#dude you’re avoiding the question

[cheers-to-you-th]

Winner Takes it All

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: Friends to lovers, angst, humor, fluff Warnings: very suggestive (MDNI), seft-doubt, idiocy, self indulgent nerdiness Word count: 17k

Part two

Summary: It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore. The question is, why won't he fuck you?!

or

Your journey of attempting to seduce your friend, Kim Mingyu

ty my pookies @supi-wupi and @gyubakeries for betaing ilysm y'all are literally the best

It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh, but if there's one thing everyone on campus knows, it's that he’s a good fuck. It's not like he has no standards, he just isn’t shy about his life, and with his looks, you wouldn’t be either. He wears the title like a badge of honor, girls practically tripping over themselves to sleep with him at every chance. So yeah, it's no secret that Kim Mingyu appreciates and indulges in one night stands, random hookups, and having an all around good time. The question is, why on earth won’t he sleep with you?

You first brought it up one night during a study session at his apartment that had turned into beer and complaining about life. He was your friend, you consider yourself to be pretty close. You figured, he’s so open about his sex life, why can’t you be? (and you were maybe a few cans too deep) He was talking about how one of the girls he’d hooked up with recently wouldn’t leave him alone even though he’d clearly told her it was a one time thing.

“God, I haven’t been fucked good in so long” You groan dramatically as he chokes on his beer. “Like, seriously, I feel like a fucking celibate. No shame on celibates, just not my thing.”

At that he snorts, “I’m sure I know plenty of people who wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

You roll your eyes, stretching your legs across his lap like you always do when you're a little tipsy and annoyed. “Yeah, but I’m not trying to settle for just anyone. I want to be fucked well, not just… you know, awkward thrusts and two minutes of missionary while some dude tries to make me come with, like, hope and vibes.”

Mingyu laughs—big and loud, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your chest feel tight for no reason you’ll admit out loud. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” you say, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You’ve got this reputation, right? Campus Casanova, professional heartbreaker, dick of the year—”

“Thank you,” he says with a flourish.

“—so why haven’t I benefited from that? I have a declaration.” You raise your hand dramatically and point at him, “You are the chosen one. This is my most desperate hour. Fuck me, Kim Mingyu, you’re my only hope.”

Mingyu snorts so hard he actually wheezes, pressing a hand to his chest like your words physically knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just—did you Star Wars me into asking for sex?”

You grin, a little smug, a little unhinged, and blame the alcohol and the way he’s looking at you now—eyes wide but amused, lips parted around the beginning of a smile that doesn’t reach his usual cocky level. He’s… surprised. And not laughing at you. Just surprised.

“I’m being resourceful,” you say, lifting your beer in a mock toast. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to fuck their hot friend?”

“So you think I’m hot?” he teases, and you blame the alcohol for how you think you see something deeper in his eyes.

You snort. “Mingyu, that’s the least controversial opinion I’ve ever had.”

Mingyu throws his head back, groaning like you’ve just inflicted pain instead of flattery. “God, don’t say stuff like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he says, brushing your leg off his lap playfully and standing to grab another beer. “It’s that I like being friends with you, and hearing you say shit like that makes it dangerous.”

You blink. “Dangerous how?”

He shrugs, cracking open the can and avoiding your gaze in a way that’s suspiciously casual. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, but your drunk brain has terrible ideas. I like us the way we are.”

You narrow your eyes. “So you won’t sleep with me?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’.

“Even if I say please?” You say, looking up at him innocently.

“You look like a tarsier.” He deadpans.

You scoff. “Wow. I’m offended. Rejected and mocked?”

He leans against the kitchen counter and grins, annoyingly charming and smug. “Consider it a compliment. You're one of the few people I don't want to ruin with my ‘dick of the year’.”

You toss a pillow at him. “I’ll have you know I only asked because I was trying to solve a very real personal crisis.”

“Well, this crisis,” he says, catching the pillow and throwing it back, “will not be solved with me. I’m flattered. Really. But nah.”

You sit there for a beat, squinting at him like you’re trying to find the crack in his logic. “Is this, like, a challenge? Are you saying I’m not good enough for your stupid dick?”

He snorts. “I’m saying you’re too good. Too funny. Too smart. And my friend whom I greatly value.”

“Oh my god, stop trying to reject me nicely” you groan, flopping dramatically back onto the couch.

“I’m not trying,” he says with a wink. “It’s just my natural charm.”

You pout, staring at the ceiling, a wicked little idea already forming. “Fine. Reject me. I see how it is.” You sigh dramatically then look at him. “But don’t think this is over.”

“Oh really?” he says, amused.

You glance at him sideways, eyes sharp. “You’ll break eventually. Everyone does.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just patient,” you sing, reaching for your beer.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he walks back over. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

If he thinks you’re going to drop it, he clearly doesn’t know you as well as he thought.

Because the war has begun.

Let the games begin.

You’ve never put this much thought into what hoodie to wear.

It’s not like you’re trying to look good, exactly. That would be obvious. But you’re also not trying to look bad. There’s a difference between “I woke up like this” and “I look like I’ve been dragged backward through laundry day.” It’s a delicate balance. Especially when you’re hiding very expensive, very pretty lingerie under said hoodie.

Tonight is movie night—your usual Friday plan. Mingyu had texted you earlier:

«giant (dick [allegedly])» u better not bring any weird artsy film again

«giant (dick [allegedly])» we’re watching something where things explode

«giant (dick [allegedly])» also i have snacks this time. good ones. not like your off-brand cheetos

You’d sent back a very dignified “rude” and a middle finger emoji. Now you’re standing in front of your mirror, trying to figure out if this hoodie makes you look effortlessly hot or just… like you’re trying too hard to be effortless.

“Jesus,” you mutter, adjusting the zipper just low enough to maybe give him a hint. A taste. Not enough to look desperate, but enough to make him wonder.

For the record, this isn’t about sleeping with him anymore (although it’s not off the table). It’s about principle. About honor. You’re great. You’re hot. You’re smart and funny and flexible—both emotionally and physically. You’ve done yoga three times this week just in case. He should be begging.

You show up with popcorn, a smug smile, and your hoodie unzipped just enough to showcase a tasteful amount of lace.

He opens the door with a soda in hand, already grinning. “Took you long enough—are you seriously wearing that?”

You glance down. “This is a perfectly acceptable outfit for movie night.”

Mingyu narrows his eyes at you, suspicious. “You hate that hoodie. You said it made you look like a sad librarian.”

“I’ve had a change of heart,” you say breezily, pushing past him into the apartment. He follows, still watching you like you just switched exam answers last minute. “Okay, but like… are you trying to seduce me with snack food? Because if so, it’s working.”

You toss the popcorn onto the coffee table. “Mingyu, please. If I wanted to seduce you, you’d already be in my bed.”

He chokes on his soda. “What—excuse me—how’d that work out for you last time?”

You plop onto the couch, flipping him off. He’s still staring at you as he joins you, only this time there’s a tiny crease in his brow. Like he’s thinking about it.

Excellent.

The movie starts. Some kind of loud, poorly lit action flick that you pretend to watch. Mostly, you’re watching him. He’s in his usual hoodie and sweatpants, one hand in the popcorn, the other resting on the back of the couch like he owns the place (which, I mean, he does, since it is his apartment). When he leans back and stretches out his legs, you mirror him, thigh brushing his intentionally. Five minutes later, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Comfy?” he asks, not looking at you.

“Mmm,” you hum. “Your shoulder’s surprisingly sturdy for someone with the maturity of a middle school boy.”

“That’s rich, coming from someone who once cried during Shrek 2.”

“That scene with the giant gingerbread man is emotional, okay?”

He snorts, and you feel the vibration in your cheek against his hoodie. His arm shifts a little. Not around you. But closer.

Now is the time.

You lift your head, just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes and just enough that your hoodie slides down a tiny bit, giving him the wonderful view of the pretty lace set. Not enough that you’re exposed, but not too little that he doesn’t know what it is. Perfect.

He glances down.

Pauses.

Then promptly throws a piece of popcorn at your face.

“Nice try,” he says, grinning wide.

You gasp. “Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says smugly. “And I’m flattered, really. But I’m not falling for the push-up bra and smolder look.”

You cross your arms. “How do you know it’s a push-up bra?”

“Because you told me last month that lace makes you itchy and underwire is the devil. You’ve only ever suffered for fashion when you’re trying to make a point.”

“…damn it.”

Mingyu laughs again, genuinely delighted, and tosses another popcorn piece at your hoodie. “Good effort, though. Strong opening move.”

You sigh, dramatically. “Fuck you. This is going to be harder than I thought.”

“Oh, much harder,” he says, winking.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Not that way, don’t even—” “I didn’t say anything!” You defend yourself. “You were thinking it!” You flop back against the couch. “This is war.” He just grins, stretching his arm casually across the couch again—so close, almost around you, but not quite. “Bring it on.”

You do not, in fact, bring it on. Not immediately.

Because for the next forty-five minutes, you're watching a bunch of buff guys with buzzcuts yell at each other over a glowing briefcase. It's not your genre. It's barely anyone’s genre, but Mingyu’s watching with the concentration of someone trying to defuse a bomb.

You glance at him.

Then at your hoodie.

Then back at him.

Okay, maybe not war. Not yet. Maybe… espionage. Quiet. Tactical. Strategic use of cleavage. You shift in your seat slightly, just enough that your leg presses into his a little more. Not obnoxiously. Just… available. You exhale slowly and lean back, stretching your arms overhead in a motion that’s meant to look natural and only slightly like a lingerie commercial.

Mingyu doesn’t react.

You risk a glance. He’s got popcorn in his mouth and a blank, blissed-out expression like he’s communing with the gods of artificial cheese dust. He doesn’t even notice your stretch. You could probably flash him outright and he’d still be thinking about Bruce Willis. You glare at him. He senses it, somehow, because without looking away from the screen, he mutters, “If you’re still trying to seduce me, your timing’s shit. This is the best part.” “This is the part where they blow up another building.” “Exactly.” You’re going to kill him.

Fine. So he’s immune to passive cleavage and casual stretching. You can work with that. You’ve got depth. Range. A highly specific collection of lingerie, and at least three more strategies.

Phase two begins approximately five minutes after his third “this is the best part” comment, when one of the action guys says something stupid enough that even he winces. You seize the moment.

“You know,” you say, “I could write better dialogue in my sleep.”

Mingyu hums. “Mmhm.”

“I’m serious. Give me a gun and a reason to be angry and I’m unstoppable.”

“You literally cried when you hit your knee on my coffee table last week.”

“I thought it broke my patella!”

“It’s not even sharp!”

“It bruised like a bitch!”

He glances at your legs. “So fragile. So elegant.” You ignore the fact that your legs are currently draped half across his lap.

“That’s my point,” you say. “I’m deceptively dangerous. Like a swan.”

He looks at you skeptically. “Pardon?”

“Swan,” you repeat. “All grace and feathers up top, but with murderous feet underneath. You ever see a swan fight? Terrifying.”

“I have literally never thought about swans that way.”

“Well, now you will. I’m a swan. I could absolutely take out a bad guy.”

“You couldn’t even take out the spider in my bathroom.” He says with a raised brow.

“That spider leapt! I wasn’t expecting aerial combat!”

Mingyu breaks, laughing so hard he nearly spills the popcorn. His head drops back on the couch and he grins at the ceiling like he’s never been more amused. You let yourself look at him for a second too long—his dimples, the way his throat moves when he swallows his laugh, the tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes that only shows up when he’s actually, genuinely happy.

You look at him, laughing like that, and you briefly forget your entire mission. Because really, how is anyone supposed to function with that kind of face beaming at them? It should be illegal. At least mildly regulated. But then he shifts, still grinning, and pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth like he didn’t just survive a verbal swan-based assassination attempt—and you remember. This is war. And the enemy is smug.

“If you want me, you’re gonna have to compete with explosives and daddy issues.” He says with an annoying smirk.

You make a strangled noise of disbelief. “Are you seriously picking emotionally stunted action men over me?”

“Right now?” he says, finally turning to you with the kind of grin that makes you want to punch him and kiss him simultaneously. “Yeah. They’ve got car chases. You’ve got passive-aggressive lingerie.”

You clutch a couch pillow to your chest and groan into it. “You are the worst.”

“And yet,” he says smugly, “you keep coming back.”

“Because I’m determined,” you mumble into the cushion. “Because this is important. Because—”

“You want me to fuck you,” he supplies, chipper.

You scowl, crossing your arms. “God, you make it sound so crass. I was gonna say ‘make sweet, passionate love.’”

He snorts. “No, you weren’t.”

“I might’ve,” you mutter. “If you’d given me a chance.”

He finally glances at you, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly amused way of his. “And what part of this movie made you horny? The car explosion or the guy bleeding out in a warehouse?”

“Neither,” you say, leaning in, “You. You’re the problem.”

Mingyu doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shift. Just stares you down with that maddening calm. “You know it’s not happening.”

You grin, wicked. “Yet.”

“Ever.”

You click your tongue. “You say that like I’m not currently wearing lingerie under this hoodie.”

He raises his eyebrow, no reaction again—just calm, smug, frustratingly unbothered Mingyu.

You narrow your eyes. “God, you’re annoying.”

“And yet here you are, trying to seduce me with popcorn and cleavage.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t escalate.”

He leans back, stretches his arm along the back of the couch—close, but not touching you. “You can escalate all you want, babe. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna break.”

You inhale. Slow. Calculating.

Then, deadpan: “Would it help if I said I’ve been told my head game is life-changing?”

Mingyu barks out a laugh. “Jesus.”

You rest your chin on your hand, watching him with faux-innocence. “I’m just saying. Could be a cultural experience.”

“I’m not a tourist,” he says, tone lazy. “And you’re not a destination.”

“Ooh, poetic,” you say. “I’ll quote that in my memoir. Right after the chapter titled How I Sucked Off My Hot Friend.”

He shakes his head, laughing now, that deep, quiet kind that makes your stomach twist. “You’re so dramatic.”

You groan, flopping sideways against the couch like a wilted plant. “How are you immune to this? Are you secretly a monk?”

“I just have restraint,” he says with a smug little smile. “Unlike some people.”

“You didn’t seem very restrained when Jiwon from your stats class was crawling into your lap at that party last week.”

He shrugs, finally glancing at you, eyes gleaming. “She’s not my friend.”

The implication hits you like a pillow to the face. “Oh my god, is this like a ‘you can’t touch this’ thing?”

Mingyu’s grin stretches wider. “Exactly. I don’t mix friendship and… that.”

You roll your eyes, but inwardly, something twists—a little sting, a little hope. “Fine. So I’m your friend. The one you don’t want to ruin.”

“Yup.”

“Is that your nice way of saying I’m off-limits?”

“Maybe,” he says, voice softening just a bit.

You stare at him, the TV noise fading into the background as your mind races. The war you thought you started suddenly feels a lot less like a game.

“You know,” you say slowly, “this friend zone is starting to look more like a fortress.”

Mingyu laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… good luck storming the castle.”

You lean back, eyes locked on his, the challenge clear. “Watch me.”

“One day,” he says, hands behind his head now, “you’re gonna look back and realize all these attempts just made me stronger.”

“Oh, is that what you think this is?” you say, poking his shin. “A training montage?”

He grins. “Every hero has one.”

“Hero?” You scoff again. “I’m the hero. You’re the idiot refusing to sleep with me.”

“I’m the wise guardian mentor figure,” he says seriously. “Keeping you from making a mistake you’d regret.”

“Okay Obi-Wan,” you mutter.

He snorts. You’re not sure if you want to strangle him or crawl into his lap and see if the ‘not falling for it’ act cracks when you’re straddling him. Probably both.

Instead, you smirk. “Fine,” you say, brushing popcorn crumbs off your lap and standing with an exaggerated stretch. “I guess I’ll just have to find someone else to help me with my desperate need for intimacy.”

Mingyu doesn’t move, but his eyes follow you as you walk toward the kitchen.

“Make sure he knows how to deal with aerial spiders,” he calls lazily.

“I’ll add it to the checklist,” you shoot back.

You open the fridge. Your reflection in the glass looks like someone who could get laid tonight if only the object of their desire wasn't annoyingly principled and hot about it.

