of what?" max sounds so confused, and when you look at charles, his expression is the same one as the boy standing next to him.

"i know you're together." you whisper, glancing fearfully between them.

"well, obviously." charles chuckles, amusement tilting his voice, but his expression still shows how confused he is. "i mean, we're not exactly subtle about it. and we spend a lot of time together, so, you would've noticed, eventually."

"that's exactly the problem!" you throw your hands in the hair, finally giving up. you can't do it anymore. "i like you." your eyes widen in fear once you hear yourself saying the words you swore to yourself you would not to say out loud.

max looks at charles, but charles keeps looking at you like you've grown a third head or something. and when neither of them says anything, you know you've fucked everything up.

"i like you, too." charles finally says, letting go of max wrist to get closer to you, but he doesn't get too far because you are moving out of the way, away from him as much as you can.

"you don't understand," you look at them with cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i like you. both of you. and not like friends should like other friends, okay? so i can't be friends with you."

max laughs, like actually laughs, throwing his head backwards and all. it makes you feel stupid and tiny in that big, stupid kitchen.

you should not have said it. you should have made something up, you should have acted like a grown ass adult and shove those feelings deep inside of you, forgetting all about wanting to be held by them, and kissed, and comforted.

stupid girl with stupid feelings—

"hey," max says, in a voice too small to be his own. "can i come a little closer?" your shoulders tighten, you really want to say no but you are nodding before your mind can catch up with it.

max walks slowly, being followed closely by charles. they don't want to scare you and have you walking away from them again.

"sometimes," max says carefully as you bite your lip trying to regulate your breathing. "these things happen. we're not actually seeking them but, as most things in life, things happen... i know how that feels, schatje." charles lifts his right hand so, so slowly, until is resting on your hip, fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly.

"i'm so sorry, max —"

"don't apologize. you don't need to apologize for having feelings." he says and you bite your lower lip harder, tasting blood. you don't deserve his gentleness, you don't deserve charles’ caring touch, you don't deserve anything. "you didn't do anything wrong, okay?”

you open your mouth to say something, but close it again quickly when charles shakes his head.

"you still don't get it, do you?" the brown-haired boy asks, and coos at you when you tilt your head to the side. "max, she doesn't get it."

they share a knowing look, smiling playfully when his eyes are back on you again. you feel lightheaded, aware that something is happening right in front of your eyes but not understanding a single thing.

"we planned on having this conversation a little bit different," charles beings to say as max's hand finds comfort on your lower back. "max would cook something for us and we would eat, then watch and movie and, at the end of the night, we would have this conversation."

max hums, nodding along. "but you ghosted us and fucked all of our plans." the monégasque slaps his chest playfully with his free hand while you feel like you're gonna be sick.

"wha—what are you talking about?" your heart is about to be spilled out onto the floor.

"we like you, too." charles confirms, his voice rumbling through your ears.

"we didn't noticed what was happening at first," max has a small, shy smile on his face as he remembers the exact moment he had the conversation with charles, where both of them ended up crying while trying to understand what it all meant to them. "it was thanks to you ignoring us that we realized our true feelings."

"at least something good happened because of it." charles' voice is small like a child's and, for the first time in forever, you cup his cheek, his skin feeling soft and so warm. you do the same with max, getting goosebumps all over your body.

"you're not playing with me?" you need to be sure before getting your hopes up.

max's grips tightens on you. "we aren't that cruel, baby."

you want to cry. and scream, and laugh, and cry some more.

you look at each other for what feel like ages, you've missed each other so much that now that you are finally reunited, you don't want to be apart anymore.

then, the three of you start giggling like children.

"can i kiss you?" charles shyly ask, earning a snort from max beside him.

your tiny nod it's all he needs to lean in and brush his lips against yours. it's a timid kiss, tasting each other slowly. it's delicate and gentle, you feel like floating up in the air which leaves you feeling dizzy when he eventually pulls away.

max doesn't asks, he just leans and waits for you to make the first move. which you definitely do. there are butterflies in you belly and you feel so nervous that you bump your nose with his, making them both laugh. max grins into the kiss and lets you take all the control, following your lead.

their kisses leave you feeling warm all over and with a buzzing in your ears that even after an hour of making out still won’t go away.

it's stupid and it's not gonna be easy. there are so many preconceptions about poly relationships that you know people will talk. but for now you don't care about anything but the two boys glued to your sides as you cuddle together on the couch.

[spellboundstarlet]

ALL FOR HER — CAITLIN CLARK X READER.

warnings: strap on , cait making reader touch herself as she watches , fingering , kind of mean caitlin (my fav) , caitlin eating r! out , praise , petnames (ma, mama, baby, good girl, and more) , teasing , this is better viewed in dark mode.

word count: 1,047 words.

it'd been a bad game for fever. your girlfriend felt as if she'd made them lose, even if you'd reassured her it was not her fault. "you don't get it! it was game point. i missed my shot". when the two of you got home, you thought you would be in for it. it had become a normal thing for caitlin to let her post-game anger out on you. normally by now, your face would be shoved into a pillow as the brunette plowed into you from behind so hard you thought she'd split you in half. but tonight was different.

the second you entered your shared bedroom, the girl had that look in her eyes, the same one she usually got before she fucked you dumb. caitlin smirked at you, her dimples showing, as she pulled down your shorts and panties. her fingers found your inner thigh, teasing closer and closer to your exposed cunt. she shakes her head at you, "so wet already, hm?" she asks. "you gonna take that shirt off f'me too, baby?"

you removed you shirt immediately after the question left her lips, leaving you in your laciest bra, all for caitlin. she loved you like this.. so obedient, so eager to please. the brown eye girl tutted at you, "hmmm, you want me to help you out.. yeah?" she asks, and you nod. the combination of the cold air hitting your skin, and her warm hands running up and down your thighs had you begging her to do something. "well that's to bad, mama.. i'm gonna watch you get off, got it?" wanting to remain "good" for her, you tried to not show your disapproval, but the sad pout on your face showed it all. "show me you deserve it and i can help you".

caitlin sat back on your desk chair, while you sat on the edge of the bed facing her. your fingers rubbed soft circles on your clit, soft whimpers leaving your mouth. gaining confidence, you slipped one finger in. caitlin's eyes met yours as you pumped your middle finger in and out of yourself, all for her. your fingers were nowhere near as long as your girlfriends, meaning they didn't reach the right spots.. and caitlin knew it.

needing more, and knowing you weren't allowed to touch your girlfriend, you added another finger and circled your clit with your other hand. the knot in your stomach dared to snap. cait's eyes never left yours. she sat manspread, with a small smirk on her face.. irresistible. "caitlin, please.." you begged. she seemed to listen, standing up and sitting beside your nearly naked body as you plunged your fingers into yourself at a steady pace.

"think you deserve it?" she asked knowing you did, moving her hand up to cup your breast and squeeze it slightly. your orgasm was approaching quickly, her being next to you making you that much more wet. caitlin's other hand moved down to find your own. as she removed your fingers, she replaced them with two of her own.. a vast difference than what you'd felt before. she was relentless, fingerfucking you fast, the room filled with squelching sounds as her fingers hit the gummy spot inside of you.

"cait... cait!" you screamed out as the band snapped, her fingers slowing down inside of you as you released on her hand. as you panted, trying to catch your breath, she removed her fingers which elicited a sigh from you. "did s'good for me, baby.. so good." caitlin cooed at you as you snuggled impossibly close to her, coming down from your high. "think you can give me a couple more??"

the girl layed you back down, leaving you still completely exposed in front of her. caitlin wasted no time in diving between your legs, her tongue flicking and lapping at your throbbing clit. all that could be heard as she worked you with her mouth was your loud moans. you could feel her smirking against your skin, she knew just how crazy she had been driving you up until this point. her fingers slipped inside of you, curling and hitting that perfect spot. your girlfriend pushed you closer and closer to the edge until you were simply a quivering mess beneath her.

just as caitlin was bringing you to your second orgasm of the night, she pulled away from her spot between your thighs with the same smirk from earlier. "not yet, baby," she whispered huskily, before climbing on top of you and kissing her neck. the feeling of the kisses on your neck made you nearly forget how close she'd just brought you to the brink of letting go. it was overwhelming.

after getting up and disappearing into the bathroom, she returned a few minutes later with her strap already in place. just the sight of your girlfriend like this had you a ready for more.

"you all ready for me, baby?" she said, making you even more wet. the brunette above you teased your hole with the head of the strap, causing you to whimper once again. this time, fully pushing in, your hands reached for her bicep and dug your nails into it. your girlfriend thrusted, her dark eyes watching as the silicone disappeared in and out of you creating the perfect bulge in your lower stomach. caitlin pressed soft kisses on your forehead, pushing the hair stuck to it away and wishing she could take a picture of how fucked out you looked in this moment.

knowing you were close, based on the sounds coming from your mouth, and your impossible grip on her arm, caitlin’s thrusts slowed down. “did so good.. so perfect baby. so pretty like this.” she whispered as she brought you closer and closer. “all for you, cait. all for you.”

soon enough, you held onto the girl tightly as your orgasm rippled through you.

after care with caitlin was perfect, she’d hold you close in the shower, then practically rock you to sleep while still praising you. “my good girl, yeah?” she’d whisper, too tired to speak, you’d only nod against her chest. within minutes you were passed out, and she wouldn’t even dare go to bed before she knew you were comfortable and asleep.

taglist: @bveckers @kmoneymartini @cosmopretty @charlottehughess @aubreygriffin @favreader23 @miaroman @alyrasturnz

just so you know!! i turn into an absolute slut when you send things into my inbox about my writing, or pretty much anything!!

[bug-slappy]

sharing my opinion here about serizawas design inconsistencies over time (spoilers for mp100 ending) i feel like in each new rendition of serizawa weve seen in official art ever since the start of S3 something feels off in a different way with every new merch release

lets start here ⬇ serizawa looks like,, himself. accurate to how hes drawn since his first anime appearance

⬇⬇⬇ and then slowly,,, things start to look off. his jawline is slowly getting slimmer, his eyes look wider (same with mobs too)

AND DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THESE. especially the one on the right my god. who is that

every new promo art that comes out just feels very careless. I think you could say so for all the characters (mobs giant eyes, reigens waist getting skinnier/pointier features. the PROMO art of dimple that was literally FULLY TRACED OFF OF A TEMU PIRATE HALLOWEEN COSTUME. they all look bad here)

it just feels a little depressing how little they seem to care anymore, like theyre just trying to pump out merch without bothering to use a character reference.

i notice the changes the most with serizawa. every promo art looks like theyre playing a game of telephone. each version of him is based on the last, instead of his initial design (shown below)

at the end of S2, when reigen cuts serizawas hair, he still looks like himself. they did a great job of showing "how serizawa would look underneath his moustache and big hair". In S3 it feels like they've lost that mentality completely. like he's no longer based off of his original design, but an entirely new reference of his salary man look. some comparisons between S3 vs S2 and OVA down below

I find that the line weight in S3 is much heavier and unfocused. but what bothers me most of all is that... Serizawa looks different in nearly every scene... as if they're undecided on what he should look like. the shape of his nose and jaw, his hair all change depending on the episode entirely.

The art style change for S3 was meant to be "more accurate to the manga", but I find that it had the opposite effect. especially how serizawas and ritsus eye shapes changed. ritsus large pupils and serizawas more almond shaped eyes were more reflective of their manga designs there are plenty of inconsistences in S1 and 2, but they're clearly done with purpose to reflect on ONEs art style (my beloved). I feel like the thinner lines allow more room for detail and extreme facial expressions that truly hold a candle to ONEs insane talent for capturing emotions.

these ^^^ compared to..

erm.. this.. ⬇

just felt very underwhelming... and serizawa certainly does mellow out once he starts working at S&S, but that doesn't mean that there's less opportunity for detailed expressions !!

the yokai fight scene was beautifully made i have no qualms.. but the amount of serizawa lore and dialogue in the manga that got cut from the anime just made him look like a cardboard cut out standing behind everyone. lots of funny and interesting moments cut to make room for the moefication of serizawa katsuya..

I feel like there's a lot of important moments that were cut, (reigen "i hope i can become a partner like that" arataka, serizawa "ive had a similar experience myself" katsuya )

or sad, intense scenes that were made lighthearted (the body improvement club trying to help mob, mob and ??? dialogue being cut, reigen removing his shoes in the final arc made to be meant for better grip rather than... his passively suicidal tendencies )

i think the people at bones are very talented dont get me wrong, i just felt like S3 could have been adapted better. this keeps me up at night its like 1am :) anywhosies thank you for listening to my ted talk i love you

[l0ngschl0ngking]

Not his type

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: you are helping at Chucho’s ranch and Javier thinks you are still definitely not his type

warnings: as usually SMUT ( vaginal fingering, oral -m!receiving, male masturbation, protected p in v, biting, hair pulling), cursing, soft!Javi - cuz that’s my favorite genre of Javi -, just a smudge of angst, mentions of bullying, mentions of food, fluff  

word count: 10.5 k (I like them big I guess *wink wink*)

A/N: I planned to start my Marcus Pike fic but then this idea popped into my head and I just had to write it. This is basically just a long friends to lovers fic.

Javier Peña is not a simple man – far from it. He is bitter and hot-headed, and he feels small no matter what he does – he should have done better, he should have been smarter, quicker. He shouldn't have been such an idiot. Maybe then he wouldn’t be now standing in front of his childhood home. Maybe then...  

But no matter what Javier thinks of himself he is a good man. He is caring and always wants to do the right thing – even if the consequences of his actions make him look like a bad guy. He doesn’t care – or he does but doesn’t let it show. Doesn’t want people to know that perhaps he is not as strong as he seems. Doesn’t want them to know that he cares – sometimes too deeply. Doesn’t want them to know he might feel – it's better if he seems unapproachable and looks like if you'd touch him, he'd burn you too greatly - so much that you would want to do nothing with him ever again.

So Javier feels the weight of all of his sins drop into his stomach when he keeps standing on the porch of Chucho’s house with a suitcase that he had packed with himself from Bogotá. He wanted to leave all of his old life behind but some memories stay with things that are bound to them.

He feels like a little boy again when he came home crying because lads – older and bigger than him – were picking on him. He feels like the little boy who hid behind the skirts of his dear mama when guests came to visit. That’s why he wants to look so tough, that’s why he is so hard around the edges – he changed, Bogotá changed him so he wouldn’t have to feel that small ever again. But even that didn’t help. Deep inside he is still that little boy. He can hide behind his bravado - his stern scowl and cold gaze- but that fact will never change.

He doesn’t know how long he has been standing there until the door swings open – almost hitting him in the face – and he sees Chucho standing in the doorway. His signature cowboy hat on his head and that old red flannel shirt he bought him on Christmas ages ago seems a little tighter around his middle than he'd last seen him in it. He is older – slower, the age showing on his face. But when he smiles as he sees Javier in front of him he looks 30 years younger.  