Mingyu’s voice cuts through your thoughts, still from the couch.

“Don’t think I’m letting you win.”

You smile to yourself.

“Who said I was playing fair?”

Third time’s the charm. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you lean over Kim Mingyu’s kitchen counter with your chin propped on your palm, legs crossed just so, pretending you’re not hyper-aware of how the hem of your skirt is riding up. It’s Thursday, and he’s cooking. Cooking. Like the audacity of this man, to be hot, funny, emotionally intelligent and able to make dinner from scratch with forearms flexing every time he stirs something. It’s a casual thing. He’d invited you over because you “looked like you hadn’t eaten a real meal in days” after you mentioned surviving on instant noodles and Red Bull. Apparently, that meant he’d take it upon himself to feed you. Like some kind of boyfriend.

Which he is not.

Because he still won’t fuck you (amongst other things).

So tonight, you’ve decided to bring out the big guns: flirting in domesticity. The sacred land of couples and casual touches. If movie night was a game of checkers, this is chess. Strategic. Psychological. Wearing an innocent skirt and a soft sweater because you could be the kind of girl he brings home for the night—or for life. Who’s to say?

He moves around the kitchen like he belongs there, wooden spoon in hand, hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back absently with his wrist, and you have to resist the urge to sigh like a romcom extra watching her crush.

“You know,” you say, lightly kicking your heel against the cabinet beneath you. “You’re dangerously close to wife material right now.”

Mingyu doesn’t look up, just chuckles as he stirs the sauce. “Is that a compliment or a threat?”

“Depends. You planning on making dessert too?”

He does look up then—eyes gleaming with amusement, the curve of his mouth smug. “What, you trying to lock me down with a ring already?”

You hum, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “I’m just saying, most guys don’t cook for their friends. At least not the ones who claim they’re ‘dangerous’ to sleep with.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “Are we back on this again?”

“We never left,” you say sweetly, hopping off the counter and sauntering over to where he’s plating pasta like some Food Network god. You lean against the island, arms folded, watching him with interest. “So what’s the deal? You’re clearly into me.”

“Am I?”

“Don’t play dumb. You keep inviting me over. You call me cute. You literally offered to drive me across town last week just so I wouldn’t have to take the bus.”

“I’m a good friend,” he says, placing the plates on the counter with an infuriating smile. “Ever think of that?”

“Nope. I don’t buy it.” You take a step closer, close enough to brush his arm with yours. “You’re too good a friend. Suspiciously good. Like you’re overcompensating for wanting to see me naked.”

He huffs a laugh, but you see the way his ears go pink. Just a little. Just enough.

You lean in slightly, lowering your voice like you’re telling a secret. “You ever think maybe we’d be better unclothed friends?”

“Bold of you to say while I’m feeding you,” he mutters, half amused, half exasperated.

You grin. “It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me. Just… expand our friendship. Horizontally.”

He snorts, nearly drops a fork. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

There’s a beat. You both go still. He turns to face you fully now, arms crossed, leaning back against the counter. He studies you for a moment—really studies you. It’s the kind of look that might’ve made you flinch a month ago, but now? Now it just makes your blood buzz.

Then he says, very calmly, “I’m not sleeping with you.”

You blink. “Still?”

“Still.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like you.”

“That’s why people usually fuck.”

“Correction: that’s why other people fuck. I like us. I like this. I don’t want this to change.”

You tilt your head, stepping even closer so your bodies nearly touch. “Come on, just one time!”

He breathes out a soft laugh, and god, he looks tired. Like fighting this off is actual work.

Then he raises a hand and gently flicks your forehead.

You reel back. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Bad,” he says, like you’re a misbehaving cat. “No seducing me while I’m cooking.”

You gape at him, one hand still protectively covering your forehead. “You flicked me?”

“It was a gentle rebuke.”

“You flicked me!”

He walks past you, grabbing utensils and dramatically setting the table like you haven’t just offered him your entire body on a very emotional platter.

“You’re lucky this food is good,” you grumble, slinking over to your chair.

“You’re lucky I haven’t banned you from my kitchen.”

“Oh, you’d miss me too much.”

He smiles and doesn’t argue.

And when you sit down across from him, he places a full glass of wine in front of you with a wink.

“Eat up,” he says. “Gotta keep you strong for all that plotting.”

You take a sip, narrowing your eyes. “You’re going down, Kim Mingyu.”

He toasts his own glass. “Bring it.”

Fourth time’s not just the charm—it’s the full fucking spellbook. You're done playing fair. Sweet? Gone. Subtle? Never heard of her. Strategic? Please. It’s time for full-on seduction sorcery (as if you’d been any of those things before). Tonight, you're bringing the heat.

And you know exactly how to do it: co-op gaming night.

The plan is simple. Mingyu invited you over to try some co-op zombie survival game he swears by, the kind that involves “teamwork and trust,” which you immediately translated as “an excuse to flirt while fake-dying in his lap.” He doesn’t know it yet, but this is your boss level. The moment you either break him… or break yourself trying.

You show up with takeout, lip gloss, and your tiniest pair of shorts, the kind that should be illegal by public decency standards. You pair it with a t-shirt that says “Save a Horse, Ride a Homie” and pretend like you totally forgot how it looked when you got dressed.

He stares at you. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Then snorts, voice a little rough, “That shirt is… something.”

You grin, pushing past him. “It’s educational.”

Mingyu groans behind you. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“That’s the goal, sweetheart.”

You settle in on the couch, already syncing up controllers. He hands you yours with a suspicious glance.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he says, eyes narrowing. “That means you’re up to something.”

“Wrong,��� you say, batting your lashes. “I’m just here to kill zombies and look cute.”

“You’re doing great at one of those.”

You smirk. “Wait ‘til you see my aim.”

The game starts. It’s fast-paced, messy, full of chaotic yelling and pixelated blood. You scream when a zombie jumps out, grabbing his arm without thinking—and then don’t let go. He’s warm. Solid. Way too close to not be touched.

“Jesus,” he mutters, glancing down at where you’re gripping his bicep. “You okay there?”

“I need moral support,” you say, innocently. “This game is stressful. I’m fragile.”

“You’re the least fragile person I’ve ever met.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

You squeeze his arm a little harder and he doesn't shake you off. In fact, he seems very… still. Eyes on the screen. Jaw tight. Perfect.

You lean your head against his shoulder. “You smell really nice,” you murmur.

Mingyu coughs. “I—what?”

“You smell like laundry and testosterone. It’s comforting.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t answer, but his shoulder shifts beneath your cheek—tense, like you’re a particularly tricky level of self-control he’s struggling to beat. The match ends. You survive. Barely. You celebrate by dramatically flopping across his lap, legs hanging off the couch, head tilted back against his thigh.

“I need a reward,” you say, eyes fluttering closed.

“For what? Dying twice and screaming every time something moved?”

“For being adorable under pressure.”

“You’re insufferable.”

You crack one eye open. “And yet you haven’t moved me.”

“I don’t want to throw out my back.”

You roll over just enough to look up at him from his lap, your cheek pressed against his thigh, hair fanned out over his legs. “Do I make you nervous, Mingyu?”

He meets your gaze. Doesn’t flinch. Just raises a single, challenging brow.

“No,” he says. “You make me tired.”

You laugh, breathless and fond. “Liar.”

He sighs, not quite annoyed. More like… resigned. His hand hovers, then lands lightly on your head—just a little pat, soft and careful. You close your eyes, heart thudding a little too loud.

“Still not fucking you,” he says after a beat, fingers curling once in your hair before pulling away.

You groan, rolling dramatically off his lap. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

He shrugs, smug as hell. “I’m just helping build your character.”

You sit up, shoving a controller into his hands. “Boring. But if I win the next round, you owe me a kiss.”

Mingyu barks a laugh. “A kiss? What happened to subtlety?”

“It died,” you say cheerfully, “like my character did last round.”

He stares at you. And then—God help you—he nods.

“Fine,” he says. “One kiss. If you win.”

You freeze. “Wait, really?”

“Don’t look so surprised.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re letting me think I have a chance.”

“No,” he says, already choosing his loadout, “I’m just confident you’ll choke.”

Your heart stumbles. Your fingers tighten on the controller. “Jokes on you, I have very good control over my gag reflex.” You say with a smirk, prompting an eye roll.

He doesn’t get it yet.

He’s already lost.

Because even if you lose the game—you’re still getting that kiss.

One way or another.

Let the real final boss fight begin.

You lose.

Of course you do.

You die seven times, run directly into a trap once, and at one point, accidentally shoot Mingyu in the back with your pixelated shotgun.

“I told you to watch your six,” he says, tossing his controller onto the table with a grin that is far too pleased with itself.

“I don’t even know what that means!” you cry, slumping sideways on the couch in defeat. “Do I have a six?”

Mingyu stretches, flexing his arms like a smug asshole who just conquered a small country. “It means behind you, rookie.”

“I hate military slang. And you. Mostly you.”

“You love me,” he says, nudging your knee with his own. “Even if I’m a sore winner.”

You scowl. “You're the smuggest winner. Obnoxious. The worst.”

“You’re stalling,” he says, leaning back against the cushions. “You lost. You know what that means.”

“Yeah, yeah, no kiss for me.” You say with a pout, throwing a pillow at him.

“Better luck next time,” he says with a wink, catching the pillow and chucking it right back.

It hits you in the stomach, and you collapse in defeat again. “I don’t know how someone so hot can also be so emotionally bankrupt.”

He laughs—loud and free and unfairly handsome. “Don’t act like I haven’t given you things.”

You give him a look. “Name one.”

“Entertainment. Dinner. Valuable zombie combat skills. My lap.”

“That last one was mine.”

“You invaded, actually. Like a feral cat.”

You stick your tongue out at him as he stretches out across the couch, laughing.

You let him win this time because you know in the end, you’ll end up on top (or under, really).

Seungcheol, like always, is hosting a party in honor of who-knows-what doing something or another. You don’t care, all you care about is that this means proximity. Opportunity. A chance to look like you belong in someone else’s fantasy. Preferably Mingyu’s. You stand in the middle of your room, surrounded by the wreckage of indecision: clothing draped over every surface, shoes like fallen soldiers at your feet. Your bed is a graveyard of rejects—too casual, too clingy, too try-hard. You’ve already put on three different outfits and hated them all in the time it took to blink, making your room smell faintly of perfume and self-doubt.

You finally find a dress, hot but not desperate, showing just enough skin to tease but not too much. You twist, checking every angle. It works. It works so well you almost feel sorry for him. You sit at your vanity to do your makeup, something soft around the eyes, shimmer at the inner corners, lip gloss just on the verge of sticky. You want to look glowy. So touchable yet untouchable. Expensive.

Your earrings are simple but deliberate, the kind that draws just enough attention when you tuck your hair behind your ear. And you will. At least twice. Especially if he’s looking. Your perfume is the last step. It’s warm—vanilla and skin and something that lingers. You spritz your wrists, the back of your knees. You’ve read that trick somewhere and it’s never failed you.

You glance at your phone. You’re late.

Of course, that’s part of the plan.

You take one last look in the mirror. You look like someone who doesn’t get ignored. You look like someone who knows exactly what kind of power she’s playing with. You smooth your dress, grab your bag, and smile.

“Let’s see how long he lasts.”

The party is already loud when you get there. Not in the chaotic, packed-club way. It’s a loft space that smells like prosecco and floor polish, all open brick and fairy lights strung across beams. The music is low enough to talk over, the people pretty enough to pretend they don’t notice how much they’re being watched.

You arrive just late enough to make an entrance. It’s deliberate, the way you step in. The way you give yourself a second to adjust your dress, smooth your hair, tilt your chin like you’ve just been complimented. Someone—probably Soonyoung, the agent of all poor decisions—suggests drinking games which have already snowballed into over ten people crammed into a too-small living room playing a game that’s half charades, half yelling, and all drinking.

You’re winning. Not the game—just in general.

Because you’ve got Mingyu sandwiched between you and the arm of the couch, his thigh warm against yours, a drink in your hand, and an entire audience to witness the masterpiece that is your ongoing campaign to ruin him.

You lean over, breath brushing his ear. “If you make me guess ‘Shrek’ one more time, I swear I’ll crawl into your lap.”

He doesn’t flinch. Just sips his beer. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is,” you whisper. “I’ve been told I run hot.”

“I’ve been told you run your mouth.”

You grin. “Still not a no.”

“Still not a yes.”

From across the room, Seungkwan yells, “Your team is losing. Stop trying to molest Mingyu.”

You wave him off. “I’m multitasking.”

Mingyu takes another sip, casual. “You’re losing both tasks.”

You gasp. “Oh, wow. Now you’re trash-talking?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You wound me.” You clutch your chest dramatically, sliding a little closer until your legs are nearly tangled with his. “I’m just a girl. Sitting next to a boy. Asking him to blow my back out.”

He tilts his head lazily, looking entirely unbothered. “And I’m just a boy. Sitting next to a walking HR violation.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s rich coming from a man whose thighs are currently weaponized.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response, just shifts slightly away, like he’s drawing some imaginary line you’ll absolutely ignore. A new round starts. Someone yells, someone else starts gesturing wildly. You lean into Mingyu again, voice low and mischievous.

“Hey,” you say. “If I guessed your safe word, would you tell me?”

“No,” he says immediately.

“Is it something embarrassing?” you tease. “Like… ‘Bubbles?’ ‘Chick-fil-A?’”

He looks at you. “It’s ‘Stop flirting with me in front of our friends.’”

You place a hand on his knee, entirely unrepentant. “That’s a terrible safe word. No one would ever say that in a sexy context, and it's way too long.”

“I’m saying it now.”

“And I’m ignoring it,” you say brightly.

“You always do.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like the attention.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at you, slow and deliberate, and sips his beer like it’s a middle finger. You wink. He rolls his eyes. Somewhere across the room, someone starts fake-gagging at the tension.

And maybe you’re not winning the game. And maybe you’re not getting laid. But you are exactly where you want to be. Still in the game. Still in the chase. Still driving Mingyu absolutely insane—one flirt at a time.

You're halfway through another drink when you notice her.

She’s pretty. Not intimidatingly so, just that easy kind of pretty that laughs with her whole face and touches Mingyu’s arm a little too often. And he doesn’t move it. Doesn’t lean away. You keep sipping, smile still in place.

It’s not like you’re jealous. You don’t do jealous. That would imply something serious. That would imply you’re losing something you ever had. It’s common knowledge that Mingyu takes a new girl home every time there's a get-together. You know that.

You lean over to Jeonghan, who’s beside you on the floor. “Hey,” you whisper. “Think I should start licking Mingyu’s neck or would that be overkill?”

He blinks at you. “Overkill for what?”

“Winning.”

He glances at Mingyu, then at the girl with the hand on Mingyu’s knee. Then at you again. “You’re losing.”

“Temporarily.”

Jeonghan snorts. “I don’t think you understand how the game works.”

You shoot him a glare and turn back just in time to catch Mingyu laughing at something she said. His hand brushes hers. Casual. Effortless. The kind of thing you’ve been trying to get out of him for weeks just handed to some girl in a backless top.

God, you hate it here.

Your stomach does something stupid. You pretend it’s indigestion and down the rest of your drink like it’s armor.

Somewhere around 1 a.m., the group starts thinning. Jackets come on, Ubers get called. Mingyu stands, casual, easy, and holds out a hand to the girl. You’re on the couch, legs curled up, an empty solo cup in hand like a sad little trophy. He meets your eyes for half a second.

Door clicks shut.

The room feels a little quieter. You sit there, watching the screen even though no one’s playing anymore. Popcorn underfoot. Bottles on the table. Someone else’s jacket on your lap. You’re not upset. Not really. The screensaver flickers across the TV—someone’s dog, maybe. Or a stock image of a beach. Either way, it’s mocking you.

You sink further into the couch, solo cup still dangling from your fingers like it's got something to say about your life choices. You ignore it. You ignore the silence too.

This is fine.

You’re fine.