Javier looks a lot like his pops – he has the same nose that he hated when he was younger – and pops had the same colored dark hair once that curls if it gets too long. They have the same dimple on the left side of their face if they smile too hard and like his pops, Javier could never really grow a proper beard.  

Pops hugs him as if he hadn't seen him in ages – and to be honest, that is true. Work and life always got in the way and he regrets all the time he missed with him. He also didn’t want to come home – his mother’s things were still everywhere in the house. Her pictures, the warms blankets - that Javier loved to wrap around himself on the colder nights in Laredo - scattered on the armchairs and couch. He didn’t want to see Pops sad and so he stayed behind in Bogotá drowning in work, booze and women. The Peña men had different ways of grieving. Chucho never said anything to Javi though – he didn’t blame him for not coming, didn’t yell at him for letting him be alone on holidays – and he should have. He should do all those things because maybe then Javier wouldn’t feel like such a bad son.  

When they part Chucho smiles – he didn’t smile a whole lot after Javi's mom died. “It's good to see you, Javier.” He pats him on the back – a little clumsily, Javier notices but he puts a tight smile on his face. He missed a whole lot.

“You too, pops. How have you been?” It’s a question he knows the answer to. He always answers the same – busy. After the death of his wife Pops seemed to spend most of his day outside working on a ranch. Barely coming home to eat or drink. Wanted to occupy his mind. “Seems like you started actually eating as I said.” Pops waves his hand back at him.

“You calling me fat, mijo?” Javier opens his mouth to answer but Pops beat him to it, his belly shaking a little with laughter. “Someone has been helping me out for a while now. Cooking and cleaning the house once in a while.” Javier quirks an eyebrow at this and he pushes the small suitcase as he enters – now his home, too. It didn’t change here in the slightest. Pops throws him a look above his shoulder as he looks him up and down quickly. “Seems like you have been skipping out on meals, my boy. Come, Bee is here and the lunch should be already done. She made Pozole de Pollo o Guajolote. Your mother's recipe.” Javi stands straighter at the nickname. Surely he didn’t mean...

The delicious smell coming from the kitchen makes his stomach rumble and he doesn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He abandons the suitcase in the hallway after he takes off his boots and jacket that he puts on the old wooden hanger for coats he made with Pops when he was around 12 –its asymmetrical and weird-looking seeming like it was made by a child – which it was but it’s a memory Javier is very fond of.  

The floors creak under Javier's quick footsteps and he stops in the doorway as he watches you fuss around his dad. His entire body softens, the crease in his forehead disappearing as he sees you in the Peña kitchen. The past coming into the present. Prepping the silverware on the table that lays in the middle of the smaller kitchen. He sees that Pops kept everything in place like it was even before the death of Javi's mother. He missed this place. Even though bittersweet memories crawl out on the surface of his mind and his heart aches like it hadn’t in a really long time.

“Seems like you are a busy bee, Bee.” Javier smirks when you look up at him. You didn’t really change after the last time he had seen you. Sure, you aged – as has he – but you still kept your spark from all those years ago. You smile fondly – and a little unsure – at him as you quickly wipe your hands on the apron wrapped around your middle. And Javier notices - of course, he does. The hesitation in your step when you walk to him. The little twitch of your lips you make when you are nervous.

He is an observant man. He watches and analyzes. And he is good at it too - you squirm under his intense gaze. As if he could see every little part of your soul, even the deepest secrets you kept hidden somewhere back down inside of you. That’s why he is such a good agent. Was, at least. His dark eyes shift to your cleavage just for a second. You don’t notice - his eyes quickly scanning you up and down.

He looks good. Even better than the last time you saw him. The mustache he grew suits him. His hair is longer than he had when he went to high school with you. He is broader and seems even taller. He is a man now, not the little boy you played hide and seek with. He still wears the same smirk on his lips though - that kind of smirk that meant trouble when you two were younger. His jeans hug him in just all the right places and the black shirt he is wearing makes him somehow look even hotter. All man.

“You know me. Never could keep still.”

And he does. He does know you. Or at least he did - when you two were just young kids, then stupid teenagers and suddenly - strangers too. You grew up at the Peña dinner table as much as your own. Your mothers were great friends, your fathers old buddies. You had a farm right next to them which you eventually sold when your folks passed away and it was just too much work for only you alone. You bought a small house with the money you received.  

Javier still remembers when he first saw you – all toothy grin and two braids sitting on top of your head. You wore that stupid flowy dress in an ugly mustard color. You were more of the outgoing type and Javier – to everyone's surprise – was more of the lonely kid. He was smaller than his peers – smaller than you even, when you first met him. And he doesn’t remember why you started talking to him and wanted to become his friend but he didn’t complain at that time. You visited him almost every single day – looking for mischief all around. Broken glasses and bones were nothing new to both of you. The two of you were inseparable – until high school. Javier – for once in his life, thanks to you - didn’t feel so small anymore. He grew up to be a handsome and smart, confident and funny, pretty charming and self-assured young man. Girls started noticing him and he loved the attention – when their heads turned around to look.  They thought he never noticed. But alas, Javier was an observant boy even back then and he noticed – his cockiness getting on your nerves sometimes. He never wanted to feel small again.  

And like almost every girl – you developed a huge crush on him.  But it wasn’t because he was tall and cocky, no. It was simply because you knew the real Javier – your Javi. Who hated being alone and who hated going to the church every Sunday – hiding in the dusty, covered in spider webs attic. He never noticed you – like he noticed the other girls. He never gave you that loop-sided grin or the puppy heart-filled eyes. You were just great friends - even when you wished for more. And one day you weren't even that.

You should have seen it coming, really. With Javier becoming popular, he started hanging out with you less and less. When you came to Peña's household he was already out with his new friends. And you always came running to him like a pathetic little puppy who comes to his owner no matter how many times they kick him. His friends laughed at you. And later on, he started laughing with them. He got a girlfriend – Lorraine, the sweet and perfect Lorraine – before you two stopped talking. The old memory still stings when you think about it.  

It happened on one of those super warm summer nights in Laredo. You wore one of your favorite dresses. It hugged your curves and you thought you look absolutely beautiful in it – your mother said so too. You asked Javi if you could meet up at your spot – the old scrap yard just a couple minutes' walk from both of your houses. When you arrived there your stomach dropped to your feet – his friends sitting with him on your favorite car that was reserved for only you and Javi. Laughing and drinking booze, the atmosphere lose. But you didn’t feel lose – your muscles taunt and all you wanted to do was just turn on your heels and leave. Cry about this stupid little crush you had on this stupid Texas boy. But Javier spotted you before you could do so – somehow he could always spotted you even in the biggest of crowds.

“Bee! Come and join us!” He yelled, one of his hands shooting into the air as he held an unopened can of beer. And with his other hand...he was holding Lorraine. They were close to each other – her almost sitting on his lap as she placed kisses on the column of his throat. You swallowed the ball of anxiety that was building in your throat as you heard them whisper: “Why did you call her, man?” He didn’t answer as he smiled at you. Lorraine's eyes squinting at you in annoyance.

Clearing your throat you asked: “Javi, can we talk?” He just shrugged his shoulders as he hopped off from the roof of the car mumbling a quick “sure”. He wasn’t wearing a t-shirt – you noticed just then. The sun was slowly setting and his golden skin shined. The butterflies in your belly made you want to go home and squeal into your pillow. You gulped and a few of his friends whistled – noticing the once-over you gave him.

“Someone has an admirer here, Peña. Too bad she is so fat and ugly! Like a pig – oink oink!” All of them bursted into laughter and to your surprise – so did Javier. He laughed straight into your face and you fought the tears in your eyes to not spill as you finally turned on your heel – as you should have done much sooner – and left. You didn’t see the remorseful look in his eyes and the way his muscle twitched, his mind screaming at him to go after you. He never wanted to feel small ever again and his friends said you were a loser – people like him shouldn’t talk to people like you. He didn´t want to be loser again.

Lorraine pulls him by the shoulder back to her – her tongue plunging into his mouth and when they pull apart she grins, the long nails of hers scraping across his golden-tanned chest.  

“Forget about her, Javi. You don’t need her.” He nodded – unsure – but he didn’t have time to think about it too much as her tongue fought with his once more – the heavy taste of beer on her tongue filling all of his senses.

After that, you stop talking to Javier. You still came to his house - with your mama - but you didn’t greet him anymore and he was pretty sure you told your and his mother as well, as they always threw him a dirty look whenever he was in the same room as you. You didn’t look at him and you didn’t acknowledge his presence anymore. He hated that he felt so small again even though he didn’t have a reason to. He had friends and a girlfriend, and all the girls threw themselves at him. So why does his stomach pull tight anytime he is near you, why does he feel like he lost peace of himself?  

One day he decides he has had enough. Both of your mothers went outside to catch the last rays of the sun and you are alone in the kitchen – baking your famous apple pie. He sneaks behind you and cages you in. You feel his breath on your neck, the slow raise and fall of his chest. You turn around – your noses almost touching – and he sees the hot fury in your eyes. You are covered in flour and Javier thinks – just for a split second - he had never seen you look so fucking beautiful. His gaze lingers on your mouth maybe a little too long because he sees you are talking – your mouth opening and closing.

“What do you want, Javier?” You ask and he had never heard you so annoyed, so drained. You didn’t look like yourself anymore and didn’t sound like it too.  

“Us to start talking again, Bee.” Because Javier is selfish and he takes and takes. Sometimes forgetting to give something back in return. He widens his eyes when he feels the sting on one of his cheeks – his head moving to one side with the force of it. You slapped him. He looks at you – you are all wide eyes and snarling teeth.  

“Fuck you, Peña.” You quickly try to scramble away from him because you feel like crying again. No because of sadness – no. That sadness turned into raw fury after the incident at the scrap yard. Because of how idiotic and stupid he is. And because – no matter what he had done and told you – you can’t seem to shake off the crush you have on him. He grits his teeth and his hand grabs your wrist. Both of your breathing erratic.

“It's not my fault you are not my type, Bee.” He didn’t mean to say that - the words coming from his mouth sound foreign to him. Not right. But his hot temper gets the best of him and the way he said and what he said should not hurt that much. But it does. It feels like he had just stabbed you in the heart and then twisted the knife – deeper and deeper.

You yank away from his grip and you point a finger at him – your hand shaking with the hurt, anger, sadness, Everything coming at you in waves - it feels so fucking overwhelming. You want to scream at him, kick him, hurt him as much as he had hurt you. But what good would it do? None.

You exhale shakily and Javier waits for the fight but it doesn’t come. You shrink into yourself and turn to leave. You look at him above your shoulder as you whisper. “I hate you so fucking much, Javier Peña.” And you are gone.

The heavy weight of your words lingers in the air and he feels the hot tears running down the apple of his cheeks. He quickly wipes them away. His ears are ringing and he doesn’t hear your mother yelling at you about what happened. He doesn’t smell your apple pie burning in the oven. He fucked up. Because he will never get to talk to you again or feel your touch. He will never hear you laugh and he will never get to comfort you again when you cry. Because the only source of your sorrow is him – the stupid Texas boy you now despised.  

Javier comes to present and you give him a quick side hug telling him to sit down. Chucho watches both of you and he prays that you are both wise enough now to sort out this little grudge you have. But you are also both too stubborn and the dinner passes in silence. The only sound is the clinking of silverware cutting through the thick air and sometimes Chucho quips in to ask Javier about Colombia - Javier doesn’t want to talk about that, though. So he stays quiet as he chews - the food tastes exactly like his mother’s.

When Javier sneaks a quick look at you he thinks that maybe he wasn’t such an idiot. The bitterness from your last talk makes his face twist. He hates how - even after all these years - you seem to not acknowledge him even though you try to stay as polite towards him as possible. As if you just look through him and not at him. He watches as you pass his pops a salt and you grin at something he says.

And yeah, you are still definitely not his type.

Javier sees you almost every day. It drives him fucking crazy. The way you just nod at him when he passes by or is in the same room as you – which is mostly kitchen -, the way you don’t answer his questions about you. How have you been, what did you do after high school? He only knows your folks passed away shortly after he left for Colombia – Chucho told him over the phone. Your parents felt like second ones to him. He wanted to call you after Chucho told him, he really did. But he didn’t know your number – that was just an excuse, he knows that and he also knows Chucho would have given it to him if he asked. He feared that you would hang up on him, that if he heard your broken voice he would book the closest flight to come to you. After all – you were best friends a long time ago.  

Javier wants to know everything about you – but you give him nothing. You are just a big complicated riddle to him and he has no hints to figure you out. He notices you though and the things you still do. You still enjoy watching sunsets as you did when you were younger. And that you talk to plants when you water them or that you still secretly go and feed horses a few sugar cubes even though you really shouldn’t. That you still hum when you cook and squint your eyes on either him or Chucho when they enter the kitchen because you don’t like when somebody disturbs you while you are in you’re your element. You always liked to bake and cook – often sneaking into the kitchen with him late at night because he wanted cookies and you gave in and baked them. Because he asked you to and said please – Javier never said please often and that habit he kept.

So because you don’t seem happy when he wants to talk to you or occupies the same room – you actually don’t seem happy with his presence in general and that makes his heart tighten even if he doesn’t understand why – he spends most of his day tending to the ranch. Feeding the animals and fixing the old barn. Today he started fixing the old fence that didn’t even look like a fence at all anymore. He grunts as he stands up – he is getting old and his back is fucking killing him. The Texas sun makes him sweat, he smells and he feels thirsty – has felt thirsty for a while now. But he knows it's afternoon and you are probably in the house cooking. He contemplates it – he doesn’t want to see you uncomfortable around his sheer presence but fuck. He feels like he could drink a whole gallon of water. Fuck it, he thinks as his steps lead him to the Pena house. You knew he was coming back home – if you didn’t want to stick with him, you wouldn’t.  

When he is finally inside and the sun doesn’t burn his face, he takes off his yellow aviators and the thick working gloves. He is covered in sweat and dirt and as he enters the kitchen you think he never looked better. But he always does in your eyes and you hate yourself for it. You gulp and turn your back to him as you try to quickly scribble the things you need to get at the farmers market today. Your body stiffens when he walks behind you – his shirt brushes against your shoulders - and grabs one of those old funny-looking glasses you painted together when you were probably around 9. The air thickens and the atmosphere is awkward – you both want to say something but nothing comes out of your mouths. Finally, Chucho enters and he looks at Javi and then back at you.

“Go shower, mijo. You are going with Bee today.” It's an order and Javi doesn’t want to argue. His house, his rules. Quite the opposite – maybe the change of setting will finally let you loosen up and you will talk to him. He wants to say to you so much. He looks at you and you gape at Chucho as he throws you a pointed look. You swiftly shut your mouth – Javier taking the steps by two as he wants to scrub himself squeaky clean as soon as possible. He feels positively giddy – it reminds him of the times when he got his first car and drove around Laredo with you.  

When he comes down the hushed conversation between you and Chucho comes to a halt and he looks between you two before Chucho almost pushes you out of the house. You drag your feet behind you and the giddiness he felt leaves him as he sees your “enthusiasm”. He wants to go and hide in the nearest hole, lick the wounds he pretends he doesn’t have but you are already sitting in the passenger seat by the time he gets his head out of the gutter.

The ride is awkward, filled with silence and you squirm every once in a while in your seat. You glance at Javier's profile a few times – his strong jawline and his aquiline nose. You stare at his hands and how come they are so big? The veins are prominent on the back of them - leading to the thick fingers, nails trimmed neatly. His hair is longer now after a few weeks already spend at home. He looks better than when he arrived. Now he didn’t look as...tired. And as skinny – he always devours the meals you cook and you can see him filling up around the middle. His arms were much stronger and more muscular than before because of all the work he did on the ranch. Domesticity looks good on him. You watch as he grips the wheel and see his jaw tick before he sighs.

“I am sorry, Bee.” You raise your brows at him when he glances to see your reaction to his words. He never was good with them “actions speak louder than words” he always said. “I am sorry for what I said and how I treated you during high school. I was a fucking idiot and if I could take it all back-”

“You were.” It's a simple phrase, your words coming out fast and he grips the steering wheel tighter when your hand lands on his thigh. “But that’s all I ever wanted to hear, Javier. Yes, your words and actions hurt me in the past. And they still hurt me now when I think about them. But there's nothing we can do about it now. We were kids and if it didn’t happen I don’t think I would become the person I am now so I accept your apology even if it could have been a better one. You should really work on your people skills.” You shrug your shoulders as you tease him and the hand that was resting on his thigh moves into your lap once again. He wants to tell you you could have kept it there – it felt too fucking good even if it was such a simple and innocent touch. It grounded him and Javier is touch deprived.

“So, that’s it?” He asks, his tongue poking out to lick his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows while he watches the road.  

“Yes, that’s it.”

The conversation flows smoothly after that and Javier can't believe it was that easy. If he apologized much sooner he could have been talking to you for weeks now. He missed this – your talks. You talked with your hands a lot and he enjoys how expressive you are when you are telling something. He learns a lot about you. You own a little bakery here - that’s why you are so flexible and can come almost anytime to the ranch. He feels proud of you – your dream was always to open a small bakery somewhere. At least one of us could make their dream come true. 

You laugh and talk, and tell stupid jokes or occurrences that happened in your life. He missed a whole lot and so have you. Your favorite story of his is when he told about the time his neighbor – an old lady – saw him butt naked because the woman he slept with locked him out of his own apartment after he told her he wanted nothing serious. His neighbor called him over to have some fun which he politely declined. You double over laughing and Javi grins, his cheeks hurting. He missed your laugh – he didn’t feel this comfortable ever since...well ever since you stopped talking.  

The ride passes quickly and when you step out of the car you come around – grabbing Javis's hand as you mumble something about “want to show you around here, Javi, so much changed after you left” as you throw him a quick grin. He can only concentrate on your nimble fingers between his and how it feels so fucking right before you are dragging him behind you.

You are not his type he has to remind himself as he squeezes your hand tightly.

Javier comes into the house all muddy once again. It has been raining in Laredo for the past few days - the land all soaked soil and dirt. He takes of his boots before he enters. His nose drags him into the kitchen as he catches the smell of pie. Sweet and delicious - or was it just you, standing here all soft and pretty? He can't tell anymore. These past few weeks were filled with nothing but joy – almost. You played cards with him and Chucho late at night, drinking beer and listening to Chucho's stories. Sometimes you went riding with him on the ranch. Your love for horses didn’t die out and you always were natural with them. You have your favorite one too – the small chestnut-colored mare with a fiery temperament that seems to tolerate only you. Chuho wanted to sell her a long time ago but you begged him on your knees – literally – not to. His eyes softened and he agreed reluctantly – he could never say no to you. Something both Peña men had in common. 

 Anytime Javier looks at you he feels his stomach tighten with something – sometimes arousal but he blames that on the lack of sex, sometimes on something entirely else. He tries to push it deep inside him but whenever he catches your smell his head gets all dizzy and he has the need to find you and talk to you, be near you He hates it. He hates it so fucking much. He doesn’t know what you did to him. He can't seem to shake you out of his mind. He thinks of you anytime he sees the sun setting down or the last time he picked violets for you as he saw them growing a few miles away from the ranch. Because you love violets. He gave them to you with a darker shade of red covering his ears as he scratched his neck. You thanked him and kissed him on the cheek then – his heart hammering in his chest, his pulse quickening and his lower half seemed all too interested in the skin-to-skin contact. As your lips lingered on his cheek as he thought about against what other parts of him would they feel so soft.

  Javi leans against the doorframe as he watches you knead the dough – one of the pies already in the oven. You look so nice in your overalls. He could just bend you over the kitchen counter and -

 Shut the fuck up, Peña. Don’t even think about getting hard.

 You startle when you turn around and see him, your dough-covered hand flying to your chest as you yelp. “Javier Peña, don’t scare me like that!” You scowl at him, your lip pursed and he grins – his hands shooting into the air in a silent apology. 

“Didn't mean to, Bee.” The corner of his lips pulls up as you murmur “sure you didn’t" and turn back around to put more flour in the dough. He quickly washes his hands in the sink and comes behind you – he inhales your scent and closes his eyes. The hair on your neck stands up. “You smell so fucking good.” It's a quiet statement. You look at him wide-eyed and he gives you a confused look in return.

 “What did you say?” Your throat pulls tighter. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Uh-um, that if you'd show me how you knead the dough.” He closes his eyes – idiot, idiot. You breathe out a small “oh” and shake the shock off of you as you nod and come behind him as you grab his hands in yours. 

And fuck, Javier thinks his pulse went from zero to a hundred in this second. His heart feels like it will jump out of his chest any second. Your small hands on his makes him think back to a few weeks ago.

 You stayed at Peñas that night.  You always drove back home but that night it was raining a lot and it was too late anyways. You agreed as Chucho asked you if you wanted to stay – they had a smaller spare room right next to Javis. You bid them both good night and fell asleep quickly after that. You were exhausted but a scream woke you up and you swiftly stood up on your feet and scrambled into Javier's room. He sat on the bed – all sweaty, his breath quick as his head rested in his palms. He looked up at you when the old wooden floor creaked under your footsteps. He cleared his throat and tried to hide from you. You crouched in front of him and offered him a little smile. 

 “You don’t have to hide from me, Javi.” And then he was pulling you into him, breathing you in, his hands pulled around you tightly as he sobbed into your shoulder. He was exhausted of pretending everything was fine. The weight of all the things that he did in Colombia came crashing down on him. You just shushed him as he listened to your heartbeat – his head on your chest, your hand in his as you stroked the back of it. When he finally calmed down he told you everything – the things he did, the things he should have done and the things he shouldn’t have. He told you about Los Pepes and Carilo, and the nightmares that still haunted him. 

 “I am just a shell of a man I once was, Bee.” He whispered into the night and you grabbed both sides of his face as you frowned at him.  

“You are far more than that, Javi.” He wanted to kiss you right there and then but you pulled him on your chest again and he breathed you in once more. The slow rise and fall of your chest lulls him to sleep. He never slept that well in his life.  

When he woke up the other side of the bed was cold but the smell of you – like an apple pie – lingered on the other pillow and he wanted to drown in it. He stroked himself at the thought of you as he smelled the pillow. Your soft hands and the feel of your breasts against his face, the small brush of your lips against his forehead. He came embarrassingly quickly and couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for a few days after that. Neither of you talked about that night. As if it never happened.

So now he curses himself as he feels how he twitches in his pants – the soft swell of your breasts pressed up against his back. The collar of his shirt is a bit too tight as well as his pants. For fucks sake, Peña. He hasn’t slept with anyone since he came back home and it showed. You don’t seem to notice though. 

“You are pretty clumsy with your hands, Javier.” He chokes on seemingly nothing and almost pushes you onto the ground as he stumbles a few steps back. Let me show you how good with my hands I can be - 

“Gotta take a shower.” He says and he takes the steps by two - almost falling over. He closes the door of the bathroom with little more force than necessary. He scrambles with his closes almost ripping them from him and he grabs his aching cock – tugging on it firmly as a spurt of precum shoots out of the head. He steps into the shower – the spray of cold water not helping him calm down his hammering heart or the way his skin seems to be on fire. He strokes himself quickly – the strokes measured as he thinks of your pretty lips around him or that pretty pussy you sure have. He thinks of the swell of your breast on his back, your breath on the back of his neck, your hand in his, your pretty smile and kind eyes. He thinks about how you would feel around him if he pounded into you from behind or what sounds would you make when he would go down on you. How wet would you be? Are you the quiet type or would he have to put his fingers – or something else – in your mouth to shut you up?  

He grunts and his forehead bumps onto the cold tiles of the shower as he cums. He watches how the water downs his spend and he tries to wash the guilt he feels off of him too. 

You are not his type, he thinks as he tugs on his cock for the final time. 

You are going on a date. Javier watches with a frown on his face as you fumble around to finish the dinner. You are wearing a pretty dress – a light green one with a flowy skirt that exposes the whole expanse of your back. The strings on your shoulder are the only thing keeping it in place. You look absolutely incredible. He didn’t want you to go. Fuck, what if the guy was some kind of psycho? Or worse, what if he was actually a decent guy and you'd stop helping Chucho because you would be too occupied with your new little boy toy? What would Chucho do without you – yes, Chucho of course, not Javier. Javier wasn’t jealous and he definitely wasn’t praying that your date would end up in disaster...Okay, he felt jealous. Like “I will rip that guy in shreds” type of jealous.  

And Javier would be alone tonight – Chucho left in the morning to visit his “friend” - he knows he went to Mária living across from the barber's shop. He didn’t say anythimg – the lie falling out of Chucho’s lips easily. And he felt happy for him – him moving on meant he was healing. Slowly but healing. Javi wanted to do something nice for you two tonight– the store-bought cheesecake lying in the fridge. He thought that you could watch TV today – watch anything you wanted. Maybe then he would slip his hand under the hem of your dress and he would -

“Javi!” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks a few times. You even put on makeup – the red lipstick making your lips look downright edible and he licks his own lips. He could pull you in and make you forget about your silly little date. But for once in his life Javier didn’t want to be greedy when it came down to you – you seemed so excited when you told him you had a date and he planted on the best fake smile on his face he could muster. Even though he felt sick to his stomach when you told him, his fingers twitching to catch your wrist and pull you close – to tell you you should fuck that guy and stay with him tonight. “You listening?”

“Sorry, what did you say?” You groan in annoyance – already running late – and you grab him by the collar – oh, he likes this a lot. You are so fucking close he feels your breath fan across his face.

“Listen, Javi. I don’t have time for this. The Chiles Rellenos are in the oven so they won't get cold as quickly. If it gets cold just put it in the microwave.” he nods – he knows this, of course – but wants to keep you busy because maybe then your date would cancel – no, he can't.

“Okay.” He says slowly and you let go of the collar of his shirt – just now noticing you grabbed him by it. You pull away from him. “If anything-”

“I call you. You already told me. Don’t worry, dad. I'll be fine.” You grin and turn on your heel waving a quick goodbye before the doors shut behind you. Javier gulps the growing ball in his throat and curses at himself. Idiota. But you know - of course you are not his type.

Javier watches the starry sky tonight. The cheesecake forgotten in the fridge alongside your dinner – he felt so sick to his stomach he was pretty sure he'd throw up if he ate anything. The warm blanket his mother knitted lays heavy on his shoulder as he looks at the sky – millions of stars showing tonight. You'd love to see it – maybe you already are. Star-watching sounds like the kind of date you would have loved. He fiddles with the handle of his mug filled with hot cocoa in his lap and thinks. About how he got here, about his fuck ups – and the biggest fuck up he has ever done was to let you go on that stupid date, he concludes. Okay, maybe not the biggest fuck up but close enough. He straightens up when he spots a car pulling into the driveway – your car. A small grin makes its way onto his lips until he sees your sagged shoulders and the slow way you drag your heels behind you.  

“You have room for another in there?” You ask – your voice small compared to when you left. Pointing a finger at the spot next to him. He nods quickly and when you sit he immediately wraps the blanket around your shoulders – your head resting on his shoulder. It's quiet for a while as he offers you his mug and you drink from it leisurely. He knows you will tell him what happened if you want to. The silence is not awkward – it’s a comfortable one. He always feels comfortable with you. You pull away from him and put the mug on the ground – pulling your knees close to your chin.

“Can I ask you something?” You look at him from the corner of your eye, your words muffled by your knees.  

“Anything, Bee.” And he means that. You could ask him anything in the world and he would answer you no matter what question.  

“Why am I not your type? You know, cuz it seems I am no one's type.” He knows you are referring to the time when he was angry at you after you slapped him. But he didn’t mean to say it. He doesn’t know how to answer – his tongue heavy all of the sudden and fuck, why is so hard to just tell you.

Rather than answering you he twists his torso so he can look at you – really look at you. The moonlight shines on half of your face and how did he never notice how pretty your eyes were? Or your plush lips, your soft hair? He gulps as he reaches forward tentatively – his palm resting on the side of your face now. And he expects you to pull away – to tell him to fuck off. But you don’t. His throat is dry and he feels like his lungs can't seem to have enough oxygen in them because his brain seems to stop functioning too. He brushes his fingertips across your cheek and you would have never expected that Javier Peña could be so gentle with his touch. He looks at your lips – your mouth open just a tiny bit and he sees your Adam's apple bob. Do you want this as much as he does? Or is he imagining things and projecting his own fucked up desires and feelings onto you at this very moment? He doesn’t have much time to think about it before your fingers tangle into his hair at the back of his head, his breath picks up and your mouth surges forward – your lips meeting his.  

He feels like fireworks just exploded in his stomach. His skin tingles and his hands brush against the front of your dress. Your hand on his nape makes him groan into you and he brushes your collarbone with his calloused hand. He wanted this for so long and he didn’t even know about it. The other grabs you by the neck and pulls you even closer – the blanket falling off of you two when you swing your legs on either side of his narrow hips. He presses his lips against yours with more force and he is confident and greedy with it. He curls his hand around your waist and his fingertips dig into your hip while the other hand presses into your shoulder blades. He can feel the blood rushing through his veins and he is warm and fuzzy all over – his body humming with something he never felt before.