You weren’t trying to win anything. Not really. Not in any real, capital-letter way. This was a game, remember? All jokes and eye contact and the occasional threat to climb into his lap. It wasn’t supposed to matter. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Someone turns off the lights in the kitchen. You flinch a little at the sudden dark, even though you’re still glowing, apparently—your phone lighting up on the table with some meme from Seungkwan and a text from Jeonghan that just says:

«Devil on my shoulder»: you good?

You stare at it for a second too long. Then type back:

«Me»: always

Then you set your phone face-down and pretend that means something.

You don’t know why it stings. It’s not like he owes you anything. You’re not dating. You’re not even flirting, technically, if you ask him. Just… joking. Just friends. Friends who touch too much, maybe. Friends who play chicken with boundaries and never break. Friends who—

Yeah, okay.

You stand up. A little too fast. The room tilts like it wants to challenge you. You wave goodbye to whoever’s still left, say something flippant and breezy, and duck out before anyone can notice that your voice sounds a little too bright.

Outside, the air is cool and sharp and real. You take a breath like it’ll fix you. It doesn’t.

You go home and go to sleep. Alone, like always. No texts. No calls. Just the creak of your door, the whisper of your sheets, and the dull ache of your pride bruising in real time. You tell yourself it’s whatever. You’re not sad. You’re just… tired. Emotionally. Dramatically. Cosmetically.

You ditch class.

Not for any noble reason like catching up on sleep or mental health or whatever excuse you normally feed yourself. You just… don’t feel like seeing people. Don’t feel like making small talk or pretending you’re not reeling over something that shouldn't even count as a loss. Because it’s not a loss. You were never in the running.

Still, you wake up to a blank phone screen and an even blanker apartment. It’s too quiet. You check Instagram. Mingyu's not posted anything, obviously. He never does. But one of the other girls from last night has—there’s a blurry video of a round of drinks, a flash of Mingyu’s grin in the background, a corner of her thigh in the foreground. Nothing explicit. Nothing confirmable. But it doesn’t have to be.

You toss your phone aside and groan into your pillow. Dramatic? Maybe. Deserved? You pretend it is.

By noon, you’ve migrated to the couch in the same hoodie you went to bed in, a tub of ice cream in your lap and a terrible reality show playing in the background. You consider texting Jeonghan something petty, maybe even making a joke about neck-licking again, but you know exactly what he’d say.

“You lost.”

You hate that he’d be right.

It’s not about the sex (Well, not just the sex). It’s the principle. The chase. The fact that you’ve been climbing this flirty little hill like it’s Everest, only to watch Mingyu pitch a damn tent with someone else on a whim. Sure, Mingyu’s your friend, but that should have made it easier, if anything! You know him, you know things none of those other girls do. The doubts start creeping in your mind before you can stop them.

You lean your head back, eyes closing.

“I’m an idiot,” you mutter to the ceiling.

The ceiling does not respond. Rude.

You wake up again around noon, your head a little foggy, your phone face-down on the nightstand like it betrayed you.

Which, in a way, it did.

You scroll through a few texts — mostly memes, some blurry pictures from last night, and Jeonghan’s very helpful “Mingyu’s girl looked like a yoga instructor. Your move.”

You don’t respond.

Instead, you drag yourself out of bed, slap some concealer under your eyes, and show up at the group’s usual late brunch spot like you’re not currently losing the dumbest, pettiest war in history.

He’s already there, of course. Hair still damp from a shower, sunglasses perched on his head, acting like he didn’t absolutely obliterate your ego less than 12 hours ago. You slide into the seat across from him, toss your bag down, and reach for the mimosa pitcher.

“Rough night?” he asks, because of course he does.

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, did something happen? I wouldn’t know. I was too busy not getting laid.”

He snorts. “Tragic.”

“I know,” you sigh, pouring dramatically. “I almost had a sure thing. Tall guy, stupidly good-looking, terrible taste in women.”

“Sounds like a loser.”

“Total menace,” you agree. “Wears hoodies like a slut.”

Mingyu smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It was meant to be foreplay,” you joke into your drink like always, hiding the way your stomach sinks at the sight of him.

The waitress interrupts before he can fire back, and the conversation shifts to food, hangovers, and Seungkwan’s latest dating horror story. You slide back into the group like nothing’s wrong, even though there’s a weird little space inside you that feels vaguely bruised.

But you’re fine. Really.

Brunch drags on in that lazy, post-night-out kind of way — plates half-empty, drinks refilled without question, everyone talking over each other about things no one will remember tomorrow. You fake-laugh at Hoshi’s story about getting kicked out of a club for “enthusiastic dancing” and sip your third mimosa like it’s a coping mechanism. It kind of is.

Mingyu’s across from you still, legs sprawled like he owns the whole sidewalk café. He’s mostly quiet, nodding along, occasionally chiming in, occasionally looking at you. Just enough to make you insane. Not enough to call him out for it.

You lean toward Jeonghan when the conversation shifts again. “Hey,” you whisper, low and conspiratorial. “Be honest. On a scale of one to ten, how good do you think my odds are if I fake faint in Mingyu’s lap?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Like, in general? Or while he’s still got yoga girl’s perfume on his hoodie?”

You pause. Grimace. “Okay, one: rude. Two: you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I really am,” he says, sipping his iced coffee like it’s tea. “You’re fun when you’re losing.”

“I’m not losing,” you hiss.

“You’re not winning.”

You open your mouth to retort, but Mingyu’s voice cuts across the table.

“You two whispering about me again?”

“Always,” you say brightly, switching gears without missing a beat. “We’re discussing how you peaked in 2019.”

He smiles around the rim of his glass. “That the year you first tried to get in my pants?”

“No,” you say with a shrug. “That was more recent. I didn’t know what I was missing back then.”

“Still don’t,” he replies, maddeningly calm.

You narrow your eyes. “Yet.”

“Ever.”

You flash a grin, syrup-sweet. “Careful, Kim. I’m like a raccoon in the walls. You ignore me long enough and I start chewing through the wiring.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, but he’s smiling. A little. Just at the corner of his mouth.

You hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary, then look away like it meant nothing. Like you’re not keeping score. Like you didn’t notice the bruise-colored shadow under his eyes or how his voice was a little hoarse when he first said hi.

He’s not gloating.

That should make it easier. But it doesn’t. Because somehow, that makes it worse.

Somehow, him being normal, relaxed, unbothered — like taking another girl home wasn’t a big deal — hurts more than if he’d rubbed it in your face. Because you know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

You take another sip, push a smile onto your lips, and lean over to Jeonghan again.

“New plan,” you whisper. “I sleep with someone hotter.”

He glances at Mingyu. Then at you. “You’re gonna need a bracket system.”

“I’ll make a spreadsheet.”

“God help us all.”

You clink your glass against his in solemn agreement and stab at your pancake like it personally offended you. Jeonghan’s scrolling on his phone like he’s not in the presence of your emotional collapse, which is rude, frankly.

“So,” you say casually, “wanna fuck?”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “No.”

You pout. “Why not?”

He glances up. “Because I enjoy my life? And my sanity?”

“Rude.”

“I’ve seen what you’ve done to Mingyu.”

You scoff. “Mingyu did that to himself.”

“You are the one trying to seduce him like it’s your full-time job.”

“I’m freelance,” you say brightly. “Flexible hours, great benefits. Or they would be, if someone would just let me ride—”

“God,” Jeonghan mutters, holding up a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence in daylight.”

You lean your chin on your hand, smiling at him. “You sure? We could make Mingyu jealous. Really commit to the bit. Tongue in my mouth, hand on my ass, your name in my—”

“Please.” He waves his fork like a white flag. “There are families within a one-mile radius.”

You laugh, but there’s a tiny part of you—just under the humor, under the tequila still fizzing in your veins from the drink—that means it. Just a little.

You just want to feel wanted. Desired. Chosen.

Even if it’s fake.

Even if it’s stupid.

Even if it’s Jeonghan.

But Jeonghan sees it, of course. He always sees too much. His voice softens. “You don’t actually want me.”

You sigh, deflating. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want someone to look at me like I’m not a joke.”

“You’re not a joke.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You literally said I ruined Mingyu.”

“I said you ruined his brain, which—honestly, fair. But you’re not a joke.”

You don’t answer. You just go back to stabbing your pancake, chewing on silence and syrup and the feeling of almost being enough.

Almost.

You clear your throat, sit up a little straighter, and flash Jeonghan a grin like nothing’s wrong at all.

“Well,” you say lightly, “if you’re not going to help me fulfill my slutty revenge arc, I guess I’ll have to outsource.”

Jeonghan eyes you. “You’re deflecting.”

You widen your smile. “I’m recruiting.”

He snorts. “Don’t recruit me. I’m unionized.”

You laugh, tossing a piece of fruit at his face. He dodges it easily, still watching you with that quiet scrutiny that always makes you want to squirm. You don’t. You stay collected. Cool. Unbothered.

Because it’s not a big deal. Not really. So what if Mingyu left with some girl last night? That’s just who he is. It’s been who he is since before you started this ridiculous game. You were the one who walked in knowing the rules. You just… hoped you’d break them.

Stupid.

“Anyway,” you say, breezy, like you're not holding your smile together with metaphorical duct tape, “I’ve decided to turn over a new leaf.”

“You’re spiraling.”

“I’m improvising.”

“You’re losing.”

You sigh, dragging your gaze back to Mingyu—still relaxed, still maddening, still wearing that same damn hoodie. “God, he’s so annoying.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan says, “but you’re in love with the attention.”

You snort into your drink. “I am not in love.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not!” you insist. “I’m in… open conflict. With my dignity.”

Jeonghan chuckles, tipping his sunglasses down to look you in the eye. “Then maybe start treating it like a war. Regroup. Change tactics.”

You glance at Mingyu again. He’s listening to something Seungkwan is saying, a lazy smile on his face, like the last twenty-four hours were nothing. Like none of it meant anything. You hate how much you still want to reach out, to rewind to the couch, to the teasing, to the slow thrill of being almost something. Of feeling like you mattered more than the rest.

“Fine,” you murmur, straightening up. “New strategy.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Which is?”

You smile, all teeth and intent. “Play the long game.”

He snorts. “Is that code for ‘text a situationship to make Mingyu jealous?’”

“No,” you say, pulling your phone out anyway. “It’s code for ‘remind myself I’m the main character.’”

Jeonghan lifts his mimosa in salute. “Amen.”

You all head out, someone, Seungkwan probably, suggesting thrifting, and who are you to deny yourself from some retail therapy. Not that you need it. Not that it hurts when you’re rejected over and over. Not that anyone was thinking that at all. Haha.

“If I find an outfit sexy enough will you change your mind?” You say, clinging to Mingyu’s arm and batting your eyelashes, prompting an eye roll from the man.

“I rejected you in lingerie, no.” He laughs, making Jeonghan choke.

“PARDON?!”

You shrug, “It was a strategic move at the time.” You lie, not letting it bother you.

You all walk into the thrift store and you immediately take off, dragging Jeonghan with you to be the reason for your poor spending decisions. You browse the racks, grabbing different things to try on. It goes by quickly, you (not-so) subtly avoid Mingyu, using the clothes as an excuse. You need to focus on budgeting. Obviously.

You’re browsing through the dresses when you feel him behind you. You don’t look, don’t need to. You know that presence, tall and annoyingly warm. You pretend to be invested in a vaguely sparkly green slip dress, holding it up to the light like you're testing it for authenticity. As if that matters.

“Whatcha looking at?” Mingyu asks, voice low and closer than you’d like.

You hum noncommittally, turning just enough to side-eye him. “Does this say ‘fuck me’ or ‘fuck off?” You wonder out loud.

His mouth quirks, amused, “Neither, it says you’re trying to get to me again. I’m not sleeping with you, dress or not.”

You roll your eyes, “Cool, not what I asked.”

He snorts, the way always does when you're trying to act unbothered. “You literally asked, like, ten minutes ago.”

“That was a bit, Kim,” you say, flipping through a few more hangers. “An act. I’m a performer, get with the program.”

He laughs again, and it makes your chest feel tight. You want to be mad, want to have the right to feel mad. Instead you hold up a red mesh dress and make a show of holding it against yourself.

“This one says heartbreaker, doesn’t it?”

Mingyu lifts an eyebrow. “It says cover charge required.”

Jeonghan snorts from somewhere behind a rack. “He’s not wrong.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to Jeonghan with a pout. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am,” Jeonghan says, already holding three things you didn’t ask him to, “but I also support truth in fashion.”

You roll your eyes and stomp toward the dressing rooms, tossing the dress over your arm. Inside the dressing room, it’s just you and the mirror — which is never as forgiving as it should be. You pull the red mesh dress over your head and immediately regret it. It clings, not in a flattering way, not in a sexy, dangerous way — no, it clings like a bad idea. A transparent, slightly itchy bad idea.

You stare at yourself for a beat too long, imagining what Mingyu would say if he saw you like this. Probably something smug. Probably something that would make you want to claw the smirk right off his face.

But the worst part? He wouldn’t say nothing.

You sigh, tugging the dress back off with a grumble and trying on the next thing — a black velvet number with off-the-shoulder sleeves. Better. Safer. Something you might actually wear if your life wasn’t a constant performance. If it weren’t for all the stupid looks you steal, the dumb comments you toss like confetti just to see if he’ll catch one and throw it back. You shake the thoughts away, it's just shopping, why are you thinking so hard?

Outside, you can hear the others chatting, footsteps, laughter. You can feel Mingyu still somewhere nearby. Of course he didn’t leave.

You try on one last outfit, something ridiculous and shiny and absolutely not within budget, and you know Jeonghan’s going to encourage it anyway. You exit the stall dramatically, hand on your hip.

“Well?” you say, spinning once. “Do I look heartbreakingly unattainable or tragically desperate?”

“Why choose?” Seungkwan offers, sipping an iced americano he absolutely didn’t have five minutes ago.

“Iconic,” Jeonghan nods approvingly. “That outfit is the personality now. You’re welcome.”

Mingyu glances up from his phone. His gaze lingers a second too long — you catch it, of course you do — and then he says, “You’re gonna make someone very confused in that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Not you, though?”

“Nope,” he says easily, looking back at his screen. “I’ve already accepted my fate.”

“What fate is that?” you ask, stepping closer, tone teasing.

He doesn’t look up. “Doomed to be hit on in public by someone who refuses to take a hint.”

Jeonghan whistles. “Harsh.”

You just smile, tilting your head. “And yet, here you are. Still following me around thrift stores like a sad golden retriever.”

Mingyu finally meets your eyes, and there’s something unreadable in his expression. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but it’s softer than it should be.

You wish it stung more. Maybe then you could stop hoping he’d change his mind.

You step back into the dressing room, looking at the last dress for you to try on. Not something you’d normally wear: a cute sundress, flowy, innocent, something you’d have dreamed of wearing when you were a child. You slip it on, looking in the mirror with a soft smile. It's moments like these that you let yourself breath a second, let that little kid be happy. Back when things had been simpler, at least in your little world. You don’t step out yet, letting yourself enjoy the moment before changing back into your regular clothes.

You finally walk back out, dress under the others on your arm as you hang them back up. You hesitate as you hang the sundress and decide, fuck it.

“Alright, let's check out.” You say brightly.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow as he watches you march toward the front. “Wait, you’re buying something cute? Are you okay? Blink twice if Mingyu broke you emotionally.”

You shoot him a look over your shoulder. “He wishes he had that kind of power, shut the fuck up.”

Seungkwan hums thoughtfully, trailing behind you with the solemnity of a fashion consultant in a Paris showroom. “No, no, this is giving… character development. Like a girlboss in her soft era. A post-Mingyu arc.”

“I’m not in a Mingyu arc,” you mutter as you reach the checkout counter.

“Sure you aren’t,” Seungkwan and Jeonghan say at the same time, which feels both rude and accurate.

You ignore them, placing the sundress gently on the counter like it’s fragile. The cashier gives you a polite smile, ringing it up with a soft beep. You hand over your card, pretending not to notice how Mingyu is suddenly next to you again, close enough that you can smell the damn detergent he uses. Clean. Familiar.

“You’re buying that?” he asks, not mocking, just wondering.

You shrug without looking at him. “Yup.”

He glances at the dress, then at you. “It’s… different.”

“I guess,” you say, too quickly. “It's pretty though, thought I might branch out from slutty college student to country whore.”