You were never kissed this way before – Javier takes, and takes but gives back even more in return. The kiss is impatient and hungry – like he waited for this all of his life. His hands on your skin make you hum out in pleasure and you trail your hand to his jaw – you can feel the stumble he has under your fingertips. You open your mouth to him and the hand on your hip squeezes you tighter, and he wants you closer, closer – this is not enough. Not close enough. And you feel the same as you pull him closer by the collar and he groans into your mouth.  You can taste the warm cocoa on his tongue and his smell invades all your senses – cigarettes, his cologne and something entirely him. Musky and sweet. Your cheeks burn and your palms are sweaty when he pulls away from the kiss – his hands brushing along the exposed skin on your back, his thumb circling your hip. His forehead rests on yours as he tries to calm down and your nails scrape across his exposed chest – he always has a few buttons unbuttoned on his shirt and it drives you insane. He moans when he feels the sensation of your nails on his skin – his hips bucking up to meet yours and you mewl as you feel the bulge press up against your core.

“Fuck, Bee. I want to fuck you so badly. Do you want that too? Tell me. Tell me, please.” Javier Peña said please. He never says please. Yoou nod furiously as you peck him on the lips – his mouth surges to meet yours once again and you lap at his lower lip, your hands fisting into the material of his shirt.  

“Wanted this since I was 16 and crazy in love with you, Javi.” You whisper against his lips and your confession makes his heart beat with joy. You loved him. He grips the flesh on your hips and mumbles a breathy “okay” before he stands up and carries you with him – your legs wrap around his middle. He stumbles a few times and almost trips on the stairs as he keeps kissing you – his tongue nibbling at your collarbones, his hands supporting your weight as he holds you by the back of your thighs.  

When you arrive in his room he throws you on the bed and starts to quickly undress. His fingers shake and he can't seem to unbutton the fucking shirt. Fuck. He stands in front of the edge of the bed and you lean back on your elbows – your gaze heavy with lust. As you see him struggling you crawl onto the edge of the bed and loop your fingers between his belt. He stops and looks at you – you eye the heavy bulge between his thighs and he gulps when your fingers trail his jean-clad cock which jumps with interest under your touch. He has never been this fucking hard before and he knows it's not because for the past few months, the only thing he has been fucking was his fist – it's because of you. “Let me.” You murmur and he nods, he watches your nimble fingers working on his buttons and when he shackles the piece of clothing off him your hands map out his chest, coming down to his belly button and you lick your lips when you see the trail of hairs leading down into the waistband of his jeans. You kiss him right there – on the soft swell of his tummy – and he jumps forward, his hands gripping your head to keep you there. You grin against his skin and your tongue pokes out of your mouth to lick him there – he shudders, and the grip on your head loosens. You pull away from him and your hands start working on his belt – it falls to the ground with a quiet cling of the metal.  

You cup him in your hand through the fabric of his jeans – even now you can feel how heavy he is and that he will feel fucking big inside of you. “You are a big boy aren't you, Javi?” He whimpers at your question and nods furiously as he looks down at you – your gaze immediately locking with his as you are already peering up at him through your eyelashes and you pout at his state. You never expected Javier to be so...needy. He closes his eyes when you squeeze him again and then he hears the sound of a zipper, he feels your breath ghosting over his tip. “No underwear?” He shakes his head and chokes when you lick the salty precum.

“No-no. Fuck. Too uncomfortable.” His eyes close as if he's in pain and his nostril flare when he feels the first velvety slide of your tongue against his cock. Your pulse quickens and you feel too fucking powerful right now as you feel him swell even more in your mouth. You hold his gaze as you pull off of him and flatten your tongue – licking your way to the underside of his cock. His hands cradle the back of your head, his pupils completely blown as he watches you put open-mouth kisses onto the hard warm flesh that jumps under your attention.  

And he is fucking big – his size obvious by sight and by the way he feels around your hand – heavy and warm. But you really feel it when you take him deeper into your throat the girth of his cock opens your mouth wider. The broken sound between a whimper and a groan makes you clench around nothing and he tastes exactly how you imagined him – clean and delicious – exactly like Javier looks. You can't fit all of him in your mouth but you try – focusing on your breathing and relaxing your throat – the squelching sounds of your mouth bobbing up and down his length filling the room. You try to take him deeper and deeper – until you gag around him and pull away. Javis's mouth is wide open when you pull off of him – spit trailing from your lips and connecting you to the swollen tip of his cock. His chest heaves and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip – collecting the saliva – and puts it in his mouth – he groans with approval and it makes you want to give him more.  You sink your awaiting mouth back onto his cock once more and moan when another spurt of precum lands on your tongue. Your hand is securely wrapped around the base of his cock as you stroke him slowly and you look back up at him.

He looks absolutely and positively wrecked – his hair falling in front of his eyes and sticking to his forehead as he grits his teeth struggling to not make you take him deeper – to not fuck your throat. His grip on your hair tightens as he starts panting harshly and you feel him twitch in your mouth – you can feel he is almost there – but then he pulls back from you.

He almost lifts you into the air as his tongue delves into your mouth – wanting to taste himself on you. The bitterness of himself on your tongue makes him groan into your mouth and you never expected him to be this vocal. He steps out of his jeans and then he is back on you – his fingers working on the straps of your dress while he plants butterfly kisses on the column of your throat. He discards the piece of clothing as if it has offended him somehow and he pulls back to look at you – you can see the muscle on his thigh flex as he tries to keep his balance on his heels. His hands reach back for you – grabbing you under your knees before he is pulling you closer to him. His fingers dip into the waistband of your panties before they are too thrown somewhere behind him.  

His thick fingers work their way inside you without a warning – two of them plunging deep. You are soft, and pliant under him. Your walls squeeze him tight when he moves his finger up, up – until you sob and grab his wrist - to stop him or to plea for him to keep doing that you aren't sure. It never felt like this and he grins against the flesh of your cheek – kissing you there softly. His other hand grabs one of your tits and he pinches the nipple – it hardens under his hard touch. He bends down to suck it into his mouth and your hand shoots out to the back of his head – keeping him there. One of your thighs is firmly planted on his shoulder and his fingernails dig into your ankle, the blunt nails creating crescent shapes. Your heel digs into his shoulder with a particular shove into your cunt – the tips of his fingers brushing against something that makes you hold your breath.

The way you keep repeating his name makes him want to never leave your perfect cunt. His name and the wet sounds of your pussy sucking him in make him light-headed. He wishes no one would call him Javi again after he hears it from your mouth – whiny and high-pitched, filled with the need to let go.  

“Come on, Bee. I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking give it to me. I want you to soak my fingers.” You nod vigorously and sob when his thumb starts drawing harsh circles against your clit. He hits nerves inside of you you didn’t even knew you had before. You take everything he gives – the flick of his wrist, his fingers petting your walls, his mouth on yours. You cum when he bites you into the juncture between your shoulder and neck – his tongue smoothing the bite. You feel him smile against your mouth when you cry out into him – his fingers still working inside of you until you wheeze and tell him to stop. He pulls them out and maps your body with your juices – the slick trail shining under the moonlight that falls onto the both of you.  

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom – ripping the foil packet between his teeth before he puts it onto his length. He sits up on his heels – his cock bobbing with the movement and you gulp as he pats his thigh – telling you to come to him and you do – all jelly legged and sedated after your first orgasm. He pulls you close by the small of your back and his cock nudges against your entrance when you swing your legs around his waist. His hairy legs stick to the back of your thighs and you can feel the sweat rolling off him – his hands supporting you as you sink down on him. Your mouth forming into an “o” and you let out a breathless moan. You knew he was big – as his girth opened up your mouth more and the weight of him heavy on your tongue. But this feels entirely different. You squirm on his lap and he grunts – his other hand coming down onto the flesh of your ass. The pinch you feel as he fills you completely is uncomfortable and you grip his bicep – your nails digging into the flesh there. He hisses and kisses you – the kiss languid and slow. His tongue traces your mouth and your grip loosens – your muscles start to relax.

 “Javi, you are so big.” You don’t say him to make him feel better or feed his ego – it's just a fact. Clear and simple. His nose bumps against yours and he looks into your eyes – he is so close he is breathing the oxygen you exhale. 

 “I know, hermosa. But you can take it. Can’t you?” The new term of endearment falling out of his mouth is surprising but welcome nevertheless. He waits for your answer as he fights himself not to move – your walls squeezing around him and he counts to five so he doesn’t cum right now like some kind of fucking teenager.

  Javier slept with a lot of women. One night stands, prostitutes, his fiancé. But he never felt like this with anyone. His heart never hammered in his chest so quickly and the blood in his veins didn’t boil. His skin never felt like it was on fire by a simple touch. It's new and he welcomes it with open arms. He is tired of fighting and running. This is his new life and it's not too bad – it's better than it ever was. He never feels small with you and he chases that feeling.

 “Yes, I can. I can take it. Please move, Javi.” He listens to your command – the first drag of his cock through your walls feels intoxicating. His hot breath fans against your chest as his forehead rests on it and his hand that was gripping your ass moves to your hip – dragging you up and down his cock as you meet his every perfectly measured thrust. He maps your body and listens to your reactions – he figures out what you like or what you really don’t after a few minutes as he pounds into you.

You don’t know which one of you is louder but it makes him even sexier – the guys you’ve been with before weren't so enthusiastic about it and you felt like they didn’t even wanted to be there – the only hint of them enjoying it was when they came with a quiet grunt and fall onto the bed next to you. Javier is different – he always was – and you live for all the sounds he makes. How he gropes you and maps out your body – his fingers dipping into every crease and curve of your body. And you can feel that in each thrust there is this hidden emotion that he doesn’t want to show. But you grew up with him and can read him pretty well – and your heart swells with the unspoken words. You don’t need to hear them. He will figure it out himself eventually.  

He feels that you are close after he gives you a particularly hardh thrust and you squeal – your nails scratching his muscular back that you’ve been ogling anytime he came out of the shower without a t-shirt or when it was too hot outside and decided the piece of clothing wasn’t necessary in that kind of weather. His mustache scrapes along the flesh on your breasts and you feel his hips shift – the change of position making him feel even bigger. He puts his thumb into your mouth as he looks at you and you suck it – it tastes of you and sweat but you don’t care – as he pulls it out and starts rubbing your clit with it.

 It only takes a few drags of his cock before you are cumming – your clit throbbing as he keeps pressure on it. Your walls squeeze him and he feels like he can't move any further. Your fingers curl into his hair and tug him so he is looking at you. He is all lust-blown eyes and his baring teeth turned into a snarl. You can feel every vein and bump in his cock with every thrust and he twitches inside of you – his hand coming to hold the hinge of your jaw as his tongue tangles with yours once again. It's frantic as are his deep thrusts and you are pretty sure he will break the bed soon – the headboard hitting the wall with every pass of his hips. You admire how fucking lost in you he looks – slack-jawed and dazed. You tug on his hair once more and the reaction is almost instant – his hips faltering for a moment seemingly losing his rhythm. 

“Come on, Javi. I want you to look at me when you cum.” Your requests makes him shut his eyes before he shudders and opens them – your name a broken record when he spills into the condom. You scratch him on the back of his head – your movements slow and languid. He pulls out of you after a moment – when he catches his breath and his heartbeat evens out – even though when he is with you it seems impossible. 

The aftercare is soft and sweet as he lays on his back and pulls you close to him – stroking your spine and kissing the top of your head. 

“Do you want me to leave?” He pulls you tighter against him after you ask him that and he grips your chin so you look at him. 

“Never again, Bee. I want you right here with me.” You sigh in contentment and give him a sweet kiss.

 You are definitely his type, Javier thinks as he feels your breath even out and slowly, he falls asleep too – you in his arms – and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[huellitaa]

🤍𓂃 ࣪˖ if you can read this, it means you're still here! which is an achievement in itself. im so proud of you. <3

i have been falling back into some bad habits recently, and thinking about it a lot. i had a really, really bad night last night and this morning i woke up with puffy eyes and a messy room but i felt light.

imagine yourself in december this year. imagine yourself looking back on today and smiling at how far you've come. everything can change in one year. everything can change at any time.

there is a whole entire world for you. the sound of rain on the glass, the way the petals fall in the spring, the way the sun rises in the morning, that stranger that smiled at you on the street, that cute little dog you saw on your way to work or school or wherever you went to this morning.

there are people you haven't even met who are cheering you on. you have so many people admiring you from the sidelines because they're too shy to say it. i have been one of those people and still am. there are people who admire the tiniest things about you; the creases by your eyes when you smile, the cute little dimples on your cheeks, the way your hair gets so messy after being out in the wind, the way you hold yourself with such confidence, the way you try so hard to be better every day even if it's hard.

there are people who love you beyond belief that you've never even met yet. because there is so much to be explored, so much to be learnt, so much to see and so much to meet. 8 billion people. 8 billion. even if it feels like you're surrounded by people who don't love you, who don't want the best for you, who don't take care of you and admire you half as much as they should, they are not the last people in the world, and they never will be. there are 8 billion people! think about that for a second! there is someone who is wishing for you the way you are wishing for them! there are people who have so much love for you they haven't even had the chance yet to express!! that's so beautiful!!! <3

there are people who do love you beyond belief, even if you guys don't talk anymore. there are people who smile when they look back on you guys time together, from your childhood best friend to that girl you complimented in the street years and years and years ago. there are people who look back on your memory fondly and still love you and are so happy to see you flourishing.

its okay to be sensitive, its okay to get upset by things. not everything is going to be okay all the time, and neither are you. you can't have good without the bad, and the good always comes afterwards better than you'd ever imagined. life is feeling everything deeply and learning from it, no matter how hard it was or still is. you can always make it through because the most sensitive people are the strongest people.

there is so much life left. you are so young, no matter how old you are. there is so much you can do, so much you will do, so many achievements to be made, so many friends to meet, so many experiences you can learn from. you will get your happily ever after and you will make something beautiful out of your life because life is messy and imperfect and constantly growing and that is beauty.

please keep living, because there is so much to live for. even if you want to go back to that home of sadness you've built over the years, even if growth is messy and uncomfortable, even if things aren't going too great right now, even if it's not everything you thought it would be, you've survived your entire life with you helping you through it even if you've been alone.

you've picked yourself back up every. single. time. and are still making an active effort. that is extremely strong and you've done more than 90% of other people would do in your position and all the things you've been through. you've tried so hard and you should be so proud of yourself. and you should keep going for, because the life you're dreaming of is so close. please smile. please never give up. there is so much left to live for. i love you & you should do the same.

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (XIV)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 5.8k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous - Next

"Darling."

You glance up at Namjoon, abandoning the half-finished scarf you've been slowly unraveling for the last hour. He stands at the foot of the couch, glasses slipping down his nose as he struggles to hold on to all of the books piled up in his arms.

You jump out of your seat to help him, grabbing half of the stack to place it on the table next to you with a small huff.

The books are thick and heavy, and you doubt that any of the volumes are under five hundred pages. Most of the spines in Namjoon's arms look old and weathered, like their proper place should be under a glass case in a museum instead of a library.

Namjoon breathes out a sigh of relief as he carefully deposits the rest of the books next to the others. He nudges his glasses back in place with a small chuckle as he says, "I must be getting out of shape, I don't remember them being this heavy."

"I doubt it," You mutter, sneaking a quick look at how visible Namjoon's muscles are even under his thick sweater. 

"What did you say, darling? I didn't catch it," Namjoon gives you a curious look. 

"Ah, it's nothing!" You flash him a quick smile, swiftly shifting your focus back to the table. 

Namjoon furrows his brows at the way you suddenly avert your eyes, the tops of your cheeks growing warm. He glances down at his sweater, worried that he might have missed a stain. There's nothing that looks out of the ordinary, but Namjoon still dusts off the bright red wool for good measure, a little perplexed by the strange look you were giving him. 

"I brought the books you asked for, this is everything we had on soulmates and soulbonds," Namjoon clears his throat. He steps closer to the table, picking up a few of the books before he starts sorting them into smaller piles, "These are the most recent publications and the ones furthest to the right are the oldest ones. I found a couple down in the archives too. They're not supposed to leave the library since they're so old but, well, I'm sure no one would mind a little exception. I know you'll take good care of them." 

"I'll be careful," You nod, brushing a finger over the spine of what looks to be the oldest book. 

"Good," Namjoon flashes you a warm grin, his dimples on show. He reaches out to stroke your hair, tucking a lock behind your ears as he gently says, "I hope they can be a nice distraction for you. I know you've been feeling down since you talked to Heejun."

"Thank you," You give him a tight smile, refusing to comment on it. You know it annoys them that you're not willing to open up more, that you don't want to talk about your emotions, but what's the use in bringing up something they won't understand? They are the ones making you sad, not Heejun. 

It's been a week since you last spoke to him, and your heart still aches from it. Hearing his voice felt like splitting open a barely closed wound. You can't shake off how mournful he sounded when he said his goodbyes, like he knew you wouldn't be able to contact him again for quite some time. It has left you feeling unsettled. And, since your days are filled with nothing; you have more than enough time to think, think, and think some more. You sometimes wonder if cabin fever will take you out before the soulbond does. 

It feels like time barely passes here and yet you know that the sun rises and sets, that the minutes are steadily ticking away even if you feel frozen. Using your phone finally gave you an opportunity to pinpoint the date. The day you talked to Heejun was December 11th and now that one week has already passed, there are only seven days left until Christmas. It's odd to think back to how you celebrated the holidays last year, and how different your life was then. You knew of your soulmates but you didn't know them. You were scared but you were free. 

You shake yourself loose from your thoughts as Namjoon presses a soft kiss to your cheek, catching the tail end of his sentence as he says, "– for you, just call for me if you need any help, darling." 

"Great, I'll do that," You say. Namjoon doesn't seem to have noticed your wavering attention. 

You can only assume he mentioned he would leave you to read in peace, as he gives you another warm smile before he straightens up and exits the room. You hear him greet Hoseok in the kitchen, their voices just distant enough that you can't pick up on what they're talking about. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to empty your mind to focus on the task at hand. You did ask Namjoon for these books for a reason, so you must utilize the time you have. Namjoon seems to have borrowed the entire section the library has on soulmate-related books, so it's only a matter of time before someone comes asking for them.

You decide you might as well begin with the newer books first, they should hopefully contain all the information and studies that have been done on the bond over the last three hundred years or so. You grab one that looks somewhat familiar to you, a newer edition of a volume you're sure you did a paper on back in middle school. Skimming through it, you quickly skip to the section that talks more in-depth about bonds. You already know all of the basics, the history, the tale of the first two soulmates – it's practically ingrained into you from birth. What you need is something different, something uncommon in the sea of familiar facts. 

You're disappointed when you realize that the book barely touches upon soulbonds with more than two people. Having two or more soulmates isn't that uncommon but it's also not the norm. The most you've ever heard of was a group of five soulmates and they were treated as a media spectacle from the moment they announced it. You remember the headlines reading along the lines of rare, strange and unprecedented – so you can only imagine that if there are more groups like them out there, they're keeping quiet about it. The soulmates that did choose to step forward about their bond were insistent that it was the same as a bond between two people; they all loved each other and their connection was equally as strong for every soulmate. Their situation was clearly very different from yours. 

You close the book with a huff, moving on to the next one. There's a brief mention that soulbonds with more than two soulmates require a bit more work, but that's all. It's barely enough to fill a sentence. Your frustration only grows with every book you look through, it's just the same information regurgitated over and over. You know there's something out there though, the story Namjoon told you shortly after you had woken up at the cabin must come from somewhere. Namjoon might have found the excerpt online but you do recall that it was supposedly from an old and rather obscure book.

Your gaze drifts over to the book that looks like it's falling apart at the seams, the etching on the cover so old that the letters have been lost to time. You find yourself holding your breath as you gingerly pick it out of the pile, wincing as you feel the pages shift within the book. There's a small note attached to the front of it, one that reads: NO PUBLIC ACCESS. For a split second it makes you pause, thoughts that it might actually be a valuable book crossing your mind, but you quickly disregard them. If this book was important, it would've never been left to rot in the library archive. 

Carefully placing it in front of you, you open the front of the book slowly, mindful to prop it up with your hand so that you're not causing too much tension to the spine. The insides look as tattered as the front, the title page barely legible. The font is cursive and swooping, the letters blending together so well it's hard to make out much of it. In the end, all you can decipher is that it says soulmates and that it was written in the year 1783.

You turn the page, squinting at the faded words. The layout of it reminds you more of a diary than a book, with random dates placed before every entry. They explain how the author decided to travel around to gather stories about soulmates, soulbonds and the people they met along the way. After some twenty-odd pages, you finally come across what looks to be a table of contents. Tracing your finger down the side, you halt as you make out the words nucleus bonds.

Bingo.

You feel your pulse kick up a beat as you flip to the correct page. The title reads 'Highly unusual cases of soulbonds and soulmates' and you can tell from the first sentence that this must be the excerpt Namjoon had found online. 

It describes just what Namjoon talked about; that while there's always a risk of one soulmate feeling the bond more intensely than the other, the probability of it happening is heightened the bigger the bond is. Skewed bonds are typically seen in groups of four or more soulmates, as it is likely that one soulmate in particular becomes the nucleus of the bond – the center that holds it all together. The book goes on to mention examples, old cases of nucleus bonds you've never heard of. They seem more like fables than true stories, all of them more fantastical than the last, but it does seem that Namjoon was right. In the olden days, nucleus bonds were viewed as a gift bestowed upon them from the heavens. That the ones that found themselves experiencing it were special – powerful. 

"What a fucking joke," You sigh.

The only thing this bond has made you feel is helpless. 

There's a small paragraph at the end of the page, one you suspect wasn't included on the digital scan Namjoon found.

While powerful, nucleus bonds can quickly go awry if the proper precautions are not taken to ensure the bond's well-being. For ill effects of the bond, please see the entry on Lovesickness.

You feel your mouth go dry, a heavy pit settling in your stomach. This must be it. You can't help the slight tremble to your fingers as you flip to the correct page, unease and excitement blending into a confusing feeling. You desperately want to know what's going on, if there's something that's causing the boys to act the way that they are, but the title worries you. Not all illnesses can be cured. You've survived on the small hope that you might be able to help them but if that gets taken away, what will you have left?

You chew on the inside of your cheek, nervous, as you land on the right entry. 

// Lovesickness Lovesickness, or soul sickness, occurs when the bond between two or more soulmates is neglected. This illness has only been recorded in bonds with a nucleus soulmate and is thus regarded as a prominent ill effect. While skewed bonds may occur in any soulbond, it is even more likely to do so in instances where one soulmate is viewed as the nucleus. It is a dangerous soulbond, as it makes the other soulmates unstable and there is an especially high risk that they will crave closeness with the nucleus to make up for the weakened connection to the rest of their soul-group. The other soulmates or "the outsiders", are known to grow irrational, obsessive, angry, highly emotional, and in some extreme cases, they can even be influenced by other outsiders' emotions despite their weakened bond. After first contact is made, it is imperative that the affected soulmates spend time together to minimize the risk of soul sickness. Failing to do so will have grave consequences. //

"Oh gods," You whisper, staring at the book in mild horror. 

If what the book is saying is correct, then that means that everything that has happened over the last year isn't completely their fault. 

The soulbond must have started slowly poisoning their minds ever since they met years ago. They didn't even know they were soulmates back then, not until that night in Hoseok's shop, so you can't imagine they have been able to nurture the bond properly. Their connection was so weak they probably mistook it as simply wanting to become friends and even though you know they're all close, you also know that their schedules are so conflicting that it's impossible for all of them to hang out as much as they should have. The bond was practically doomed even before they met you. 

It makes sense that they all came together before you did, that perhaps there was a part of them that couldn't seek the nucleus out before they had collected the rest of the group. The sickness must've become even worse once they did find you – festering and growing stronger the longer they tried to stay away. You wonder if it was the bond that made them keep their distance back then. If their souls recognized that your connection to them was weaker than it was supposed to be, maybe that's part of what made them so scared to approach you. Regardless, it had likely reached a critical point when they decided to kidnap you, their souls so affected, so warped, by the illness that they had no other choice. 

All of this – everything that has happened – has been out of their control. How were they supposed to fight an illness they didn't know they had? 

You cover your face with both hands, muffling your choked breaths. You feel lost in a way you haven't before. Their actions are still not excused, you can't find it in yourself to forgive them for all the hurt and trauma they've caused you. But you can understand why they ended up going down the path they did now, because, well, it turns out they didn't have much of a choice at all.

There's no right answer here and you're finding yourself at a loss of what to do. You doubt that telling them about it will change anything, not when they're this far gone already. They'll probably just look at it as you trying to distance yourself from them again. 

You drag your fingers down your face with a low groan, glancing down at the book. The entry on lovesickness doesn't go past the page and you can't find any additional information that describes what you should do if something like this has already occurred; just that it's important to make sure that the bond doesn't get messed up in the first place. With the book being so old, well over two hundred years, it's not like you can reach out to the author for help either. But there must be something you can do.  

Thrumming your fingers against the table, you shift your focus towards the kitchen, to the soft sound of Hoseok's laughter. Now that you think about it, the boys have become more trusting, more mellow, over the past months. They have started leaving you alone for longer periods of time and they have calmed down significantly compared to when they first brought you here. Perhaps.. If your distance is what worsened their illness, maybe this – being close – is what is going to cure them? You doubt it can ever bring them back to normal, whatever that may be, but it could help stabilize them. 

If you try, really try, to accept them for what they are now and return their affection, it might help the bond settle faster. 

You give yourself a weak nod, closing the book as you push yourself up on your feet. You don't like thinking about affection, love, as just a means to an end, but it's not like the situation you're in is normal. You're willing to do anything if it'll get you out of here, and in the end, you're doing this to help both yourself and them. You might have tried to deny it this whole time but it doesn't change the fact that they're still your soulmates. As awful as it is, you have some responsibility over them too. 

You ignore the queasy feeling lingering in your stomach, shaking out your limbs before you muster up the most genuine smile you can. You just have to try. 

"Hey guys," You call out, crossing the common room to go join Hoseok and Namjoon in the kitchen, "What are you up to?"

Soft sunlight streams in through the windows, warming your feet just so as you stand in one of the illuminated patches on the floor. There's activity from every corner of the cabin, Sundays being the only day all of them are able to gather at the same time. It's been four days since you realized just how messed up your bond is and you've been trying your best to stop pushing the boys away since then.

You look wistfully out of the window, the white snow sparkling under the sun. You haven't really been much outside since you tried to escape, their trust in you is too broken to allow you to. The most you've done is stand on top of the stairs with the door open; Namjoon waiting a few steps down in case you should be stupid enough to try to run, and Seokjin behind you, holding on to one of your hands.

You miss being able to walk around and move your body more, and you truly are beginning to go a little stir-crazy. 

"Hi baby," Jimin croons as he wraps his arms around your waist, gluing himself against your back, "What are you thinking about?" 

You lean into Jimin's hold, your heart quickening at the kiss he plants at the back of your neck. You let out a small sigh as you confess, "I'm bored." 

"Bored, hm? Anything in particular you'd like to do? I can think of a few ways to waste time." 

You can hear the smirk in Jimin's voice, heat rising to your cheeks as you remember the night you spent together.

"Actually–" You pause, bracing yourself for a negative reaction before you say, "I'd like to do something outside today. The weather is so nice." 

Jimin's arms tighten around you like a snake, so tense you worry they might pop right off his body. "Outside?" He echoes. 

"What's outside?" Hoseok seems to have abandoned whatever he was doing earlier in his room, his sudden appearance startling you slightly. 

"Y/n was just telling me that she's bored and that she wants to do something. Outside," Jimin fills him in, voice void of any emotion. 

Hoseok is silent as he walks across the room, meeting your gaze with raised eyebrows as you turn to look at him. He doesn't look away until he's standing next to you and Jimin, his eyes briefly flickering down to the death grip the younger has on you before they fly back to your face. "Why would you want that, sunshine?" 

It's not an immediate no – so you jump on the chance to play it up a little and use it to your advantage. 

"I just want to hang out with you guys outside, maybe do something fun. I just thought it would be nice to do something, you know, together," You pout. The sparkling snow in your peripheral gives you an idea. "Maybe a snowball fight?" 

Hoseok shares a look with Jimin over your shoulder, one that's long enough to almost make you nervous. Jimin eventually relaxes when Hoseok gives him a nod. It's hard to tell what's going through his head but surprisingly, Hoseok doesn't seem too put off by the idea. Maybe they really have begun to trust you again, or maybe this is just another test. Either way, it's something you can make use of. 

Hoseok reaches out to touch your cheek, his lips curving into a heart-shaped smile as he says, "That sounds like a good idea, sunshine. I'll go ask the others if they want to join."

"I call dibs on being on Y/n's team," Jimin says, smug. 

Hoseok's smile grows a little more dangerous as he moves his attention back to Jimin, "We'll see about that, Jiminie." 

You grunt as Seokjin tugs firmly on your jacket, sending you a step forward.

You're wearing so many layers you can barely move, all of them too big. The boys took great joy in dressing you up in their winter clothes, as nothing you have at the cabin is fit for withstanding the cold. You're glad you don't have to freeze, but the fact that everything you're wearing is too big doesn't evade you. They must still be worried about you trying to run away if they're trying to impede your ability to move.

You know not to make a fuss about it though, it's better to just go along with their whims when it's something so harmless. 

"Watch your chin," Seokjin warns before he drags the zipper up, sealing you in. 

"Thanks," You say, nodding for good measure. Your voice is so muffled behind Jungkook's thick scarf that you can barely hear your own voice. 

Seokjin flashes you a grin, gesturing to the door. "Go on then, sweetheart. You're going to overheat if you stay inside here for too long." 