Mingyu’s chuckles. You don’t look, don’t dare to. Just sign your name on the little screen and slide your card back into your wallet like this is any other day and not a minor shift in your emotional tectonic plates.

“You’ll look good in it,” he says honestly, the same compliments he always gives.

But something about it feels different, deeper, almost. You turn then, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes you can’t place. It’s not the usual teasing glint, not that sharp-edged challenge he usually throws at you like a dare, nor the friendly compliments and support he gives just as often.

It’s something softer. Careful, almost.

You swallow. “Thanks.”

He nods once, then looks away like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like it slipped. You want to say something else — anything, really — but Seungkwan saves you both the trouble by clapping his hands like a preschool teacher at snack time.

“Alright, emotional tension break’s over, everyone back in the car before I dissolve into my own feelings.”

“I’m not riding with her,” Mingyu says, jerking a thumb in your direction. “She’s dangerous when she’s self-actualizing.”

You grin at him and tease. “Scared you might give in?”

He just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he walks out, “You wish.”

Jeonghan loops an arm through yours as you step outside, his sunglasses back on like he’s shielding himself from your emotional UV rays. “You gonna explain the new style?” he says, voice amused but not unkind. You shake your head and his voice softens slightly. “You gonna be okay?”

You shrug, leaning into him a little. “Eventually.”

“Soon?”

You grin. “Long game, remember?”

He sighs, dragging you toward the car. “God, I miss when you were just drunk and emotionally irresponsible. This whole personal growth thing is exhausting.”

You laugh, letting him pull you along. Mingyu’s already in the passenger seat, legs sprawled like always, phone in hand. He doesn’t look up. Doesn’t need to.

You still feel the pull anyway. But you’ve got your new dress in a bag, your chin a little higher than before and a half-smile tucked into your cheek like a secret. Maybe he’ll notice eventually. Maybe he won’t. But this time, you’re not dressing up for him. You’re dressing up for the version of yourself that knew she deserved the world. Even if she still kind of wants him anyway.

And maybe that’s the point. Maybe, just for a little, it’s not about whether Mingyu looks at you and finally, finally sees what he’s been too comfortable to name. Maybe it’s about choosing to see yourself instead—clearly, kindly, without a punchline waiting in the wings.

The ride back is half-loud, half-sleepy, Seungkwan yelling about bad aux and Jeonghan threatening to start a podcast just to cancel him publicly. You laugh when you’re supposed to, play your part like you always do. But this time, it feels less like acting and more like remembering. Like brushing off old habits and trying something different. Like letting your heart catch its breath for a moment.

You catch Mingyu watching you once in the rearview mirror—just a flicker, a second too long before he looks away. You don’t react. You don’t rise to it. And when he cracks a joke meant to bait you, you smile, slow and warm, and say nothing at all.

Let him wonder.

Because for just a moment you’re pausing the chase and enjoying the moment with friends. Because you’ve got something better now—something quieter, steadier.

A little hope. A little growth.

A little dress in a bag that says: You’re allowed to change.

And maybe, just maybe, this time it’s not about ruining him.

Maybe it’s about saving yourself.

Just for a moment.

And then you snap out of it, going back to smart remarks and flirty comments, because change is hard, habits difficult to break. But you know that it’s possible. And for now, that’s enough.

Four days later, you arrive at Mingyu’s door wearing sweatpants and no bra.

Not in a sexy way. In an “I’ve had enough of your righteous self-control and I’m playing the long game now” way. Strategic vulnerability. The sexiest mind game of all. More than that, you need to rant to your best friend.

You knock with your elbow, a bag of takeout in one hand and a pint of ice cream balanced on top.

He opens the door and freezes.

“Wow,” he says, blinking. “You okay?”

“No,” you say, breezing past him. “I’m emotionally fragile and I need dumplings.”

Mingyu closes the door behind you. “You look emotionally fragile. Did someone die? Do I need to bury a body?”

You flop dramatically onto the couch, stretching like a cat who’s absolutely not here for seduction purposes. “Only my faith in modern romance.”

He snorts. “Was it the TikTok guy who said he wouldn’t date a girl who owns more than one pillow?”

You glare at him. “No. But honestly? Same energy.”

He joins you on the couch, reaching for the takeout bag. “Tell me everything.”

And you do. In great detail. About the guy in your seminar who asked if your “whole personality is just being a woman,” about your professor who made a joke about menopause while grading your essay, and about your period arriving early like an emotionally manipulative ex.

Through it all, Mingyu listens. Really listens. His thigh brushes yours occasionally, and you absolutely don’t notice the way he keeps glancing at your collarbone, which is scandalously bare thanks to your hoodie’s slouchy neckline.

He feeds you dumplings, presses the ice cream into your hands when you need it, and tells you he once cried at a car commercial, just to make you laugh.

And somewhere in the middle of watching reruns of Criminal Minds and trading increasingly unhinged opinions about Spencer Reid’s emotional maturity, you realize just how fucked you may be. Because Mingyu is your best friend. He’s your kind, funny, smart, unfairly sexy best friend. How are you supposed to stop yourself from falling for him?

Jeonghan was right, you realize. You're way deeper than you thought, so deep that you don’t think you can ever swim back to the surface of friendship. Shit. You continue watching, ignoring the feelings, knowing damn well they won’t go away. You fight the realization, convincing yourself to wait until you’re alone to break.

You aren’t even sure when you fell asleep, just that you woke up wrapped in a blanket, sprawled out on Mingyu’s couch.

He’s at the kitchen counter now, back to you, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from a shower. You stay still for a second longer, watching the curve of his shoulders shift as he pours himself a glass of water. You have the absurd thought that you could walk over and press your face between his shoulder blades and he might let you.

“You let me hog your couch,” you murmur, voice still scratchy.

“You drooled on it too,” he replies without turning, deadpan.

You smile faintly and sit up, the blanket slipping down. “Guess I owe you something.”

That gets him to glance over his shoulder. “You’re not cleaning it.”

You stand and stretch slowly, deliberately, feigning casualness. “Nah, I was thinking something more fun.” You walk over, letting your hand brush against the side of his as you reach for the same glass. “Maybe you should consider accepting one of my offers for once?”

“You’re really gonna try that before brushing your teeth?” he jokes lightly, but there's a quiet firmness beneath the joke.

You laugh—too loud, too fast. “Wow. Harsh.” You lean back, arms crossing over your chest to hide the sting. “I’m beginning to think you’re scared of me, Gyu.”

“I’m not scared of you,” he says. He turns to look at you then, really look, and the joke falls flat between you.

There's a pause.

“Then what is it?” you ask, keeping your voice even, your smile like armor. “Am I just not your type? I didn’t think you had one from the… variety of girls I’ve seen you take home.”

Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair. “You’re tired. Go back to sleep.”

You don’t move. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got for you.”

You let the silence settle in like dust. Then you nod, once, and turn away before he can see the disappointment tightening your face.

“Fine,” you say, the humor gone now even though you try to keep your voice light. “I’ll brush my teeth first next time.” You attempt, dropping back onto the couch and pulling the blanket over your shoulders like it might shield you from how hollow it suddenly feels.

Once you get home you let yourself fully realize. You sink into your bed, all of the moments that made you fall for him crashing into you like a tidal wave you hadn’t realized was coming until it was drowning you. His smile, his laugh, how he helps people when they need it, even when they don’t. How you use stupid jokes and flirting to pretend you don’t feel the way you do. How every time he’d take a new girl home a small part of you would twinge. How you’ve been so incredibly stupid. You wipe your tears, taking a shaky breath.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

The next wave crashes when you remember just how much he doesn’t want you. How much he turns you down, how much you try. You’d never had to try so hard with anyone else, you’d been able to bat your eyelashes and end up in someone's bed if you so wanted. But not the one person who matters.

But even that—even that—you try to twist into something survivable.

Maybe he’s just being careful. Maybe you’re too important to risk. Maybe he’s a coward.

Maybe you are.

You tell yourself he was tired too. That he didn’t mean it like that. That timing is everything and yours has always sucked.

Still, the thought circles like a vulture:

He doesn’t want you. Not like that.

And it doesn’t matter how many times you run the memories back through your head, searching for proof that he did. Because no matter how hard you look, you don’t find anything except friendly banter and a hint of genuine annoyance. Your flirting annoys him, you realize. You think back to the set of his jaw, then slight tension in his shoulders. The boundaries you’d been constantly pushing.

You don’t text him for two days.

He doesn’t text either.

On the third day, Jeonghan shows up at your door with his usual lack of warning and a bag of pastries that you’re too sad to pretend you don’t immediately want.

“I bring carbs and judgment,” he says cheerfully, pushing inside. “How’s the unrequited love pit treating you?”

You groan and faceplant into your pillow.

“Oh good,” Jeonghan says, “you’ve upgraded from denial to despair. Next stop, emotional rock bottom. We’ll get you a punch card.”

You muffle into the pillow, “I thought you were going to pretend to be supportive.”

“I am being supportive,” he says, tugging the blanket off you just enough to shove a croissant into your hand. “You’re not crying alone. You’re crying with me. And a chocolate pastry.”

You take a bite. Then another. Jeonghan waits.

After a minute, you speak. “He looked me in the eyes and told me to go back to sleep. Like I was just tired. Like that explained everything.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, just watches you with that knowing look that makes you want to throw the croissant at him.

“I was half-joking,” you continue, bitterly. “The flirting. The offers. The lingerie. All of it — it was funny. It was supposed to be funny.”

“It was never just funny,” Jeonghan says gently.

You sit up, brushing crumbs off your hoodie. “Well, it wasn’t serious, either. Not at first. It was a bit, Han. A way to keep things easy. A way to be close to him without, you know—actually saying it.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “But then it stopped being a bit.”

You press your palms into your eyes, letting the heel of your hand dig into your sockets. “Yeah. And the worst part? He probably still thinks it is. He probably thinks I’m just messing with him for fun. That I never meant any of it.”

Jeonghan leans back in your desk chair, spinning slightly as he crosses one leg over the other. “Well, to be fair… you’ve kind of trained everyone around you to think you’re never serious.”

You shoot him a look.

“I’m not judging!” he says, holding up a hand. “Just saying. You’re always ‘fine.’ Always laughing first. You’ve got more walls than a medieval castle, and all of them are covered in sarcasm and slutty little jokes.”

You give a half-hearted snort. “You say that like it’s a bad strategy.”

“It’s a safe strategy,” he corrects. “Until you actually start feeling something and suddenly no one knows when you’re telling the truth — including him.”

You go quiet. Because he’s right. You’ve been dancing that line for so long, even you stopped knowing when it was real and when it was for the bit. Until now. Until the silence stretched too long and the jokes stopped landing and all you wanted was for him to want you back — not as a punchline, not as part of the game, but really, actually, you.

And he didn’t.

Or maybe he did — but if he did, he’s never going to say it. Never going to risk what you have. You’re always the one pushing. Always the one cracking a joke that skirts too close to the truth. You made it a game so you wouldn’t have to face how much it would hurt to lose.

Now it hurts anyway.

“I feel stupid,” you say softly.

“You’re not,” Jeonghan replies. “You just fell for someone who’s too scared to catch you. That’s not on you.”

You look down at the pastry in your hands, crumbling around the edges. “Then why do I feel like the punchline?”

“Because you’ve been delivering the setup for months,” he says, gently. “And now the joke’s on you.”

You laugh, dry and humorless. “Great. Love that for me.”

Jeonghan reaches over and squeezes your hand. “Hey. You’re not done. You’re just heartbruised.”

“Heartbruised?” you echo.

He shrugs. “It’s like heartbroken, but softer. More recoverable. You’ll bounce back. You always do.” You nod slowly, letting the silence settle for a second.

And then you say, “I’m done flirting with him.”

Jeonghan lifts a brow. “Sure you are.”

“No, seriously. No more jokes. No more lingerie. No more pretending I don’t mean it.”

“Does that mean you're going to tell him you mean it?”

You stare at him. “Absolutely not. Are you insane?”

Jeonghan grins, wide and wicked. “So brave. So emotionally evolved.”

You throw a pillow at him.

But in the quiet that follows, you know it’s true — you’ve been chasing him with jokes and soft threats and wide eyes for months, always giving him the out. Always letting it be just a game. But it was never really one. Not for you.

And maybe now the game’s over. Maybe now you stop playing.

Let him wonder.

Let him miss you.

You’ll be okay. You have to be.

Because at the end of the day, if he never wanted you — not really — then he never deserved the version of you that did.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You ignore it for a second, pretending it’s some promotional email or a text from Jeonghan even though he’s sitting right next to you, elbow-deep in your snack drawer like he lives here. But it buzzes again.

Jeonghan glances over. “That him?”

You don’t answer, just reach for it with a knot already forming in your chest.

«Mingyu»: what’s going on with you?

You stare at the screen. Another buzz.

«Mingyu»: you’ve been weird lately

«Mingyu»: did i do something?

Jeonghan watches you read it. “You gonna respond?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, locking the screen.

“Interesting,” he says, drawing out the word. “Old you would’ve replied with something like ‘what, you miss me?’ or ‘guess you’ll have to come over and find out.’”

You shoot him a look. “Well, old me was an idiot.”

“She was funny, though,” he grins. “And so brave.”

“Shut up.”

You unlock your phone again, read the messages once more. Your fingers hover over the keyboard.

You could say nothing. You could leave it on read, let him stew in it. Let him wonder why the energy shifted and whether or not you’re finally over it. Over him.

Or you could say something real for once.

Something careful. Controlled.

So you type:

«You»: nothing’s going on «You»: just tired

You hit send, then immediately regret it. It’s too vague. Too obvious. Another message pops up almost instantly.

«Mingyu»: you sure?

And then, a beat later:

«Mingyu»: did i fuck something up?

You sigh and set the phone down face-down. Jeonghan’s still watching you, chewing on some expired gummy bears like this is a drama he’s bingeing with snacks.

“You can’t avoid him forever,” he offers, gently.

You roll your eyes. “And say what? ‘Hey, remember all those times I begged you to sleep with me as a joke? Surprise! I wasn’t kidding!’”

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Jeonghan says, amused. “Although that would be on-brand.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I need time to think.”

A week passes with you avoiding Mingyu like the plague. He still texts, still worries. At one point you’d almost gone up to him, but then you saw him walking into his dorm with another one-night and realized you couldn’t do this any more. Because seeing him hurt, and you know he’ll never like you back. Not the way you do. So the next time he texts, you don’t ignore him.

«Mingyu»: seriously, you’re worrying me

You stare at the screen, thumb hovering, but you don’t answer. Not yet. Not when everything feels like it’s balancing on the edge of a knife. Not when his name flashing on your screen makes your heart twist. Another text follows.

«Mingyu»: did i do something? «Mingyu»: just tell me, please

You bite the inside of your cheek. The truth is tangled up in too many months of jokes that weren’t really jokes, of sidelong glances and lingering touches passed off as nothing. And now you don’t know how to say it without setting the whole thing on fire. It’s stupid. You were the one who started it. The teasing. The innuendos. The half-drunken dares to “just do it already.” You made it a game. One he never played seriously. And now you’re the one losing. The one hurting. And you look at that cute little sundress hanging in your closet, seeing that little girl you used to be and know you can’t do this any more. For her. For you. You finally respond with a clipped:

«you»: can we talk?

Mingyu opens the door the second you knock, like he was waiting behind it.

His brows are furrowed. “What’s going on? You’ve been weird for days.”

You step inside without answering, your arms folded across your chest like a shield, as if it’ll protect you from what you know is to come.

He closes the door behind you slowly. “Okay… seriously. Talk to me.”

You stare at the floor, the speech you’d planned slipping from your mind the second you open your mouth. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

The words leave your lips quietly, but they echo, soft and brutal.

He freezes. “What?”

You lift your gaze, force yourself to hold his. “I think we should stop being friends.”

Your voice is firmer this time, although there’s a slight waver you can’t shake. But you know you have to do this. For yourself.

His brow furrows deeper. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Yes, it does,” he snaps. “You don’t just say something like that and act like it’s nothing.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You think this isn’t?” he practically scoffs, voice rising.