You waddle over to the door, practically dragging your feet with how heavy the boots you borrowed from Namjoon are. You can hear the others talking outside, only Seokjin left behind as he volunteered to help you get everything on. You're admittedly glad you didn't just brush him off because there's no way you would be able to bend down with how thick your jacket and snow pants are. 

A burst of biting cold air hits you as you open the door. It takes you a moment to get used to the temperature difference but once you do, you shuffle down the stairs as quickly as you can manage. Hearing the snow crunch under your boots and feeling the sun warm the little skin you have exposed makes your heart swell. You finally feel alive again. 

"Y/n, there you are!" Taehyung throws the half-formed snowball in his hands to the ground, waving you over to where the rest of them are busy shoveling snow. The boys have already managed to clear a decent-sized patch, patting the shoveled snow into two barriers on the opposite sides of the cleared ground. Jungkook and Yoongi have even had time to start making two piles of snowballs, stacking up a good amount of them. 

Taehyung is sporting a wide smile by the time you make it over, his eyes twinkling as he opens his mouth.

"Don't say anything," You cut him off, huffing from the restrictive layers. Taehyung holds up his hands in surrender, chuckling as you try (and fail) to cross your arms. 

"I wasn't going to," He looks you up and down once, biting down on his lip to stifle his laughter. "But if I was, I'd say you look like a cute marshmallow." 

You groan. "This is way too much! I can barely move." 

"It's just to keep you warm, babe. We don't want you getting sick," Taehyung bops your nose with his glove. "Your team will cover you during the fight anyway, you won't have to move around too much." 

"Fine, if you say so," You murmur, not entirely convinced. You know all of the boys, especially Jungkook, have a competitive streak, so you doubt it's going to be as easy as Taehyung makes it seem.

"Seokjin hyung!" Taehyung calls out as he looks over your shoulder, "Hurry up! We need to divide the teams!"

It's quickly decided that the best way to do so is by playing Rock-Paper-Scissors. It takes a few rounds to get it right but in the end, you're teamed up with Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon, while the other four make up the opposing team. 

"My poor angel, I can't believe she's been doomed to be on the losing team," Jimin sighs, all dramatic. He shoots Seokjin a teasing smile, like he just knows his hyung won't be able to resist rising to the bait. 

"Losing team?!" Seokjin exclaims, just as predicted, poking his finger into Jimin's chest, "How are you expecting to win? You and Yoongi are too short to even look over the barrier!" 

"Hey! Don't drag me into this," Yoongi pouts, swatting Seokjin's hand away from Jimin. "Let's just start the game. Namjoon, what are the rules?" 

Namjoon claps his hands together, gathering everyone's attention. "Alright, so the rules are very simple. You're allowed to run up to the line that goes through the middle of the cleared area. That means that some of the trees around here can be used for cover as long as you don't cross the line. If you're hit, you're out and have to wait off to the side for the game to end. One team wins when all the players on the opposite team are eliminated. Yoongi hyung and Jungkook have already made a pile of snowballs for each team, but we'll get exactly one minute before the game starts to make as many additional ones as possible."

"Everyone got it?" He asks, looking around the group. You all chime out yes, watching as Namjoon pulls out his phone and sets the timer to 60 seconds.

"Okay, as soon as I hit this, the game starts! Three, two, one– Go!"

You hurry as best you can over to the closest barrier, letting Hoseok drag you along to give you some extra speed. He helps you kneel once you reach it, looking over at Seokjin and Namjoon as he asks, "Okay, so what's our plan? We can't let sunshine get hit." 

"They have Jungkook, so they're going to go in for an intense attack right away. I think our best bet is to just wait until they start slowing down and then attack back. Jimin is probably going to try to sneak closer to the line once it dies down from their side, so let's try to take him out quickly," Namjoon says, keeping his voice low enough that it won't carry over to the other team.

"Sounds good," Seokjin hums. He hastily forms another snowball, adding it to the growing pile beside you. 

"I think you better try to stay out of the way as much as possible, darling, they can get pretty brutal," Namjoon adds, shooting you a worried look.

"That's probably for the best," You agree, slumping further down behind the barrier. There's no way you'll be able to play when you're this bundled up, you doubt you'll be able to duck in time if you even attempt to throw a snowball. 

"Okay, then–" Namjoon's eyes go wide as the alarm on his phone rings out into the near quiet forest. He mutters a curse as he ducks down the best he can, fumbling to turn it off.

The moment it goes silent, mayhem breaks loose. Snowballs start raining down immediately, hitting the barrier with dull thuds. You squeak as one lands right in front of your knees, nearly hitting you. You quickly shuffle to the side, practically crawling, as you hear the other team yell and taunt yours to fight back. 

Just as the attack begins to wind down, Namjoon gestures for the rest of you to lay low while he peeks over the edge.

He's hit in the shoulder before you can even blink, a burst of snow raining down on the rest of the team. Namjoon flashes you all a dumbfounded look as he stumbles back, reaching up to dust off the lingering snow as someone calls out 'You're out!' from the other side.

"They mean business," Namjoon mumbles, shaking his head as he hands his snowball over to Seokjin. 

"We'll get revenge for you, Joonie," Hoseok's expression is somber, a little too serious for a snowball fight. 

"They always get a little too into it, don't mind them," Seokjin whispers, pulling a face.

The moment Namjoon has safely left the area, the fight picks back up, Hoseok and Seokjin joining in on it. It doesn't take long before you hear an indignant cry coming from the other team, Seokjin yelling out a cheer at the direct hit he landed on Jimin. 

You feel like a sitting duck behind the barrier, unable to help your team with how tightly you're bundled up. With the boys still distracted by the ongoing fight, you quickly unzip your jacket in your crouched position, throwing it to the side. Thanks to Seokjin going a little overboard with dressing you up, you already had another jacket underneath to keep you warm. You smile, already feeling a little lighter. 

"Keep going, I'll cover your left," You murmur to Hoseok as you crawl behind him, your sight set on one of the closest trees. You ignore him as he hisses out your name, clearly confused as to why you're moving away from the barrier that's protecting you. 

There's a decent gap between the edge of the barrier and the nearest tree, so you'll have to make a run for it and hope that you manage to catch the others off-guard enough that they won't be able to hit you. You take a deep breath as you bring yourself up to a crouch, placing your hands on the snow for extra support. You shoot off as fast as you can but the big snow pants slow you down significantly, almost reducing your speed to a leisurely stroll. You barely manage to duck behind the first tree, taking cover, when you hear a snowball explode against it. 

"How could you aim for your soulmate?!" You hear Hoseok yell out. 

"Uhm, all is fair in love and war?" Taehyung sheepishly calls back. 

You huff, collecting yourself for a minute before you dare to peek around the tree. The coast seems to be clear, neither Jungkook nor Taehyung is looking your way. You can't spot Yoongi, so you can only assume he's ducked behind the barrier, making more snowballs to keep up with the tempo the two youngest are throwing them at. 

It's now or never.

You use the tree to give yourself a needed push forward, running towards the much larger one that's square in the middle of the cleared area. You're so focused on making it there without getting hit from the side that it takes you a second too long to realize that someone is coming full speed right at you. You barely manage to slow down before you crash right into Yoongi, the two of you stumbling into each other. Yoongi grabs your waist to steady you just as you reach out for his shoulders, your eyes locked in surprise. 

"You scared me," Yoongi wheezes, pulling you tighter against him as another snowball smacks into the tree. 

"Sorry," You puff, "You caught me off-guard too." 

You're both panting from the tiresome terrain, your breaths swirling up towards the sun. Yoongi's cheeks are rosy from the cold, the tip of his nose colored a precious pink. He looks so cute that you almost don't know what to do with yourself.

Your gloved hands find their way from Yoongi's shoulders to his cheeks, cupping them as you ask, "Are you cold?" 

"I-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to reply before you hear Taehyung get hit, a chorus of groans and cheers sounding from the other side of the tree.

If Taehyung is out, that means that only Yoongi and Jungkook are left. You might not have been able to do much until now, but you'd be damned if you can't at least help take Yoongi out. It might be time to play dirty, even if what you're about to do makes you feel a little bad.

You swoop in to kiss Yoongi the moment you hear Taehyung being greeted by Jimin and Namjoon, pressing your cold lips to his in a chaste kiss. You feel him going pliant in your hands as your heart begins to race, your body burning hot despite the cold.

Yoongi has a starstruck look in his eyes when you lean back, one that quickly morphs into confusion as you yell out Hoseok's name before you duck. A snowball hits Yoongi square in the chest a second later, forcing him to take a step back. 

"You– Seriously?" Yoongi shoots you a betrayed look as you get back to your feet. 

"I'm sorry," You flash him an apologetic smile as you brush the snow away. "I think all of the competitiveness might have rubbed off on me."

"Please forgive me?" You murmur, planting another kiss on his lips, one that lingers a little longer. 

"You're gonna be the death of me," Yoongi groans, shaking his head at the bright smile he gets in response. "Hurry back to your team, Y/n, you haven't won yet." 

Jungkook might be a great player, but he's no match for 3 against 1. It barely takes a minute from the moment Yoongi joins the sidelines until Hoseok lands a hit on him, finally eliminating the entire opposing team. Jungkook looks stunned that he actually got hit, eyes wide as he touches his stomach. Jimin and Taehyung groan in unison, immediately beginning to bicker about what went wrong. 

"Loser team my ass, Park Jimin!" Seokjin points to the sidelines with a wide grin, laughing as Jimin flips him off. 

Hoseok wraps you up in a hug, swaying you from side to side as he laughs. 

"We did it!" You squeal, wrapped up in a burst of happiness as Namjoon comes running over, the entire team huddling together as you celebrate your win. 

"Well done, angel, I didn't know you were so sneaky," Seokjin chuckles, kissing your cheek. 

"I think we might have found our secret weapon," Hoseok agrees, eying you fondly as he ruffles your hair. 

You look over to the other team as you attempt to duck away from Hoseok's hand, your smile growing bigger as you notice the other boys laughing and joking around too. Jungkook seems to be mimicking Yoongi throwing a snowball that didn't go very far, causing Jimin to laugh so hard that he falls over. 

Your heart swells at the scene, at finally seeing all of the boys act normal and happy. Maybe you actually can do this. Maybe it's not too late after all. 

"Come on, let's bring it in!" Namjoon grins, grabbing your hand.

As you all jump around in a circle, arms tangled together and spirits high; all you can think of is that it feels nice – special, even – like something you could get used to. 

a/n: what do we think about the new information the mc found – will it change anything?? and i hope you enjoyed some domestic time spent with the soulmates! (enjoy the good vibes while they last friends <3) i know i promised taegi last time but that has been pushed back to ch 15, so apologies for that, buuut you'll get taegi and namkook smut in one ch so i think that's a good deal, no? 🙈

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖 especially now that we're nearing the end of the story 🥺

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 18) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Angst; Family Drama; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You try to adapt to life without Jake beside you anymore.

Series Master List

Master List

Dear Jake,

You probably haven’t even reached the aircraft carrier yet. You might even still be on the ground in Miramar. But I couldn’t wait. I miss you. You’ve been gone for less than five hours, and I already miss you so much. I'm not saying that to try and make you feel bad, but because it's the only thing on my mind now.

Everyone offered to take me out today to try and distract me, but I declined. I think that I just want some time to myself. I honestly don't even want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll do some cleaning. Or who knows? Maybe I’m an accomplished knitter who hasn’t discovered her talent yet. Or maybe I’ll bake again. I don’t know. 

Also, all of the tee shirts you left behind are now mine. Sorry, it’s just wife rules. You shouldn’t have married me and knocked me up if you didn’t want me to steal your stuff. 

I miss you. I love you. And so does our little girl. Come home safe, Lieutenant Commander. That’s an order. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I went back to work today. Everyone tried to talk to me about you and the wedding and everything, but I just wanted to be left alone. Also, my cravings are all over the place now. And half of the stuff seems to make me throw up these days. Luckily, I still have the gum and toothbrush in my desk. 

How’s everything? I assumed that you made it to the carrier by now. Or maybe you’re somewhere else entirely.

You know all of those spy movies over romanticize how sexy it is to be waiting at home for your husband to return home from some top secret mission.

It’s not sexy. It’s just annoying. 

Here’s a photo of me and my bump. Don’t mind the mess in the background, I’m rearranging the whole apartment. Call it nervous organizing. It'll be cleaned up. Eventually.

She’s been a shy ever since you left. I can still feel her moving around, but even she seems to have realized that you're gone. I think that she just misses you. And I can’t blame her because I miss you too. 

I love you, Jake. Come home safely.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake, 

I got the package that you bought for me. I hope that you know that if you were here, I would have given you a rerun of that time that we went to that desert concert. The one where you wouldn't remove your hands from my waist for a second. I hope that your big promotion doesn’t change how much you enjoyed it when I tied your hands up back in your truck. 

Our daughter’s been moving around like crazy today ever since I played your voice for her. She doesn’t seem to be willing to kick yet, but we’ll get there in time. 

I let Emma take me out today. We just took a walk around her neighborhood. Baby girl finally went to bed after that. But knowing her, she’ll wake up just in time for me to go to bed. 

Here’s our photo from today. Emma took it. I can’t believe I’m going to get even bigger. You owe me a deep tissue massage on my back when you get home. And I’ll hold you to it. 

We love you and miss you, Jake. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Mav today. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong. Being alone with my thoughts just makes me sad and lonely and I don’t want our daughter to bake in that. She needs to inherit your smile and dimples, so I’m making a bigger effort to be happy. 

Penny took me to get my nails done today. I got a light pink for our daughter, but now everyone’s assuming that we’re having a girl. I haven’t confirmed it because we didn’t discuss it before you left but don’t be shocked when you come home to a lot of pink. 

I also started seriously researching some girl names. I never realized how many people I don’t like until I started trying to name our daughter. And you better speak up if any of the ones that I suggest are ones that have bad meanings to you.

I’m still digging through a whole bunch of lists but there’s such weird ones out there, Jake. And we cannot name our child something that would get us a look from her teachers. Or a stripper name.

I love you. Baby girl is behaving herself, but she misses you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

To My Beautiful Wife,

I finally got a chance to check my email. We’re settled on the carrier now, but we’ve been doing a lot of drills and long briefings. I'm sorry that I haven't written earlier. Know that the two of you are always on my mind.

I’m glad you got your gift. I tried to record what I could think of for our baby girl. I don’t want her to miss anything. And I don’t want her keeping you up at night. Has she kicked yet? By my count, you’re hitting seven months in a day or two.

Thanks for sending me those photos. I put up one of the two of you from that photo shoot in my plane. Really brightens up the place. But it also reminds me of what I’m missing. Sometimes I have to take it down so I can focus.

I miss you. I miss our little girl. Every day, every hour, every second. 

Try to relax. I know that everyone’s probably told you that a thousand times by now, but I don’t want you feeling stressed about me. I’m fine and I'll be home as soon as I can. Please tell me that you didn’t lift anything heavy while you were moving into Mav’s house. Or maybe it's better if you don't tell me.