You wince. “I just—this isn’t good for me anymore, okay? I can’t keep doing this.”

“What does this even mean? What are we doing that’s so bad?”

You hesitate. You know exactly what you mean. But you can’t say it—not the real thing. So instead you deflect. You say something stupid. Something you don’t really mean, not in the way you know it sounds.

“I guess I just got tired of being the only girl you won’t sleep with.”

He stares at you like he’s been slapped.

“…What?” His voice is quiet, stunned.

You look away. “Forget it.”

“No. No, you don’t get to say that and then back out.” He steps forward. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I told you to forget it,” you mutter, panic clawing up your throat.

“So that’s what this is about?” he says, disbelief giving way to anger. “That I haven’t fucked you?”

You don’t answer.

His voice grows louder. “You’re throwing away years of friendship because I didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Don’t twist it like that—”

“I’m not twisting anything. Those were your words.” He gestures at you, furious. “Is that all I am to you? Just someone to chase until you can check me off your list?”

You flinch. “That’s not fair.”

He scoffs. “No, what’s not fair is acting like I did something wrong by treating you with respect. Like me not jumping into bed with you is some personal insult.”

You snap. “You don’t get it!”

“Then explain it! Because right now, all I see is my best friend suddenly treating me like I’m the villain for not screwing her!”

“I never said you were a villain!”

“You didn’t have to! You’re acting like I’ve been stringing you along, like I owe you something I never fucking promised.”

“I didn’t want a promise!” Your voice is shaking. “I just wanted— I just wanted to feel like I wasn’t invisible!”

That stops him. His face falls, just for a second. But it’s too late now. The dam is cracking.

He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “So what? Sleeping together would’ve fixed that?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, turning away.

You see the hurt on his face even as he hides it.

“You’re ruining our friendship because I won’t fuck you? Is that all I am? Just someone to get close to and sleep with just so you can say you did?” His voice is tight now—not just angry, but betrayed.

You flinch. “Of course you aren’t, I…” You trail off.

He stares. “Say it.” His tone is venomous.

Your mouth won’t move. You look at him, and all the things you never wanted him to see are staring back at you through your silence.

His lips press into a line. “That’s what I thought.”

He turns away again—and that’s when the words leap out of you, desperate and raw:

“I’m in love with you!”

The world freezes, silence extending. His shoulders tense as he slowly turns back, eyes full of so many emotions you can’t tell what he’s thinking. His breath is labored and the dam inside you finally breaks.

“I didn’t know,” you say, voice cracking, barely holding together. “Not at first. It was just flirting, right? Dumb jokes about hooking up, just to see you roll your eyes or laugh. That was all it was. Just teasing.”

You laugh, but it’s hollow and bitter and it hurts.

“Then you hooked up with that girl from the party, and I told myself it was fine. What right did I have to be jealous when you were never even mine? But I went home that night and I couldn’t breathe, even though I knew I shouldn’t be upset, laid in bed and just kept asking myself. Why not me? What’s wrong with me?”

You suck in a breath, but it doesn’t help, “That’s when it started. That voice. It wouldn’t shut up. It told me I must be disgusting. Unappealing. Something you’d never even consider. Not even drunk. Not even if there’s no one else. I got so desperate to feel wanted I even asked Jeonghan to sleep with me, and you know what he said? He said he wasn’t what I wanted. Because he knew. Before I did, he knew.”

Your hands shake.

You press them against your sides like you’re holding yourself together. “And I kept making the jokes, brushing off what he’d said. Kept acting like I didn’t care. Because if I stopped laughing, you’d see the truth—and I was so scared of what you’d do with it. Would you pity me? Would you leave?”

Your voice breaks entirely. “I didn’t realize I loved you until I was already drowning in it. And by then, I couldn’t look at myself without hearing all the things I’m not. Not pretty enough. Not desirable. Not lovable. Just the friend you joked with, because that’s all I’d ever be. A joke.”

You let out a breath that sounds like a sob. “Because you said no. Every time. And I know you weren’t trying to hurt me—god, I know you’d never. You were being nice. Gentle. That’s what made it worse. You cared. Just not like that. So I twisted it around in my head. Tried to tell myself you were being noble. Or cautious. Or waiting. But deep down, I started to believe the truth. That I could never be enough for you.” Your eyes sting, but you don’t wipe them. “And now… now I finally admitted all that to myself, and it’s breaking me every time I see you. ”

You finally meet his eyes, and it feels like standing naked in the cold. “I’m not mad at you. I don’t think I could ever be mad at you, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just so tired of feeling so… worthless. I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. I just… I couldn’t carry it anymore. Pretending I was okay. Pretending I didn’t only ever feel whole when I’m near you. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

His eyes search yours, and for a moment you think maybe—maybe—he’s going to close the space between you. Say something, anything, that will make it hurt less.

But instead, his jaw clenches. His voice comes out low. Controlled. Too controlled.

“You should’ve told me.”

You look away, feeling the guilt crawl up your throat. “I’m telling you now.”

“No.” He shakes his head, bitter. “Not now. Not after all this. Not after you turned it into a fight.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.” He takes a step back like he needs distance. “You came in here ready to cut me out. Not because I hurt you. Not because I did anything wrong. But because I didn’t love you back fast enough.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Isn’t it?” His voice cracks around the edges. “You could’ve said something. Anything. But instead, you turned it into some fucked-up test and waited for me to fail.”

You freeze. “It wasn’t a test.”

“No?” He laughs bitterly. “You knew how I was. You know what I’m like with girls. You joked about it every chance you got. But the second I didn’t want to be that with you—suddenly I’m the asshole?”

“You’re not an asshole,” you whisper.

“But I’m still the guy you can’t even be friends with. That’s what you said.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Yes, you did.” His voice sharpens. “You meant it exactly like that. You wanted me to hurt the way you were hurting. You wanted me to feel guilty.”

Tears prick at your eyes again. “No, I just… I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve trusted me.” His hands drop to his sides. “You could’ve just… been honest.”

“I was scared,” you admit, and your voice shakes with the weight of it, “I am scared.”

He looks at you for a long moment. “Of me?”

“No.” You swallow. “Of me. Of not being enough. Of finding out that even if I tried… even if I gave you everything, you still wouldn’t want me.”

Silence stretches between you, sharp and heavy.

Then, quietly, “You don’t get to decide what I would’ve wanted,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “You never gave me the chance.”

He looks like he wants to say more—needs to say more—but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at you like he doesn’t even recognize you anymore. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair again, but this time it trembles slightly, like the adrenaline's wearing off and all that's left is the raw aftermath.

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” he murmurs.

You nod slowly, tears welling up again. “You don’t have to say anything. I didn’t come here expecting—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice thick. “Don’t act like this was some noble confession. You didn’t come here to just tell me. You came here to end it.”

You flinch because you know he’s not wrong.

He steps back again, arms folding like he's trying to hold himself together now. “You said you wanted to stop being friends. That was the decision you made before I even knew what was happening.”

“I thought it’d be easier,” you say, and you hate how broken it sounds.

“Easier for who?” he snaps. “You think it’s easy for me to watch you walk away? To hear you say all this and know there’s nothing I can do to make it better?”

Your lip trembles. “I just couldn’t take it any more and I didn’t want to make it your problem.”

He looks at you, incredulous. “I’m your best friend. I thought I was, anyway. Of course it’s my problem.”

You say nothing, because what is there to say?

“And for the record,” he adds, quieter now, “you were never invisible to me. Not once.”

You finally look up. “Then why…”

“Because you matter too much!” he says, his voice splintering. “Because I didn’t want to mess it up. I’ve messed up every relationship I’ve ever had, and I didn’t want to ruin you too. You’re the only thing I’ve ever cared about enough to not touch.”

Your breath catches as you look at him, heart clawing up your throat.

“And maybe I was stupid for thinking I could keep you close without eventually losing you.” His voice is bitter now, but more toward himself than you. “Maybe I should’ve known it’d end like this.”

You take a hesitant step forward. “Mingyu…”

But he steps back. “Don’t.”

The word is soft, but final.

“I don’t hate you,” he says after a long beat, eyes red-rimmed. “I don’t think I could. But I’m angry. And I’m hurt. And I don’t know what the hell to do with any of this right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never meant for it to happen like this.”

He gives you a broken, sad smile. “Yeah. Me neither.”

There’s another silence. One that feels different than all the others. Colder. Empty.

Finally, he walks past you, opens the door.

You don’t move.

“I think you should go,” he says, not looking at you.

And even though your heart is screaming, you nod. Because you knew this was coming. Hell, this is what you came here to do. But not like this. Nothing like this.

You walk out the door, and he doesn’t stop you.

You don’t remember how you got home.

One minute, you were in Mingyu’s apartment, heart in pieces at your feet. The next, you were on the street—walking, stumbling, maybe running. You’re not sure. The rain had started somewhere in between, soaking through your clothes, making it easier to hide your tears. Not that you tried.

You don’t remember texting Jeonghan, either.

But you must’ve, because he’s standing in your doorway by the time you get there, already holding your spare key. His brows are drawn tight with worry. “Jesus,” he breathes. “You look like hell.”

You try to speak, but your voice breaks. He doesn’t ask anything else. Just pulls you inside with a hand on your back and shuts the door gently behind you.

Ten minutes later, you’re in dry clothes—his hoodie, your sweats—and he’s sitting beside you on the couch, watching you like you might shatter if he blinks too hard.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “tell me what happened.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I told him.”

His voice softens. “Mingyu?”

You nod. “Everything. I told him I loved him.”

There’s a pause. Jeonghan leans back, breath whistling between his teeth. “And?”

You look at him, eyes red and raw. “He got mad.”

Jeonghan blinks. “Mad?”

You nod again, harder this time, like it’ll make it make more sense. “I told him I didn’t think we should be friends anymore. And he kept asking why, and I… I panicked. I said something awful. I told him I was tired of being the only girl he wouldn’t sleep with.”

Jeonghan winces. “Yikes.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, repeating what he’d told you after. You bite your lip hard, the echo of those words still fresh, like they’re etched on your skin.

Jeonghan runs a hand down his face, listening worried but obviously frustrated.

“I told him that wasn’t what I meant, but it was too late. He was so hurt. He was furious. And I just… I couldn’t stop. The words just kept coming. Then I told him I was in love with him.”

Jeonghan’s face softens, but not with pity—more like heartbreak on your behalf.

“And then he told me to leave,” you continue. “That I never gave him a chance and that he needed time. That he didn’t know what to do. So I left and now we’re here.”

Jeonghan is quiet for a long moment.

“Okay, yeah. That’s a fucking mess.”

You laugh bitterly. “Thanks.”

“I mean it kindly.” He shifts, turning to face you. “You didn’t hold back, huh?”

You shake your head. “Couldn’t.”

He sighs. “Look. I get it. Emotions are hard. But imagine from his perspective. You said something that sounded like a slap, and then you dropped a love confession on top of it. What did you think he was gonna do?”

“I didn’t think.” You stare down at your hands. “I was so scared he’d say he didn’t feel the same that I tried to end it before he could reject me. And when he got mad, I told myself it was what I deserved.”

Jeonghan swears under his breath. “Jesus.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He gives you a sharp look. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like you nuked a bridge because you were too scared to walk across it.”

You flinch. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees. “But neither was what you did to him.”

You bury your face in your knees.

After a moment, Jeonghan’s voice softens. “You really love him, huh?”

You nod without looking up. “So much it makes me hate myself.”

He’s quiet. Then, almost too gently, “Then you’re gonna have to clean this up.”

“How?” you whisper.

“Hell if I know, but start by being honest. Stop trying to protect your pride. You already burned it down. Go back and tell him everything again. But this time, don’t lead with guilt or anger. Just tell the truth.”

You look up at him, voice small. “What if he doesn’t want to hear it?”

Jeonghan meets your eyes. “Then at least you’ll know. But don’t let the last thing he remembers be that fight. Don’t let that be the last thing you remember.”

Your heart aches. You nod slowly.

He pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself fall into it. His hand rubs slow circles on your back.

“And next time,” he murmurs, “maybe don’t start the conversation by implying your best friend’s dick was the missing puzzle piece in your emotional breakdown.”

You groan into his chest. “I know.”

He chuckles into your hair. “God, you’re a disaster.”

You fall asleep on the couch, your face puffy and tight from crying, but your chest just a little looser—like the grief finally has somewhere to go.

When you wake, the sky is gray through the window, soft and overcast. Jeonghan’s draped a blanket over you, left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you, and disappeared into the kitchen, humming faintly to himself.

You sit up slowly, the events of the night before crashing back into your head like a wave you barely brace for.

“I should text him,” you say aloud.

Jeonghan appears in the doorway with a mug in his hand, one brow lifted. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I imploded all over you, wanna circle back?’”

You throw a pillow at him, a habit you realize you do way too much. He dodges, smug.

You sigh. “I don’t even know what to say, but I can’t just leave it here.”

Jeonghan walks over and hands you the mug—it’s tea, still warm. “Then don’t text yet. Think about what you actually want. Do you want to apologize? Explain? Ask for something?”

“I want him to know the truth.”

“He already does.”

“Then I want him to understand it.”

Jeonghan settles into the chair across from you, crossing one leg over the other. “Then don’t text. Talk to him. In person.”

You shrink. “I don’t think I can face him yet.”

“I’m not saying today.” He pauses. “But eventually, you’ll have to. Because if you don’t, all this?” He gestures vaguely. “It just becomes the story you never got to finish.”

You stare into your tea. “What if he never wants to talk to me again?”

“Then that’s on him,” Jeonghan says gently. “You can’t control that. But you can make sure the version he remembers isn’t the worst one.”

You nod slowly, his words settling like stones in your gut.

Jeonghan gently rests a hand on your shoulder. “You didn’t ruin everything. Not yet.”

You clutch the mug tighter. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe me.” He leans forward. “You said something shitty. He got hurt. But that’s not the end. It only stays broken if you leave it there.”

You bite your lip. “Do you think he’ll ever look at me the same again?”

Jeonghan tilts his head. “No.”

Your heart twists.

But then he adds, “He’ll either look at you and see the one who broke his heart… or the one who was brave enough to hand hers to him.”

You sit on the couch long after the tea goes cold, phone in your lap, your thumbs hovering above the screen. Every version of the message you think of sounds wrong. Too heavy. Too light. Too desperate. Too detached.

But eventually, you settle on the truth.

You type slowly, carefully. No overthinking this time. No jokes to soften the blow. Just your heart, finally laid bare.

«you»: I know you said you need time, and I’ll respect that. I won’t push, but when you’re ready, if you’re ready, I’ll be here.

You read it over once, then again. It still makes your stomach twist, but this time, not from fear. From finality. You press send.

The message delivers.

You stare at the screen for a long minute, hoping it’ll light up with a reply. It doesn’t. You didn’t expect it to.

Jeonghan comes back in with a slice of toast in his mouth and a second plate in his hand. “You do it?”

You nod, eyes still on your phone. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He sits beside you, offering you half of his toast. “Now you wait. And we eat carbs.”

You take the toast. You don’t feel better. But you don’t feel worse, either.

It’s been weeks.

You’ve replayed every second of that fight in your mind more times than you can count. Sometimes you wonder if he’s forgotten you completely. Sometimes you wish you could forget him.

But tonight, curled up in bed with a movie playing quietly in the background, your phone lights up.

«Mingyu»: Café del Sol

«Mingyu»: Tomorrow 3pm

You panic. Your heart is loud in your ears as you try to form a response, eventually settling on a thumbs up reaction, not knowing what else to put.

The next day arrives like a held breath.

You barely sleep the night before. Your stomach is in knots, your hands shaking every time you think about what might happen. What he’ll say. If he’ll even show up.

But when you push open the door to Café del Sol at 2:58 p.m., he’s already there.

He’s sitting at a table by the window, two drinks in front of him—one of them your usual. His fingers drum anxiously on the cup, and he looks up the second the door opens, like he’s been watching for you.

Your heart stutters.

You walk over slowly, like one wrong step might send the whole moment crashing down. He stands as you approach, uncertain, like he doesn’t know if he should hug you or just nod.

You don’t hug. You don’t do anything. Just sit.

There’s a long pause, thick with all the things still unspoken.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says eventually.