And you can tell everyone about her. I don’t mind. It’s not like we could keep it a secret for much longer anyways. But make sure to mention that I was right. 

And you have to tell me the worst names that you've seen on these lists. I left a list of baby names I liked in my nightstand. I'd research them when I couldn't sleep at night.

I love you and I love our daughter. I’ll try to be home soon.

Your Husband,

Jake

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I had my seven month appointment today. Baby girl is healthy and still measuring a little small. But her heartbeat is strong and I can tell that she’s going to be stubborn coming out. The doctor says that it’s only a matter of time before she starts kicking. 

I hope that the ocean isn’t too rough and you can see the stars. I remember when Mav and I spent a month in Hawaii when I was a teenager. We saw the most beautiful stars there. What if we picked a star name for our daughter? Not Stella, though. That was our dog's name growing up and I can't name my daughter after a dog.

I didn’t lift anything. Mav wouldn’t let me. And neither would Bradley. They’re watching me like hawks these days. And no, I didn’t mean that as a bird joke. Also, I can’t name our daughter after a bird. I’m trying to end the family streak of joke names. 

Mckeighleigh was the most ridiculous looking name I’ve seen so far. And we’re not naming our daughter Precious either. Or worse, Chastity. I don’t know how those nurses keep a straight face when they hear those names. 

And your recording telling her to go to bed has come in handy lately. Though I did warn her that we’ll be discussing the fact that she only seems to listen to you about that when she comes out. 

I love you so much Jake. You’ll be home soon, I know it. And we’ll be waiting for you when you do. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I can't fall asleep, so I’m writing to you instead. And no, it wasn’t our baby girl who kept me up. I’ve had the worst heartburn these days. And Tums don’t do shit. They say that means that our daughter will come out with a full head of hair. I say that I'd take a bald baby in exchange for better sleep.

My baby shower is in a few days. Next weekend. Emma and Phoenix said that it was going to be relatively small, and I hope that they stick to it. I’m not really in the mood to see a lot of people anymore.

I yelled at Bradley the other day for making an omelet with three eggs because he left an egg in the carton without a 'friend' because he left an egg alone in its row since there was an odd number of eggs. Apparently, I kept crying about it for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t really remember much of that conversation. I’m pretty sure that Bradley’s keeping his distance now. You probably would have enjoyed seeing his face. 

I asked for a little box at my baby shower to put name suggestions in. I’m running out of ideas. I keep worrying that we’re going to name her something stupid. 

Baby girl is growing bigger, and I can’t believe that I’m still going to get fatter. I’m struggling to grab things off of the floor now. Maverick got me one of those grabby things that old people use. You would probably find it hilarious.

I love you. I miss you. I’ll write to you tomorrow. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

“Thank you,” you told Emma as she handed you a lemonade. 

Emma and Penny took you out for the day to spend some time out of Mav’s house. You were growing increasingly less interested in leaving your 'nest,' as Bradley nicknamed it, and they were trying their best to get you motivated to go out and continue to live your life.

You had done some shopping for a dress to wear to your baby shower and now the three of you were getting a snack before you’d head over to the Hard Deck for the rest of the afternoon. You chatted for a moment before you sighed, slowly got to your feet, and grabbed your purse from your chair. 

“Bathroom?” Emma asked you.

“Where else?” you joked, walking off. 

A few minutes later, as you were washing your hands at the sink, you looked up when another woman stepped inside the bathroom. You offered her a friendly smile before her familiarity suddenly struck you. Quickly drying your hands, you reached for your bag and turned to leave. But the woman stood directly in your path.

She had stripes of gray cutting through what appeared to be deep auburn hair. She carried herself with a sense of purpose. And an expensive handbag. She reminded you of some of the women you used to see at the country club that you worked at in college. The type who turned a blind eye when their pig husbands made some demeaning comment to the women on staff and were never seen without some kind of drink in their perfectly manicured hands.  

“You know who I am?” Georgia Seresin asked softly.

You stared her down, gripping the strap of you bag tightly. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you could practically feel the rhythm in your ears. Taking a breath and releasing it, you tilted your chin up and narrowed your eyes at her.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded quietly, looking around the small public bathroom. No one else was in there except for the two of you. “Are you stalking me?”

“I came to California when my son didn’t respond to my letter.”

“I wonder why?” you wondered sarcastically.

“What did he tell you?”  

“Everything,” you stated firmly. “Which is why I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like it was just a coincidence that you ran into me here, hundreds of miles from your home, when Jake is conveniently deployed.” You paused for a moment before repeating through gritted teeth, “Why are you here?”

“To talk to you. About my son.”

“What about your son?”

“I know that your child isn’t here yet, but when they’re born, perhaps you can understand how much pain it could cause a mother to miss out on their child’s wedding or the process of them expecting their first child. From a mother to a mother—”

“—I’m going to stop you right there.”

You tried to keep your tears of anger in as you thought about Jake’s expression when he told you about his childhood. When you thought about the pain that you could hear in his tone, that you could feel radiating off of him.

“Because a woman who calls herself a mother would never do the things that you did. You stole him from a poor girl who loved him. You lied to her, promising that you would take care of him and love him. And then you turned around and fed him to the wolves." Nostrils flaring and angry tears threatening to fall, you added, "Did you ever even tell him that you loved him?"

“Of course, we did,” she admonished.

“Did you? Did you tell him that you were proud of him? That you loved him no matter what happened?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice even. “Every night my mom told me that she loved me and that she was proud of me. How many times did you tell Jake that, Georgia? How is a child supposed to just know that if you don’t tell them?” Shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath, you turned back to her. “And just so you know, there won’t be a day where Jake doesn’t tell our child that he loves them. Not one.”

Georgia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and pursed her lips together. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, but you didn’t give a shit about her feelings. 

“Did you come here to convince me to talk Jake into speaking to you again? To buy my baby from me? A combination of the two? Does your husband know that you’re here? Is he waiting outside?”

Georgia took another moment to compose herself from your questions. She glanced down at the rings on your finger before meeting your gaze again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Jake selected a woman as . . . outspoken as you,” Georgia stated, adjusting her handbag again. “No, my husband does not know that I’m here. And I’m not here to buy my grandchild. I’m here to try and get through to my son and I’ve realized that the best way to do that would be through you. The woman he married and is having a child of his own with.”

Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Georgia's words.

“I have no interest in having a relationship with you because Jake doesn’t have an interest in it.”

“There’s nothing I can do to persuade you to speak with him about me?” Georgia pressed, an edge of desperation in her tone. 

“No, there’s not.”

“You would deny your child a set of grandparents?”

“I will protect my child from people who hurt their father.”

Forcing yourself to take a breath, you stared down Georgia for a moment. She looked far more pathetic than you knew she was comfortable with. Apparently, she thought that she would just waltz in, and you would agree with her without any pushback.

But she couldn't have been more wrong.

“You know, when Jake told me about his upbringing, I honestly felt a bit of sympathy for you, Georgia. Maybe you were convinced that being a rich housewife to a pathetic little man was a better life than being loved by a poor man. And I’m sure that your husband hasn’t been kind to you over the years.” 

The rage flashed to the surface again as she turned away from you for a moment. 

“But how could you look another woman in the eye and convince her to hand over an innocent baby to a man that you knew would be a horrible father? That you knew would hurt that baby?”

After a moment, you walked past Georgia, who did not move to block your path this time. You opened the door and strode out of there and you didn't dare look back. Trying to gather yourself, you looked up to see Emma and Penny a few steps away from you. 

“Are you okay? We were getting worried," Emma questioned with clear concern.

“Fine. Let’s get going to the Hard Deck,” you stated, already turning towards the parking lot. 

“What happened?” Penny asked, studying your expression. You didn’t reply and just kept marching towards the parking lot until Penny rested a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow down. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s mom walked into the bathroom,” you explained quietly, looking over your shoulder. 

“What?"