“I didn’t think you’d ask,” you answer.

He nods slowly. “I wasn’t going to. At first.”

You look down, then up again. “Thank you. For asking.”

“I didn’t do it to be nice,” he says. “I did it because I don’t want this hanging between us forever.”

You nod. “Neither do I.”

He watches you for a long moment, searching your face like he’s still figuring out how he feels. Then he breaks the silence, voice small.

“You really meant it?”

You blink. “Which part?”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Your breath catches. “Oh. That. Yeah. I meant it.”

He nods, eyes flicking down to his hands. “And everything else?”

You hesitate. “I wish I’d said it better. But yeah, that too.”

He leans back in his chair. Runs a hand through his hair. You notice the faint dark circles under his eyes—like you’re not the only one who’s been losing sleep.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel,” he says finally. “Because everything happened so fast. One second you’re my best friend, and the next… it felt like I didn’t even know you.”

“I know.”

“I liked you before you even figured it out,” he says suddenly. His eyes are steady, serious. “I’ve liked you for a long time.”

You look up, startled. “What do you mean?”

He exhales. “I told myself I didn’t want to ruin what we had. That I didn’t want to cross any lines. But the truth? I didn’t want to let myself want you because the second I did, I knew I’d fall.”

Your heart stumbles.

“Mingyu—”

He keeps going, like he needs to get it out. “You make everything brighter. Easier. And I told myself that was enough. Just being near you. But then it got harder. Because I’d catch myself staring too long. Laughing too much. Wondering what your lips would feel like against mine. Wondering what would happen if I gave in. If I give in now.”

Your breath hitches as silence falls again. But this one feels warmer. Like the tide has shifted.

You whisper, “Are you saying you—”

“I’m saying I don’t want to lose you.” He swallows. “And I think… I know I love you too. I just didn’t want to admit it until you were walking out my door.”

You blink hard. “Mingyu…”

He gives a small, broken laugh. “God, we’re such idiots.”

You smile, watery. “We really are.”

A long moment passes, and then—carefully, slowly—he reaches across the table and takes your hand. His thumb brushes your knuckles, and it feels like the first real breath you’ve taken in days.

“I’m still mad,” he says gently. “Still hurt.”

“I know.”

“But I’m willing to try,” he says, “if you are.”

You nod, tears in your eyes again—but this time they feel different. “I want to.”

He squeezes your hand. “Then we start there.”

The two of you sit there, hands clasped between coffee cups and apologies, hearts still bruised but beating in sync again. And for the first time in weeks, the silence feels like peace.

[solarstranger]

a/n. based on the prompt "i want to go home to my wife” courtesy of @/creativepromptsforwriting (very bkg-coded, i know.) (0.7k)

it’s probably by the tenth sigh of the night—not that anyone’s counting—that poor kaminari finally snaps.

“seriously, dude?”

bakugou, who’s seated across from him with kirishima and sero adjacent to the both of them, only lazily raises an eyebrow in question.

at that, the electric hero pouts. “at least try to pretend you’re having fun.”

a few feet ahead of them—the men collectively chose to be seated at the back of the small dive bar despite kaminari’s protests—the stand-up comedian currently doing a set cracks another joke. an undercurrent of laughter flows across the room, but none of the four contribute to that.

“sorry, denki,” sero starts, a not-so-apologetic expression plastered on his face. “i’m with bakugou on this one.”

the slim, ebony-haired man glances at the stage, “the jokes aren’t landing for me either.”

“aww, come on, you guys!” kirishima, the ever-unfailing saint that he is, pipes up with a borderline overcompensating grin. “let’s just stay for a while longer for denki, alright?”

sero shrugs in response, but turns in his seat toward the stage anyway. bakugou, on the other hand, only grumbles before reaching for his phone in his right pocket.

thumbing his password under the table, his fingers click on the messages app, then to his number one favorite contact.

for a second, he debates whether or not to shoot you a text. you were so excited to finally get started on that anime you’ve been meaning to watch, that you almost seemed like you didn’t care that he was leaving you home for the night to hang out with the guys.

biting on his lip, he absentmindedly goes through your last exchange before finally deciding fuck it.

while typing out a well-crafted message, his eyes dart between his screen to his friends then back down again, trying to seem inconspicuous.

the last thing he needs is for the bored tape hero to tease him with that annoying ass shit-eating grin of his.

reading through it one last time, bakugou finally presses the send button.

much to his delight, it doesn’t even take you a minute to reply.

(8:43 PM) baby 🧡: heey! i’m still watching—am on episode 5 now. hbu? aren’t you busy with the boys?

the smile he wasn’t aware he’s been sporting immediately drops when he’s reminded of the predicament he’s in. peering back up at the front, he has to fight the groan that threatens to bubble from his mouth when another performer goes up.

oh, well. at least you’re texting him right now.

he quickly types out his response.

(8:45 PM) me: Busy being fucking tortured. This is the worst night ever.

“yo, bro, who got you smiling like that?”

bakugou whips to glare at the culprit, who’s now wearing the very same shit-eating grin he’s just been thinking about avoiding a few moments ago.

pocketing his phone, bakugou snarls at the man. “shut the fuck up. all that doom-scrolling is rotting your fucking brain.”

“i think you getting the reference says something about you, too, bakubro,” kirishima offers from beside him.

bakugou shoots the redhead a menacing scowl, which the unbreakable hero accepts in stride.

“are you guys even listening?” comes kaminari’s whine.

“sorry, denks,” sero replies, before turning to regard the rest of the group. “i thought we agreed to stop doing these guys’ night outs? none of us are as good at planning get-togethers as mina.”

at that slightest bit of opening, bakugou takes the opportunity and moves to stand up, grabbing his wallet and car keys before inserting them in his back pocket, surprising the three men.

before any of them can say a single word, though, bakugou tries to shrug nonchalantly, muttering his simple explanation.

“what was that?” came sero’s teasing tone.

“i want to go home to my wife, idiot,” bakugou barks before he can stop himself.

at that, kaminari finally throws his hands up in defeat.

kirishima only shrugs himself, “that clicks.”

while the menace snickers. “simp.”

˗ˏˋ while likes are appreciated, they don't do much on tumblr! if you want to support me and writers in general, reblogs, replies, and tags are the way to go. feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat. have a nice day! ´ˎ˗

[maudie-duan]

Summary: The classic mirror selfie with you and your boo, just as you're about to snap the pic, your bestie texts you, questioning Harry's abilities...in bed.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My thoughts last night scrolling through Tumblr after a storm woke me up at 3a.m. No biggie...But here you go. Happy weekend!!

Warning: Just nothing but bathroom smut. Have at it!

It was just supposed to be a quick selfie, the two of you standing in front of the mirror, and there you were, one hand brushing your teeth the other opening the camera on your phone. Harry straightens slightly, continuing to casually brush his teeth, and inches closer so you’re both in frame, and just as your about to tap the capture button, a notification rolls in:

SHAY: Dude, there’s no way he made you come that many times.

And shit, your thumb is already pressing the shutter, it’s too late, and the selfie freezes on the screen capturing a single moment in time, and you peer down at it, Harry’s eyes angled directly at your screen. You’re eyes catch in the mirror and he blinks, then blinks again, and you swear the way his eyebrow twitches that he for sure saw the text.

When you look back at the picture, his gaze is frozen, laser-focused on your phone screen, pupils sharp with interest

And that’s when the silent panic sets in.

You should have swiped the notification off your screen the second you felt the buzz in your hand, but you didn’t. Your brain was slow this morning, tired, a stupid sludgy mess, lagging a beat behind, and your mortification only seemed to make it worse.

Instead of acknowledging anything you stand there, toothbrush buzzing, opening the text you know he just saw, feigning ignorance as if nothing happened. From the corner of your eye Harry doesn’t move, as his silence hold you in the mental war raging within you, him continuing on as if you can pretend reality isn’t happening, and the second you put your phone down on the counter it buzzes again.

Nonchalantly you lean forward and spit, eyes avoiding Harry, and you turn, meaning to play it off, but when you meet his eyes in the mirror you catch the devious little curve of his mouth, his dimple’s dipping deeper now, like a warning.

“So you saw that, huh?” you try, voice wobbly and full of foamy toothpaste.

He huffs out a laugh, not even bothering to look away. “Didn’t know you were telling our business to the world, darling.” He drags out the last word, almost making it sound like a challenge, his accent syrupy and slow, with the faintest hint of smug, watching you in the mirror like it’s a live feed of your embarrassment.

And this is when you wanted to crawl into the sink and die. “It’s not—” you say, then cut yourself off, sputtering, trying to find the right word in case he’s mad, “It’s not like that. It’s just Shay. I tell her everything, you know that.”

Harry spits, then rinses his mouth, and shakes his head with a disappointed little click of his tongue. “Oh, baby. Baby, baby.” and he leans forward until his chin is resting on your shoulder, eyes dark with a playful glint. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He keeps shaking his head, like he’s truly heartbroken, but his hands are all over you, fingertips pressing into the fabric at your waist, just above your ass, and maybe you should be more embarrassed, but fuck, it’s the way he’s looking at you—hungry—his fake-scold nature making your skin prickle in a very different way.

One that’s turning you on. You’re heart already racing under his touch,

“Why?” you question, because the word is there on your tongue and it’s the only thing your melting brain can manage.

He grins. “Because now I’ve got to teach you a lesson.”

You snort, accidentally spraying a fine mist of toothpaste all over the mirror. “Oh yeah? Gonna ground me? Take my phone away?” you taunt, mocking him, but your voice comes out smaller than you meant it to.

He takes the toothbrush from your hand, sets it on the counter with a little clatter, and grabs your chin so your eyes can’t go anywhere, his face your whole focus. “No, love,” he coos, with a false-sweetness that sends a flutter to the pit of your stomach, “not gonna ground you. Gonna bend you over this fucking counter and make you beg for it. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

And there’s no time to process his words before he’s moving, sliding his big palm down your back, guiding you forward until your hips knock against the edge of the sink. Your breath catches as your knees threaten to buckle, and He crowds in behind you, pressing his hips to your ass, and holy shit, there’s nothing subtle about the way he’s already hard for you, thick through the soft fabric of his shorts, perfectly lined up, not a trace of shame to be seen.

Because you can see all of it in the mirror: the heat blooming in your cheeks, the way Harry’s green eyes track every movement, the way his hands flex with a possessive grip around your hips, and then he pushes the hem of your t-shirt up, exposing your bare skin to the chill of the bathroom air, and his breath halts for a sharp second, just a little, just enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

“Don’t think you’ve ever looked more gorgeous than you do right now, love.” he says, his voice low and honest, and dammit, the compliment has you aching in places that have nothing to do with vanity, but everything to do with him, and how badly you want him.

He doesn’t bother with the games, no getting you ready, just hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with one swift motion, pooling them to your knees, and you let out a shocked, involuntary gasp, the humiliation making your pussy pulse even harder, and he yanks your shirt up, the material just above your waist, leaving your entire ass exposed, and you want to whimper, you do, but you bite down on your lip instead, trying to fight the fear that’s rising.

Harry’s fast, and he bends down, trailing his mouth along the curve of your spine, licking a long, slow stripe up to your neck, with a primal hunger that has your clit throbbing, and when he bites your shoulder, gentle but pointed, he does it again, harder this time, just to prove he can. “If Shay wants the details,” he breathes, lips pressed to your ear, “We might as well give her something worth talking about.”

Stunned, you choke on a laugh that turns into a moan as his hand slips between your legs. His fingers rough and confident, always a little too big, and christ, it’s so unfair how good at this he is. It should be a fucking crime, because as soon as he rubs you with the heel of his palm, knowing exactly how much pressure you need, it makes your knees tremble, you standing there becoming this weak puppet, ready to do anything he says and the whole time he’s watching you in the mirror, making you watch yourself come apart.

And it’s sick, so fucking, sick, but you want more.

When you meet his gaze, shuddering, his smile widens, all teeth and mischief. “Want you to see what I do to you,” he says, punctuating the sentence with a swift flick of his wrist that has your vision blurring for a second.

You try to turn your face away, to bury it in your arms, but he grabs your jaw, forcing your head back up. “Eyes on the mirror, love,” he orders, soft but dead serious.

Of course, you obey, because you always do, and he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, fucking you with just his hand, the other steadying you at the hip. He moves slow at first, drawing out every tiny noise you make, then picks up his speed until you’re grinding down against his palm, desperate for more, gasping each time his thumb finds your clit.

“Harry, please—” you gasp, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for. More? Less? All of it? Because your head is still spinning, a fucking muddled mess of want and need tangling together until you can’t form a single coherent thought, because it’s only him, and he’s all that you need in this very moment.

This draws a laugh from Harry,a low rasp filling the space, and he pulls his hand away as your body goes limp, and you nearly collapse from the sudden loss.

“Turn around,” he says, and you do, stumbling on shaky legs, but he catches you, lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, and spreads your legs open with his hands on your knees. He’s between your thighs in a heartbeat, not even pretending to hide his hunger as you cage him in.

He peels the shirt off over your head, tosses it aside, and then you’re just—naked. Completely. Sitting on cold stone of the sink with your thighs splayed, dripping and humiliated, wanting him so badly you can’t even see straight.

Harry kneels down, spreading your legs wider, and runs his tongue up the inside of your thigh. “Open up for me,” he directs, and you do without pause, because you’re past the point of dignity, and it’s everything, his mouth hot and soft, a shocking contrast to the cool air, and he licks you like it’s his favorite thing in the world, and maybe it is because he never seems to fail you. And when he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue with quick, ruinous strokes, it’s too much, too fast, and you hold your breath, thinking you’re going to lose it—

And fuck, you do, you do, you, do, because you’re coming, hard, almost instantaneous, grabbing at the fucking edge of the counter for dear life so you don’t scream, but Harry doesn’t stop, just keeps working you until you’re quiver, begging, nearly crying for mercy, forcing his head away with shaking hands as he leaves you with a minty tingle.

Then he stands, mouth slick and wet, eyes wild like the beast you’ve made of him. “Gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with pride as he shoots you a cunning smile, as if he’s giving himself a pat on the back.

You can barely articulate your thoughts, but somehow you manage to say, “You’re such an asshole.”

This makes him laugh, and he drags the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, but you love it.”

And there’s no question about it because you do. God, you do, and he kisses you, tongue still minty from the toothpaste, and slides his hand up your side, fingers curling around your breast, squeezing until you let out a hushed moan.

“Bend over,” he tells you, more indulgent this time, but with a command you can’t refuse, because why would you at this point.

You slid off the counter, trembling, and braced yourself on the sink, the mirror right in front of you, reflecting you back in a light you rarely saw yourself in, and you can’t help but stare, taking yourself in, and maybe before there would have been a shyness, a subtle shame creeping beneath the surface, but the longer you stare the more you love it, feeling sexy, invinceable under his gaze as he pressed the length of his cock to your back, and you felt it—hot and heavy, so fucking ready it’s almost obscene. The feelings rising within you.

You watched as he lined himself up, not even pretending to be gentle, and without warning he pushes inside you in one achingly slow and stretching stroke. You gasp through the pain, gripping the sides of the sink so hard your knuckles turn white, god He’s so thick, it’s always felt like too much at times, but you want it, want him to take what he wanted, take you, take everything.

Have it all, because you were his now, a pawn in a lesson you had to learn.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the word muffled against the flesh of your shoulder. “God, you feel incredible.”

And it doesn’t take him long to set a brutal rhythm, thrusting hard and deep, each movement forcing your hips up against the cool marble, that was sure to mark your skin. The sounds that echoed in the space were filthy, slick and wet and loud enough to pierce the walls, and just when you felt yourself slipping Harry grabbed hold of your hair, yanking your head back so you would have to look at yourself, have to see the way your mouth dropped open, the way your eyes fluttered with every thrust as he bucked himself into you with no end in sight.

“You’re mine,” he forced, voice hot in your ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And you nod, too far gone to answer as he fucks you harder, pushing you right to the edge, not letting up even when your whimper turned to pleads.

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours, Harry, fuck—baby don’t stop”

Like the good girl you were, he rewards you by reaching down, rubbing your clit in rough circles, and this had you losing it again, coming so fucking hard that your vision goes white, and that’s just what he needed because he follows a second later, grinding his hips against you, and moaning out your name as if it were a blessing and a curse, collapsing onto your back as he comes inside you.

And for a long, quiet moment, all you could hear was your labored breaths mingling, and ragged as the distant hum of your electric toothbrush vibrated on the counter.

Harry pulled out with a breathy laugh, leaving you hollow as he turns you around so you’re facing him. He lifts you back onto the counter, forcing himself between your shaky legs, and hugs you so tight you almost can’t breathe as his head falls to your shoulder, and he holds you, your bodies sweaty and spent, but it feels good, it feels right.

“Next time,” he says breaking the silence, his voice muffled, “tell Shay it was four times, not three.”

And you start to laugh, helpless and sated, and he grins into your neck, his gentle hand splayed over your belly like he’s marking his territory.

“Lesson learned,” you breathed, and his smug smile is back in full swing, evidence that Harry is already planning your next punishment.

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @harryyloverrr @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden @spinninc @iloveharrystyles04 @mema10 @avas-queen-black @starshollowgazette @practistyles

Other One-Shots<-

[cherryrikis]

EVERYTHING BUT NOTHING

PAIRING football captain bf jake x fem reader

WARNINGS swearing, arguments, jake makes a singular joke about killing himself

GENRE angst

SYNOPSIS jake is just the nicest guy, everyone knows that. and he’s even sweeter as a boyfriend rather than an acquaintance. even after an argument, you could never stay mad at him for long. but you question that when you hear him talking about you after school.

read part 2 here ?

“are you gonna talk to jake? i know that argument was pretty intense, but you’ve gone a week with no contact.” yuna asked as she tilted her head, standing by your locker while she waited for you to grab your belongings.

“eventually, yeah. i was thinking today after school. the thing with jake though, he either shuts down, or acts like it never happened whenever i want to talk about an argument.” you sighed.

it’s true. as open as jake may appear to be, it’s all but factual. you could never have a real talk with your boyfriend, because he hated confrontation. avoided it entirely.

typically, you don’t let arguments get in the way of your relationship. especially since living together is hard if you’re having frequent conflicts. it wasn’t too much of a problem now though, since he’s been staying at jay’s. but when you brought up the fact that he’s been spending too much time at practice, and that he always forgets your dates, jake let it all out.

it shouldn’t have been as big of a problem as it was. you just wanted to talk. but he finally argued back.

“i get it. sohee is exactly the same! don’t stress though. i know jake is a good guy, he’ll come around.” she smiled. “now let’s go to class? passing period is almost over, and yizhuo has been saving our seats.”

the lecture seemed to go by faster than usual. you were nervous as you steadily approached jake’s locker, which was directly outside his last class.

but when you heard his oh too familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks. you felt your heart sink to the floor as your stomach dropped.

“god. guys, don’t ever get a girlfriend. i’m bounded to long walks on the beach and dinner dates till i die. y/n’s demanding too much of me. i might just kill myself one day.” jake sighed.

“okay but dude, your girlfriends cool and all yet she’s lowkey uptight.” you heard heeseung say as he slapped jake’s shoulder.

“yeah man, you’ve been missing too much practice for your dates now. coach is getting upset. i saw yours and y/n’s texts the other day, and she micromanages you a lot. blink twice if you need help.” sunghoon joked as the three of them laughed out loud.

“i know, i know. i love y/n, but i cannot with her lately. thank god jay let me crash at his after the argument, because i couldn’t live with her constant nagging. she’s so fucking annoying.” he snickered. but, all their faces fell once they saw you.

you slammed jake’s locker door shut with so much force, your hand turned bright red. him and sunghoon flinched harshly, while heeseung and jay had no reaction.

your face ran hot, you felt it as you tightly closed your eyes, holding back the urge to burst out crying. the glass tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

but one look at his desperate eyes filled with regret, and you tipped over the edge. your salty tears spilled out, past your lashes.

you sniffled as you continued to cry uncontrollably, staring at their flustered faces. jake reached out to wipe your face, but you pushed his hand away, wiping the tears yourself.

“you fucking asshole.” you whispered. “i came here to apologize. but you can’t leave it be.”

“y/n..” his eyes softened, voice faltering as his words were laced with regret and shame. he reached out for you once more, but you stepped back.

the distance between you two physically and emotionally only continued to grow. “baby, just let me talk. like you wanted.” he pleaded, begging, almost.

“i.. hate you.. how could you ever talk about me like that? i never once would even think about saying something like that about you, like you did me.” you scoffed, looking behind him as you finally realized his friends left the scene.

you watched as his eyes watered, with one last attempt of trying to reach you. but he knew you were untouchable in this moment.

“sweetheart?” he watched as you began to walk backwards, away from him.

but you didn’t let up, still hurt. you shook your head, silently telling him no.

with every step you took backwards, jake moved forward, before finally grabbing your wrists tightly so you can’t leave him.

“it costs nothing to be a sweet guy, like the version everyone sees of you. but it takes everything to be an asshole.” you mumble, before pushing him away, finally and surely leaving out the school’s glass doors.

and jake remained there, his regret suddenly transferred into anger. he kicked his locker, watching the metal rattle.

he hated how his such childish and immature words cost nothing yet everything.

“fuck..” he muttered.

“fuck!” jake said once more, but louder, yelling it out loud.

he watched out the window as you walked towards the parking lot, before getting into your car and leaving without a second thought.

“please don’t leave me.” he whispered as his vision turned blurry.

“please don’t leave me..”

[lady-luckk]

mini bios for yandere sugar daddy harem

# pairing: yandere sugar daddy harem x sugar baby reader

# synopsis: exactly as the title says. expands more on the personality of the eight weirdos obsessed with you.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# note: i decided to make bios for all of these dudes. mainly bc we both needed a way to keep track of them 💀. so hope this helps!! also part 2 is basically almost done I just need to edit it!!! likes, commemts, and reblogs are appreciated.

elijah:

elijah is friendly but disconnected. he treats most people like background characters in the love story he’s built in his head. he’s polite, even charming at times, but rarely genuine. conversations with him tend to feel one-sided—he’ll smile, nod, and drift off mid-sentence, lost in daydreams. he struggles to form deep connections with anyone who isn’t you because, to him, no one else really matters.

he lives in a fantasy where you’re already his and nothing else matters. he sees the world through the lens of a love story he’s written in his head. with others, he’s warm but shallow—polite only because it’s expected. he rarely remembers details about people who aren’t you. to you, he’s intense and unwavering. he talks like your connection is fate, like you’re both destined. he’ll plan imaginary dates months ahead, leave poems under your pillow, and whisper about the life he sees in your eyes—whether you believe in it or not.

with others: elijah smiles politely, but there’s distance behind his eyes. he listens, nods, but rarely contributes. when asked about his life, he redirects or offers vague pleasantries. he’s present, but never engaged. with you: his demeanor shifts completely—more focused, more intense. every word you speak is absorbed like gospel. he hangs onto your sentences, responds with long, flowery monologues about the life he envisions with you. your presence seems to anchor him.

his quirk: he writes love letters he never sends and keeps them in a shoebox labeled “someday.” sometimes he narrates imaginary conversations with you under his breath, like he’s practicing for a future that only exists in his head.

“they’re just… thoughts i needed to get out. i don’t need to send them—you’ll feel it anyway, right? i already say it all to you in my head. you always listen there.”

lucas:

lucas keeps people at a distance. he’s quiet and observant, choosing his words carefully if he bothers to speak at all. he doesn’t care for small talk or socializing. coworkers and acquaintances often describe him as cold or standoffish, but he doesn’t mind. he doesn’t waste energy on people who don’t serve a purpose. control and order are his priorities—his environment, his schedule, his emotions, all tightly managed.

he moves like a shadow—calm, reserved, and constantly watching. he’s cold and clipped with most people, only speaking when necessary and never indulging small talk. he keeps a tight inner circle and doesn’t let anyone in, except for you. around you, he softens, though never fully. he doesn’t smother; he lingers. he notices everything you do and makes quiet adjustments to your life without asking—changing locks, moving furniture, replacing things he thinks aren’t good enough. he doesn’t say “i love you”—he says, “you’re safest with me.”

with others: lucas keeps interactions short. he answers questions in clipped sentences, avoids eye contact unless necessary, and never lingers in conversation. people find him cold, hard to read, and quietly intimidating. with you: he becomes grounded, but not exactly softer—just more fixated. he watches you closely, notices the smallest changes in your tone or posture. he doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s always about you. his silence with you feels intentional, like he’s claiming space by being near.

his quirk: he keeps every item that reminds him of you: receipts, empty cups, hair ties, notes. he has a drawer full of these “souvenirs,” and he’ll occasionally pull one out just to stare at it and smile like it’s sacred.

“yeah, i kept the receipt from that one cafe. you said something that day, i don’t remember exactly what, but it made me feel like… like i mattered. i just didn’t want to forget it.”

nathan:

nathan is introverted and soft-spoken. he’s not the type to make waves or assert himself in social situations. he’s often quiet, preferring to observe rather than participate in conversations. he struggles with making small talk and is prone to second-guessing himself in social settings. despite his shyness, he’s deeply empathetic and attentive to the needs of others. when he does speak, it’s often thoughtful and sincere. he’s the kind of person who remembers small details about people’s lives and shows genuine concern for their well-being, even if he doesn’t always know how to express it.

nathan is all nerves under a polished exterior. he tries to seem confident, but his need for reassurance bleeds through in every conversation. with others, he’s friendly and eager to please, but quick to fold under pressure. he tries too hard to be liked. to you, he’s clingy and full of need—checking in constantly, hanging on every word you say. he memorizes your routines and waits for your cues to feel okay. he gifts you things impulsively, overcompensating for the fear that he’ll never be enough to keep you.

with others: nathan tries hard to please—overlaughing at jokes, offering help even when it’s not needed. he often apologizes for things he didn’t do. his nervous energy is palpable, and people walk over him without realizing it. with you: he’s still nervous, but in a quieter, more vulnerable way. he constantly seeks your approval, asking if you’re okay, if you’re happy. there’s a tremble in his voice when he compliments you. he watches your reactions like they’ll tell him if he’s enough.

his quirk: he bakes when he’s anxious—muffins, cookies, banana bread—and always “accidentally” brings too much, leaving a fresh batch at your door with a shy note. it’s his way of saying what he can’t out loud.

“i, uh… i didn’t know if you were having a rough day or not, but, um, muffins help me, so… maybe they’ll help you too? no pressure or anything. just… eat one if you want.”

kai:

kai is intense. with others, he’s unpredictable and moody, never staying in one lane long enough for anyone to get comfortable. he lashes out quickly when he feels disrespected, but softens just as fast when someone shows him care. most people find him draining or confusing. he craves closeness but pushes people away the moment they get too near. he struggles with boundaries and doesn’t know how to regulate his emotions in public or private.

he's like a whirlwind. he’s charming and magnetic one second, distant and sharp the next. his mood swings keep people at arm’s length—no one knows where they stand with him. to you, he crashes hard. he’s constantly seeking emotional intensity, starting fights just to feel close, apologizing with tears and bruised knuckles. he touches you like you’ll disappear and speaks like every word might be his last. you’re his grounding point in a life he can’t control, and he’ll burn down anything he thinks is pulling you away.

with others: kai shifts gears quickly—one moment charming and charismatic, the next cold and distant. he gets bored fast, lashes out when people don’t keep up with him. most avoid getting too close. with you: you’re the exception. his volatility still exists, but it bends toward you. when you’re happy, he’s euphoric. when you’re annoyed, he spirals. his emotions run through you like a wire—tension building and releasing in waves.

his quirk: he changes his phone wallpaper to a different candid picture of you almost daily. sometimes it’s from a night you barely remember; sometimes it’s one he shouldn’t have. he’ll show it off or hide it depending on his mood.

“don’t laugh. you looked insane in this pic—like, wild—but i can’t stop staring at it. i don’t even remember taking it. you’re just… always there, even when you’re not.”

matthew:

matthew appears kind and dependable. people trust him quickly—he knows how to make others feel safe, like he has everything under control. but there’s a quiet authority to him that makes others hesitant to cross him. he doesn’t tolerate disrespect, and he doesn’t forgive easily. most people see him as stable and responsible, unaware of how calculating he really is. he prefers being in charge, even if it means subtly manipulating those around him.

matthew speaks in calm, measured tones and carries an air of quiet authority. others find him intimidating—he rarely smiles and doesn’t entertain nonsense. he watches people like they’re puzzles he’s already solved. to you, he becomes meticulous, attentive, and possessive under the guise of care. he manages your schedule, your diet, your space, always claiming it’s for your good. he runs you a bath before you realize you need it, lays out your clothes, installs tracking on your phone. he believes love is control—and he loves you more than anything.

with others: matthew is measured, efficient. he rarely explains himself. people follow his lead because it’s easier than pushing back. he’s polite, but there’s a subtle threat behind his courtesy. with you: the control remains, but it softens into caretaking. he adjusts your routine, checks your schedule, reminds you to eat. his concern feels clinical at times, but there’s a clear emotional undercurrent—like you’re the only thing he wants to keep orderly.

his quirk: he’s obsessive about timing and schedules, especially when it comes to you. he sends you reminders to eat, texts you your own calendar, and gets slightly agitated if your routine shifts—even if it’s out of your control.

“you always forget to drink water. and sleep. and eat. i’m not being controlling—i just… someone has to care enough to remember for you. i don’t mind. i like doing it.”

leo:

leo tends to avoid others when he doesn’t feel secure. he’s awkward in group settings, easily overwhelmed, and quick to retreat if he senses rejection. people often see him as overly sensitive or dramatic. he needs a lot of reassurance, which makes him exhausting to those who don’t know how to handle emotional intensity. he’s the type to attach quickly and panic when he feels alone.

leo wears his heart on his sleeve, overly emotional and endlessly attached. he’s erratic with others—too talkative, too eager, too sensitive to criticism. he gets overwhelmed easily and withdraws when people don’t respond how he wants. to you, he latches on like you’re the only safe place in the world. he calls multiple times a day just to hear your voice. he gets anxious when you don’t respond quickly and spirals into panic if you’re distant. he thrives off your attention, melts under your praise, and breaks without your comfort.

with others: leo tries to be liked, but his energy feels off-putting. he interrupts, overshares, and tries too hard to connect. people are polite, but they rarely stay close. with you: he quiets down—not because he’s calmer, but because he’s overwhelmed by how much he needs you. he lingers near you constantly, asks where you’re going, when you’ll be back. he holds onto your words like they’re lifelines.

his quirk: he sends you voice notes constantly—rambling thoughts, updates, sweet nothings. sometimes he talks just to feel close to you, whispering half-asleep confessions at 3am that he forgets to delete.

“i know it’s a lot but… sometimes it feels like you’re right there when i talk. and if you listen, you’ll know how much i miss you. even when i say dumb stuff like, ‘i saw a cloud shaped like your face.’”

xavier:

xavier commands attention in every room he enters, even when he says nothing. people respect him, but they don’t trust him. he’s intimidating without trying to be, always a few steps ahead of the conversation. he doesn’t bother pretending to like anyone. relationships are strategic—useful or discarded. he keeps everyone guessing, never reveals his full hand, and always has a plan in motion. people fear him more than they admire him.

xavier is sharp, composed, and intimidating. he commands attention in any room, and people either admire or fear him. he’s cold, dismissive, and rarely shows emotion—unless it’s anger. to you, he’s quietly intense. he studies you like a project, always ten steps ahead. he knows your habits better than you do and manipulates situations to make you more reliant on him. he touches you deliberately, speaks in low tones meant only for you. you’re his obsession, his prize, and he’ll bend the world to keep you close.

with others: xavier commands attention without effort. people watch their words around him, knowing he misses nothing. he’s sharp, confident, and not afraid to assert control in subtle, unsettling ways. with you: he shifts from sharp to sharp-eyed. his control tightens but becomes quieter. he touches your lower back in public, speaks for you in conversations, watches you instead of others. his attention is constant, and it’s absolute.

his quirk: he keeps a hidden notebook filled with hypothetical timelines—vacations, homes, investments, life goals—all built around you. he updates it weekly and treats it more seriously than his actual job.