“She knew where you were?” Penny asked urgently, looking around with a protective stare. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she encouraged you forward again. “Come on, let’s get going.”

~~~~~

Maverick’s face darkened after you finished with your explanation about what happened at the mall. Grabbing his phone, he got up from the table with a serious expression.

“I’m going to make a call,” he stated firmly. “They can’t stalk you and your child. I don’t care who the hell that they think they are in Texas. That’s not going to fly out here. That’s not going to continue.”

“Who are you calling?” you asked as Maverick walked off. 

“An old contact. I’ll be right back.”

Penny told you to just let Mav make the call as the remaining four of you remained seated at the table. You twisted your engagement ring around your finger nervously, sharing a look with Emma and Bradley, who sat across from you. 

“She didn’t try to hurt me—”

“—Doesn’t matter,” Bradley interjected quickly. “It’s creepy and it’s over the line and it’s going to stop. Now. Just let Mav make his call. He'll handle it.”

“I know,” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “Jake is going to freak out when I tell him.”

“You’re going to tell him right away?”

“I can’t hide it from him. It might take me some time to find the words, but I have to tell him.”

Penny hugged you to her side and rubbed your back with her hand, giving you the maternal support that you really needed in that moment. You sighed and leaned against her, desperately wishing that Jake would be home soon.

“Everything will be alright. We’re going to figure this out.”

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I hope that everything is running smoothly where you are. And that you read this email sooner rather than later. 

Penny and Emma took me to the shops yesterday and when I was trying to leave the bathroom, I ran into your mother. She came up from Texas and she told me that she wanted to talk to me about you. Said something about using me to convince you to talk to her again. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that because you weren’t interested in that. She let me leave after that. 

I don’t want to stress you out or make you feel like you have to do anything when you’re so far away, but I wanted to be honest with you. Mav’s made a few calls and he seems to think that he has a solution. Don’t stress about us, just focus on your mission and coming home safely in one piece. 

We love you, Jake. And we’re safe, we’re fine. And we miss you. 

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~ 

Folding some fresh laundry in Maverick's house a few days later, you looked up when you heard your phone buzz. An unknown number was calling you and despite your hesitation, you answered it. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Honey.”

“Jake?” you whispered out shakily, holding a hand to your mouth. Moving to sit, you tried to calm yourself down and not just simply sob. “How are you calling me?”

“I have my ways,” Jake replied teasingly. Growing more serious, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine, Jake.” 

“I’m so sorry, Honey. She never should have been anywhere near the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” you repeated softly. “She didn’t threaten us. If anyone was threatening anyone, it was me.”

“That’s my wife,” Jake praised, causing you to smile bashfully. “But my father wasn’t there, right? It was just my mother?”

“Yeah. She said that he didn’t know that she was there, and I didn’t see him around.”

“Good. I’ll deal with them when I get home.”

“Okay.” After a moment you asked, “How much longer do you have?”

“Less than a minute. I’m sorry, Honey, I just needed to know that the two of you were okay. They thought that I was having some kind of stroke when I read your email and I managed to convince them to let me call you.”

“At least one good thing came out of the whole shitshow,” you sighed, resting a hand on your bump. “I love—”

You froze when you felt your daughter press her foot against your hand. Jake felt his heart leap into his throat when you cut yourself off and stop talking without a clear reason.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She’s kicking,” you whispered softly.

“What?”

“Jake, she’s kicking. Our daughter is kicking!”

“She’s kicking?”

“Yes, she’s kicking,” you laughed, before your joy dimmed and tears pooled in your eyelids. Sniffling, you croaked out, “I love you so much, Jake. We love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I miss you so fucking much, Honey. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there.”

“Hangman, time’s up,” Jake heard from behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder. 

“I’ve got to go, Honey,” he replied, grinding his jaw to try and stave off the tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Bye, Jake.”

The line went dead, and you slowly placed your phone down. Holding your hand to your mouth, you finally let out your sobs. And about a thousand emotions that you'd tried keeping in ever since Jake was forced to leave you. 

Your daughter was finally kicking, but her father wasn’t here to feel her. And the thought only made you sob harder. 

Back on the carrier, Jake rubbed the tears that leaked from his eyes. 

He missed it. He fucking missed it. He missed his daughter kicking for the first time. He wasn’t there when his mother showed up out of nowhere and accosted you in a public bathroom. He wasn’t going to be there for your baby shower.

Jake had anticipated that deploying while you were heavily pregnant was going to be difficult. But he didn’t realize that it was going to be impossible, killing him slowly from the inside out. 

“Hangman?”

“I’m coming,” Jake called back, clearing his throat. “I’m coming.”

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[xyfanficarchive]

Laios x Fat Reader HCs (reader of nonspecified gender with boobs and pussy)

18+ 😈

First of all. It's been said but. Fat is totally his type. real and factual and canon 100% i stake my life on it

i mean, he's not that superficial. Laios will fall for someone's personality and not their body. but trust, if he's walking down the street and someone attractive catches his attention so much so that all he can do is think "waow.... theyre really hot......" and stare (and he will stare, unsubtly and without shame, like, he'll turn his head as he passes you by and then trip over his own feet or walk into a lamppost or smth) then that person guaranteed has a lil more fat on their body

if youre uncomfotable with your body..... get comfortable. he's a handsy lover. he wants to touch you and feel you. and he's not shy about loving the way you squish under his hands and in his arms

its not even necessarily an erotic thing much of the time, when he feels you up and pokes and prods you (gently) all over; it's a simple pleasure to his brain to feel the warmth and weight of your breast in his open hand, to press your tummy and pinch the fat on your hips between his thumb and fingers, just to watch the supple flesh deform under his touch and bounce back into place. he'll trace up and down your stretch marks because he likes the way the skin texture feels different there, and touch the pads of his fingers to the dimples of cellulite on your butt and thighs just to feel how your skin embraces his fingertips. he can be pretty mindless about it, his hands drifting across your body as you lie together (yes, he uses you as a stim toy)

of course if you hate this kinda treatment that much, he’ll stop. he won’t torment you. but if, say, you ask him to only touch you in ways and places that dont remind you of your fatness too much, he’ll have an intuition that its because of feelings of insecurity whether you say so or not. and it makes him so so sad because all he wants is to show you how wonderful your body is to him, how delightful it is to touch you in all your softness, how the very presence of you squished up next to him is such a comfort that its all he can do to grab at you and pull you closer and closer to him in crushing embrace- there is no part of you that is so disgusting that Laios wouldnt want to explore.

on the topic of insecurity. if youre feeling bad about the way you look, whether its just a bad image day, or if you find out that you gained some weight and have to get new clothes made from the tailor, he will reassure you. but it will not be a tactful and gentle kind of reassurance, he’s not going “noooo baby but youre still so beautiful tho 🥺.” boy is so so delighted to inform you of all the reasons why its GOOD that youre fat. he has like a whole presentation prepared and he’s talking a mile a minute about how he loves that youre not afraid to eat a full days worth of nutritious meals, and how its good to put on weight to crawl the dungeon, about the energy you expend doing all that walking and fighting and the calories it takes to get revived if you die, talking about how you can go longer in the cold before succumbing to hypothermia and longer without food before youre incapacitated by hunger, how having a thick layer of fat means your vital organs are better protected from slashing and stabbing and blunt force damage alike, getting more passionate as he goes on. and by the time your eyes are glassy and ears are fuzzy from all the knowledge he imparted upon you he grabs you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your deltoids, glowering down at you with a look of such intensity that you shrink away, he finishes his rant with a deathly seriousness: “and….. it makes you really sexy, too..!”

and he does think youre so so fucking sexy; congratulations because it genuinely doesnt happen often! ususally he's too busy thinking about monsters and dungeon ecology and how to make his next incursion below more successful.... if you're reading to this point still somehow thinking that by "fat" i mean "exclusively chubby" then don't worry... i mean, yes he will drool over your cute little tummy pooch and your thick thighs, and he daydreams about sucking your full, round boobs - but he also starts sweating the first time he sees the way your breasts sag under your shift, he wants to taste your skin, he wants to leave bite marks on your back rolls, and side rolls, and he wants to dive in the folds of your belly, and when he sees your luscious pubic mound he gets dizzy and lightheaded because all the blood is going to his cock-

he'd happily die suffocating between your thighs

don't feel anxious about the way you smell around him - you don't, at least no more than anyone else after a long day of walking, but if you did, Laios is a known freak and he's totally into that. you'll never forget the first time you found this out; you were enjoying a simple embrace with him before washing up at the end of the day, your arms thrown around his neck as he leaned down and pressed his forehead into your shoulder, inhaling deep a few relaxed breaths before something changed, his body tense underneath you. you almost pulled away to ask what's wrong but - he grabbed you at the elbow and outright manhandled your arm to stop you from pulling away or pinning your arm to your side, and it's then that you realized to your utter mortefaction that he'd stuck his nose in the crook of your arm and was sniffing your armpit. you almost made a fuss asking him what the hell is he doing?!?! except for the fact that chilchuck was over in the corner organizing his pack and marcille was facing the wall combing out her hair in the mirror and neither of them have seemed to notice anything and you would never, never, never live it down from either of them if you were to draw their attention. but ultimately you couldn't help the way your heart softened to your big weirdo man when he finally pulled his face out of your pit, flushed red to his ears, his irises a thin golden ring around his wide dilated pupils, as he breathed out "I dunno why, but it smells so good..."

when he eats you out, he's literally huffing your pussy scent. he takes his time smelling you as he kisses his way down your thighs. and when he's buried in your folds, sometimes it's almost concerning and you think there's something wrong. is he starved for air, can he breathe down there??? (i did say he'd be happy to die there....) no. thats just how into it he is. one time you ask him what it smells like to him, thinking maybe his perception is significantly different, perhaps because of his hormonal profile or something, and he pauses to think for a moment before elaborating: "it smells like, musky and animalic... a little sweet, and kind of funky, like a little sour and salty almost like sweat, it's so great!" maybe not what you expected, but he only sounded more and more giddy about it as he went on.

he can tell roughly where you are in your cycle based on your smell. this comes far enough into your relationship that nothing can surprise you anymore.

he just loves watching you as he fucks you. the way the shockwave of each thrust ripples throughout your whole body, your tits jiggling back and forth with each gasp of pleasure, and the way it sounds so obscene with your wetness spread out over your plush thighs clicking when his hips make contact and when he pulls away. theres no time or space in your head to be self conscious when you're making those sweet uh uh uh uh sounds every time his cock bottoms out inside you. he loves to pull back and watch it happen, the way his shaft glistens with your slick between your pillowy lips, savouring the stroke of delicious pleasure shooting through his nerves as he glides back in, watching as his pubic bone meets your cushiony mons and the way you shake under it all, your body so completely open to him, he could hardly imagine a more erotic sight or a more beautiful person to share this part of him with

thats all i got for now hope u enjoyed <333

[finelinevogue]

love in photos

summary - a sum up of love on tour with a few instagram posts

word count - 1k

pairing - boyfriend!harry x reader

liked by annetwist and 727,937 others

yourinstagram goodbye love on tour, you will always be famous <3🤍

view all 34,767 comments

harryfan1 THESE PHOTO YN HOW ARE YOU ALIVE

harryfan2 can’t believe harry spotted you in the crowd twice🙄

yourinstagram @/harryfan2 ik it’s almost like he loves me or something?!

harrystyles liked this comment

harryfan3 yn. respectfully. pls stop. i am now in tears.

jeffezoff Post some more!

harryfan4 i remember him wanting to hug you so bad yn omg🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

•••••••••••••••••

“Babe…” Harry laughed at you crying.

“What?” You laughed back through your tears.

Harry moved from the end of the couch he was currently sat on and further over to you. He carefully picked you up and sat you on his lap, tucking the plush blanket back over you both.

You held your phone in your hand, running your finger through the photos from Love On Tour.

The tears stemmed from reminiscing of a tour that ended only five days ago. You couldn’t help yourself though. Love On Tour had brought you some of the happiest years and memories of your life and it was just sad it was now all over.

“C’mon, love. You know I’m going to cry if you keep crying.” Harry’s facial hair tickled your cheek with how close you were sitting.

You made sure Harry could see your phone screen as you continued to scroll.

“I know, but, i’m just emotionally reflecting.”

Harry budged your finger out of the way and paused to stop on a photo. He clicked on it and it immediately made you both laugh.

It was a photo of Harry creeping you behind you and scaring you. Your face is one of pure terror and Harry looks like he’s ready to pounce.

“You were such a twat for that.” You chuckled, tapping the screen and holding to make it a live photo.

Harry could be heard yelling and then you let out an ear piercing scream. So many people turned to look at you, probably because you sounded in pain. Then you collapsed to the floor with your head in your hands.

“It was Harryween though.” Harry justified.

You shook your head and continued to scroll. A few of the photos were ones you had screenshotted off your secret Twitter account. Fans constantly snuck to take photos of you and Harry, some of which actually turned out very cute sometimes.

You clicked on one of you and Harry watching Madi Diaz as the opener for Harry, back on his US leg of the tour.

Harry was stood behind you with his arms draped over your shoulders. Your hands held onto his and you both swayed to the music playing. Harry had his baseball cap on, but it didn’t stop fans noticing him.

“That’s a sweet photo.” Harry said, kissing your cheek.

“Mhm. Thank your fans for that one.”

“I always loved watching the opening acts with you.”

“Yeah? Why?” You turned your head to face his.

Harry couldn’t choose where to look, because of how much he loved everything about you. He watched your eyes follow his as they ran between your freckles and lips to your eyes and dimples.

“You always calmed me. Calmed the nerves, before a show. Was always more at peace after spending a few moments with just you.”

You smiled, not needing to say anything more, before leaning up and kissing his soft lips. He had been waiting for you to do so and cupped your cheek gently to guide you the way he wanted to kiss you.

Your cheeks flushed at how much you enjoyed kissing him, but you had to pull away before anything got too heated. Tonight you just wanted calm.

After getting back to your photos, you and Harry decided it might be fun to feed the fans and just post lots of content from tour - especially backstage.

liked by jeffezoff and 977,877 others

yourinstagram i’ve decided love on tour isn’t over until i stop posting hslot content. so here is a tiny instagram dump of some backstage shenanigans. we have h putting on his rings. a couple photos of me and h (tehe). and a photo of h that he sent me that i thought you might all like. 🫶✨🌙

view all 59,767 comments

harryfan1 NO YOU DIDN’T OMG QUEEN YN

harryfan2 this is why yn is harrys best girlfriend

harrystyles You’re trouble, you.

yourinstagram @/harrystyles why are you using punctuation like that?

harryfan3 i adore their relationship so much omg

harryfan4 the drought is un-droughting thanks to our saviour miss yn

••••••••••

“BABE!” Harry shouted.

“Yes?” You said sheepishly, hiding under the bed sheets as Harry stormed into the room with a smirk on his face.

He shook his head before, rising to stand on the mattress and loom over you.

“You are…”

“Amazing? Perfect? Beautiful?” You filled in the blanks for him, trying to get out of this silly situation.

“Well, obviously.” Harry rolled his eyes and mumbled quietly under his breath. “That photo is trending worldwide.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lifting the sheets higher over your head with a giggle.

In reality you knew exactly what photo he was on about because you had only posted it twenty minutes ago. It was impressive it was already worldwide trending.

A shirtless photo of Harry was just what the world needed during this time of crisis - a.k.a. the post tour blues.

“Oh, no? Really?” He acted along.

“Maybe you could recreate it?”

“Oh, you’d love that wouldn’t you.”

Harry knelt down on the mattress and then proceeded to flop on top of you. You made a noise as he did and laughed as you struggled to regain the breath he had just winded out of you.

“Harrryy..” You laughed in complaint.

“That’s the last time I send you a shirtless picture.”

“No!”

liked by gemmastyles and 797,877 others

yourinstagram here’s another daily hslot dump. unfortunately this one does not contain any shirtless photos of harry :(

view all 29,837 comments

harryfan1 SHES SO REAL

harryfan2 this is everything i want this so bad

annetwist Lovely photos❤️

harris_reed My baby angels

harrystyles I love you🩷

[nadvs]

　　🐚　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 dark clouds ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

summary every storm reminds rafe of the worst night of his life. you’re there to help when his thoughts get too loud.

content warning mentions of parent’s death

this is a blurb in the home before dark universe, inspired by this ask!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You’ve never checked the weather forecast as much as you do now that you’re with Rafe.

Ever since the first night he stayed at your house to keep you safe from your ex, when he admitted to you how much he hated the drumming rain and rolling thunder outside, you’ve been hyperaware of every storm coming your way.

For your own heart’s sake, you try not to imagine him as the boy he was the night he lost his mother. But every so often, when you meet his eyes or see his smile, you can’t help but think about his lost innocence. And you’d do anything to keep him from having to think about it, too.

When a storm threatens to roll in on a Saturday night late into the summer, you ask your boyfriend if you can get off the island together, book a hotel room and experience what the mainland has to offer.

The hotel room is large, wide windows offering a view of the city skyline, a drastic change from the sleepy beach town you’re both so used to.

Rafe circles his arms around you as he stands behind you, dipping his head to press his lips against your cheek.

You notice the dark clouds settled behind the setting sun and hope he doesn’t notice them, too. You had hoped you’d be far away enough to escape the storm.

“Room service for dinner?” you offer, wondering how you can shut the blinds without rousing suspicion.

“We can go out,” he mumbles.

“I think I want to stay in,” you say.

“What?” he says. “You don’t want to go into the city?”

“No,” you say. You turn in his arms, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Let’s be lazy tonight.”

Rafe’s blue eyes glint with comfort, his lips curling into a smile. He never knew he could smile this much with somebody until you came back into his life.

“Sure,” he says.

You grin, gently tapping a finger against his dimple like you always do, and head to grab the hotel menu.

You’re seated on the bed together, down to your pajamas, eating and watching tv. You purposely turned it up loud in case the thunder starts rumbling.

Eventually, it gets late enough that you both start dozing off. You get ready for bed and turn off the tv. It allows in the sound of raindrops pelting the glass.

Only one of the nightstand lamps are still on, casting a gentle glow into the room, and you stand to pull the blinds closed. When you settle back onto the cushioned bed, you notice Rafe’s gaze on the covered window.

He looks at you, lips thinning, lying across from you.

“Is it gonna get bad?” he asks, a thin edge of anxiety in his tone. You look down, ashamed you didn’t find a place far enough to avoid the passing storm.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t hit here,” you say softly.

Rafe can tell now that this wasn’t a spontaneous date idea.

“Is that why we’re here?” he asks. You give him a sad smile, nodding, silently admitting it.

Rafe has lived through years of neglect, years of fighting for attention any and every way he knew how. But you give him care and love and consideration freely, abundantly. It never ceases to strike his heart with a heat he’s still not used to.

And beneath the ache of anticipating the storm is a sense of hope that he’ll be okay if you’re around, distracting him.

“We can turn the tv back on and I’ll talk until you fall asleep, okay?” you offer.

Rafe’s brows pinch in worry, his head sunk into the pillow. He realizes this is why you didn’t want to go out for dinner, either. You wanted to keep him inside.

His big hand drags down your arm, stopping when he reaches your hand. You watch him lift your hand, kissing your fingers, closing his eyes. He’s still getting accustomed to someone thinking about him, about the pain he carries every day.

“Okay,” he says.

You turn on the tv, the sound of informercials spilling out of the speakers, and settle across from him again.

You stroke his cheek, brushing away his hair, feeling his sun-kissed skin, as you begin to ramble about what you can do tomorrow morning when it’s nice out.

Over the sound of the tv and your voice, a loud crack of thunder booms outside. You watch him wince, his forehead crinkling, and it makes your heart twist in pain.

“It’ll pass,” you promise quietly, recalling the forecast you read on your phone before you got ready for bed. “By midnight, it’s supposed to be over. We only have an hour.”

“I always had to do this alone,” he says, voice wavering.

“You never will again, okay?” you whisper. “Turn around.”

Rafe obeys, and when he feels your body curl against his, your arm tight around his torso, your cheek pressed against his back, he’s sure he’s never felt safer during the flashbacks that storms put him through.

You continue to whisper about anything you can think of, squeezing his firm, warm body tightly.

To Rafe, it’s like he reverts to being the boy who was in the car every time the weather gets this bad, turning into a whimpering mess, but right now, that boy isn’t crying alone in the backseat. He’s being hugged. Protected.

Because that’s what you do. You keep him safe in your own way. You keep the demons at bay. The ugly memories can’t get to him when he’s being held like this.

“I promise it’ll be over soon,” you whisper to him when he starts to tremble. You can feel his heart thumping against your palm. “And we’ll fall asleep and when we wake up, it’ll be sunny. We can go on a walk. We can get something to eat. This will be in the past.”

Rafe raises your hand again to kiss your fingers, and you can feel the wetness from tears on his pillow. You squeeze against him even tighter, feeling guilty that you’re not doing a better job.

Until he speaks.

“You don’t know how glad I am to have you,” he mumbles.

You nod against him, nuzzling against his back.

“So, I’m helping?” you ask quietly. He breathes a chuckle, kissing your fingers again.

“You are,” Rafe says. “Keep talking about tomorrow.”

You do. You talk and talk and talk until he falls asleep, his grip on your hand weakening. As you shut your eyes, you swear to yourself that you won’t ever allow him to be alone when a storm like this comes in.

He protects you in so many ways, so doing this for him is the best way you can show just how much you love him. Because you truly adore him. Every single piece of him, everything that makes him him.

When Rafe wakes up the next morning, still in your arms, he realizes just how crucial you are to him. You’re not just important, but a necessity, an inevitable need. And he can only hope that you depend on him just as much.

Once you stir awake, he kisses your fingers again and again, earning the sounds of your sweet laughter, both of you looking forward to the day.