“it’s not weird. it’s preparation. people waste time waiting for things to happen. i don’t. when you finally say yes, i’ll already know the best city, the house layout, the name of the dog. efficiency.”

damien:

damien is a ghost in most social situations. he speaks only when necessary, watches everything, and gives nothing away. people find him unsettling, like he knows something they don’t. he’s not rude—just distant, clinical, unreadable. he rarely forms connections and prefers to work alone. others might describe him as obsessive or odd, but they don’t really know him well enough to say for sure. he’s a shadow in the background—always listening, always calculating.

damien is calm, quiet, and almost forgettable in a crowd. he keeps to himself, doesn’t make waves, and most people barely register his presence. he likes it that way. to you, he’s dangerously devoted. he watches everything—your expressions, your silences, the way your hands move. he collects moments and records memories like evidence in a case only he understands. he doesn’t ask for love—he prepares for it. he leaves little traces of himself in your life: notes in your books, your favorite snack already stocked, your broken things fixed without a word. he doesn’t need you to say you’re his—he already knows.

with others: damien is unnoticed by most. he blends into the background, observing everything without being seen. when people speak to him, they forget the conversation by the time they walk away. with you: his presence becomes focused, unignorable. he knows your habits, your patterns, your silences. he anticipates your needs before you voice them. he’s quiet still—but now, it feels like he’s everywhere at once.

his quirk: he records audio of your conversations without you knowing—not for anything sinister, just so he can replay your voice when you’re not around. he names the files after your moods that day: “laughing,” “quiet,” “tired but sweet.”

“your voice changes when you’re tired. it’s softer. quieter. i like that version of you. no one else gets to hear it but me.”

[twistedpink]

ex!Malleus 👽👽 he's such a lovey dovey i wonder what he's like when he loses the only one who loves him!

Ho did you twist the knife??

Ex!Malleus almost feels an.. Entitlement towards you, it’s probably the reason for your breakup. Sure, it’s hot to be protective, and it’s sweet to be clingy, but when he starts following you to events when he knows it’ll isolate you? Not cool, dude. Of course you want to fix his reputation! You want him to have friends! But it’s not within your job description to lose all of yours for the sake of being alone together. When he talks about marriage and living away from the public, it makes you itch with anxiety,, You need an out. Of all the people you didn’t expect to give it to you, it’s Lilia that encourages you to break the news.

Ex!Malleus goes INSANE when you break up with him- What do you mean? What did he do wrong? Even if he’s begging you for the answer, do not. Under ANY circumstance hit him with a “it’s not you, it’s me”. He just won’t accept it either way, but especially if you blame yourself. You can hear lightning strike in the distance after you walk away, hopefully for the last time- And for once, it’s not your problem. You watch it dance with a smile on your face,, Not to be malicious, but because you’re not scared of it anymore.

Ex!Malleus is going through every stage of grief, give or take a few steps because nothing makes sense anymore, and nothing matters since you’ve left- As a professional yearner, he prays for your affections to magically be returned. This multiplies by at least 100 once you get a new partner.. Suddenly you can’t go out on dates because of freak weather conditions, concentrating on their dorm,, How odd. If you were ever to confront him, he’d take it as an apology rather than a scolding,, It’s probably best to avoid him anyways. He’ll get over it eventually.

Ex!Malleus is always keeping tabs, just in case there’s some way to woo you back- Years pass, you change partners, and interests. You’re not the person he was dating anymore, not even the one who broke his heart, and that’s okay! He’s only ever wanted you, regardless of the form you take :)

Ex!Malleus doesn’t grow bitter, or to resent his love. Doesn’t regret that you were so kind- If anything, he’s mad that even with his status and wealth, he couldn’t keep you happy. At least, not enough to stay. He watches you grow older from afar. You smile, cry, the crinkles around your eyes deepen. The wisdom of your gaze becomes boundless, they’re much more beautiful than before in his opinion, though they’ve always been gorgeous. He visits you once you’re close to the end, he worries the next time he checks that a hundred years will have passed, and he can’t have that. He meets your husband- Maybe not for the first time, if you met someone at school. Any sense of feeling boils down to a simmer — He pops the question.

“Why would you leave when I gave you everything? You certainly would’ve aged more gracefully, owned land beyond your comprehension. You could have loved me, fixed me,”

“It wouldn’t be honest. I loved you, but things pass. People change.”

He wants to cry and curl up, to hold and kiss you and envelop your thoughts as you do his. He feels completely childish, he’s never been so weak.. He doesn’t have that right. Not anymore.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

He flies off into the night, to do whatever 200 year old virgins do.

@bju3c0re

[ikeukiss]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN | 최수빈

⟢ PAIRING: choi soobin x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.3K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: guardian angel!soobin, human!reader, mutual pining, sexual tension, dirty talking, nipple play, chest worship, fingering, unprotected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Soobin, your devoted guardian angel, has one singular purpose in his ethereal existence: to bring your heart's deepest desires to life. Unbeknownst to him, his mere presence fulfills that desire. Yet, the lingering question remains— how can he effectively transform your most intimate dreams into reality? LINK TO PLAYLIST! ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: First fic of 2025! I’d like to thank @lovetaroandtaemin, @chugging-antiseptic-dye, @ylangelegy, @gyubakeries, and @xomakara for beta-reading this fic for me, I know it was a quick journey and I appreciate every one of you who followed the story from the beginning to the end 🤍.

The time fills as plastic shot glasses and empty solo cups discarded into trash bags. Some stragglers of the party lay on the couch or floor, but you pass by them with ease. You sigh before Beomgyu stops you with a sharp tug. "Dude, you don't have to help me. You're supposed to be one of my guests!"

"I'm just avoiding the inevitable tomorrow. And if you come into the shelter late because you procrastinated cleaning your own apartment, I may just kill you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it, boss.” He rolls his eyes and unfurls the empty bag you had between your hands moments before. You giggle in earnest.

“If I get a single text, Gyu–”

“Why don’t you enjoy the early morning hours of New Year's and get out of here?" He shoves you towards the door of his apartment with an "I love you” to follow you out, determined to do what you swear he won't without your help.

Beomgyu may be your childhood friend, but habits hold on tight with him. It’s clear from the three years he’s worked at your animal shelter. Your parents always said he has good intentions, although he’s brash in decision-making. "The kid just asks for forgiveness more than permission most of the time," your dad would joke, and Beomgyu wouldn’t disagree.

Your parents’ words replay in your head on the walk home. You hear every piece of parental advice with each step on the cobblestones, the clack or your heels accompanying every word. It's customary on New Years to feel the ache of their absence so strongly. Your thoughts of them are as vivid as the pain of their loss. It seems to haunt you more with every year that passes.

One day, you had been tagging new intakes and cleaning food bowls like normal. The next you were receiving the call that your parents had been in a fatal car accident. Every space they inhabited, including the shelter, felt colder, quieter, a little less like home. Even your own house twenty minutes from your job barely felt like your own.

Five years of grief made the pain manageable, but on nights like tonight, it doesn’t feel like you’ve made much progress..

The cold of January accompanies the repetitive emotional and mental cycle you're on. The weather bites with a hard set of teeth, almost more brutal than the traces of sadness you feel in your heart.

You don’t realize amid the somber trek home how close the surrounding shadows are, one of a stranger within an arm’s distance.

Your animals greet you at your door with perky barks and whooshing tails. Mina and Minho, your two tabby cats, seem to be delighted that you’re back, but save the ecstatic greetings for their canine siblings. Key, your senior chihuahua, does what he can energy-wise compared to Bori, your labrador mix.

“Bobo, please,” you beg as she jumps up on you when you kneel at her eye-level. It’s all a mess of slobbering tongue and eager pants with her. Once she’s done, you rub Key between the ears to give him some affection.

Even your hedgehog, Rio, taps against the glass of his enclosure to say hello to you. It’s almost like every pair of animal eyes asks you how the party went and why you left them alone for so long.

You can’t supply them with an answer, because you notice the person-shaped figure at your kitchen counter, silent and clouded in darkness. The sight makes you release a decibel-breaking scream.

You grab an umbrella from the iron wrack near your door and charge to the kitchen, expecting Key and Bori to follow you and bark aggressively at the intruder. They don’t, but they do pad behind you in curiosity at your strange actions.

They barely react at all when you turn on the light in the small kitchen. The new illumination reveals the black-haired stranger dressed in white. He says nothing, but holds a smile of mirth on his face at your line of defense. He's neither scrawny nor muscular, but towers over you to a surreal degree. 

You think you can take him if you have the element of surprise, but with the alcohol still buzzing through your veins, you may lack complete hand-eye coordination. It’s anyone’s guess.

“What do you want? If you’re looking for money, you got the wrong house, buddy.” You say with a steady voice, aiming the sharpest point of the umbrella in his direction.

He smiles wide, pearly teeth and a set of dimples almost blinding you. “I’m Soobin.”

His lack of an answer and warm smile throw you off. It’s definitely not the reaction anyone expects from a burglar. Maybe the guy's intoxication is even greater than yours, enabling him to enter someone's home without permission. No matter the reasons, you don’t release your hold on the umbrella. You stare him down hard despite your shaking hands.

“Well…Soobin…I don’t know what you want, but you’re not gonna find it here.”

“I’m in the exact place I need to be.” He says your name with the same level of warmth that remains in his smile, but your blood runs cold at the fact he is aware of who you are. Was he stalking you? Had he stopped by the animal shelter while you were too busy to make a mental note of him? “Put down the umbrella and we–”

“Get the fuck out of my house, you creep!” You raise the umbrella as high as you can before it falls on his head, shoulders, or any location on his body that will stun him. He knows it’s coming, though.

Soobin somehow materializes right in front of you before you can step forward, taking your wrists gently in one hand to stop you. “There’s no need for that. I’m not here to harm you.”

You struggle in his hold, trying your hardest to release yourself from his grip with all of your might. Then, you freeze, unsure of how both his speed and his lack of alarm to your furry animals makes any logical sense.

Soobin senses your lack of effort to go through with your attack and lets go of you, taking a small breath of air. “Will you drop the umbrella?”

“Once you tell me what you are,” you whisper. “My dogs would have ripped off your ankles by now, but they didn’t. Why?”

Soobin chuckles, but you feel anything but humorous. “The why to that question is a bit hard to explain. But I can tell you why I’m here.” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly bashful. “Let’s just say I have a mission to complete.”

Soobin sits at one end of the couch, hands in his lap, while you sit on the other. Your dogs lay at the edge of the couch, snoring peacefully now that the chaos is over. Your knees sit tight against your chest, still guarding yourself from him or any potential advances he may make.

You may not think he wants to kill or rob you anymore, but that doesn’t mean you’re immediately trusting of the stranger. One that is no doubt breathtaking, but still hiding his intentions.

You size him up, still unsure how or why the guy is familiar with you when you’ve never seen him before. He can barely provide you with an adequate answer for the questions that pop into your head.

Where are you from? How do you know me? Have we ever met before?

He chuckles at each one, continuing on with the same reflexive response. “Proprietary information.”

You roll your eyes. “Every time you say that, you sound like some kind of spy.” You move closer to his spot on the couch, looking at him with more intensity than before. 

The analysis makes him laugh even more, his cheeks turning pink. “I’m not an alien, if that was your second guess.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!”

He quirks an eyebrow at you. “You look like you’re about to cut me open with a scalpel.”

Your lips transform into a firm line. “Should I want to, Soobin? Maybe you’re saying you’re not an alien to throw me off.”

“Trust me, I am not an extraterrestrial. Not cool enough.”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous situation you find yourself in, matching the smile on Soobin’s face with your own. An hour ago, you were about to kill him in self-defense for what you assumed was a classic break-in scenario. Now, you’re laughing with your would-be victim. This has to be the most peculiar first day of the year you’ve ever had.

He claps his hands softly on his white denim jeans. “We should call it a night. You’re probably tired. I can explain more tomorrow, if you’d like.”

You look around your house, unsure where Soobin is planning to stay for the next few hours. The one-bed-and-bath cottage is anything but roomy, most of your space taken up by work supplies or your animals’ stuff.

He senses your trepidation and grins. “Don’t worry, I can come back in the morning.”

You suck in a breath. Most of you feels relief, but there’s a small inkling of sadness that pervades your emotions. You barely know Soobin, but his presence provides a warmth that your home has been missing.

It has to be the last traces of alcohol and the simmering grief still in your system.

“Okay. I have work in the morning, but–”

“I’ll be here before you have to leave,” Soobin cuts you off. He holds his hand out in a goodbye, and you take it. His soft palm meets yours and heats your skin, and you have to cut the parting short to not feel any more flustered.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, love.” He leaves you with one more grin before he exits, confusing you further. 

The touch of his fingertips on you follows you into sleep, his skin the last coherent sensation you have before it all goes black.

There is a murky quality to the dream you find yourself in. You’re surrounded by grey, the color’s opacity fading only partly as the details become clearer.

The room around you looks more like a cavern than a traditional room. It’s made of stone, cavelike and primitive. The entrance to the area is too vast for a normal door. It’s almost as if you could step out and fall into nothing but clouds. The world outside is a mixture of inky blacks and dark blues, signifying nighttime outside the four rocky walls.

You look back to the inside of the space. It holds a desk covered with paperwork and photographs. You’re alone, standing in the center of it all, but too far away from the papers on the table to see any information.

Before you can step closer, Soobin enters with a blonde man hot on his heels. They both walk right through you, seemingly not noticing your presence at all as they continue their discussion. 

They emit their own light somehow, the room nowhere near as dark as when you were alone inside of it.

“If you fail at this, Yeonjun will demote you and have no qualms about doing it.” The blonde man ruffles his hair in frustration, and inches closer to Soobin. They clearly have a close relationship, from the concern on the stranger’s face to the hand that he rests on Soobin's shoulder. “You’ve worked too hard to lose everything, Soobin.”

“I know, Hyuka,” Soobin says in a somber tone, sorting through the papers on his desk. “But she needs me now more than ever. And I know I can help. And if I succeed, I can actually—“

“I get it. We’re just not supposed to get involved unless we’re certain about it. You know this.”

Soobin sighs. “You didn’t see her, Kai. I have to.”

The man named Kai exhales a deep breath and walks away, his pleas seeming to hit a brick wall. The last thing he says, “I hope you know what you’re risking,” barely makes it to your ears. All you notice before Kai’s departure is the unfurling of wings from his back, the white and gray feathers spouting from the tendons just below his shoulders.

You scream when he drops from the entrance, his wings carrying him away. You don’t care if the sound alerts either of the two men, not after witnessing such an unrealistic moment.

You scream again when you hear the unfurling of Soobin’s wings, the sound almost whipping you onto your back from the gust his wings emit. They’re dark grey, larger than Kai’s are. They create such long-casting shadows that you have no question now what Soobin is or where he comes from.

The word replays in your mind as the surrounding scene dematerializes and you wake up with a rapid heartbeat: an angel.

Soobin waits at your door in the same white button-up and jeans he had on the night prior. You welcome him inside, and he looks more ethereal somehow in daylight. 

The dream hits you again with its full force, the image of his grey wings flashing across your memory.

“So, you’re an angel,” You say, filling the space between you both with a new tension. The anxiety only permeates from you; Soobin exudes an air of calm instead, despite your accusation.

He almost ticks his head down in a nod as he responds with the words, “Proprietary information.”

You nod your head and gulp hard. Somehow, the aura around you and the subtext in his expression tells you what you know to be true.

He showed you all you needed to know last night through your dreams, a miraculous loophole to the restrictions placed upon him.

When you’re finally ready to go to work, the morning chores around the house finished before Soobin even made it to your doorstep, you look over at the man in front of you again with trepidation. The white attire may lead to a multitude of questions that you and Soobin cannot answer.

“What? Is there something on my face?” Soobin asks, confused.

You laugh and shake your head, any residual tension from your realization broken. “You look a bit too…uniform for the shelter.”

“Oh! Well…” He blushes, unsure how to respond.

An idea pops into your head when his words come up short. “I may have some old stuff that’ll fit you.”

“Why is the rando wearing your dad’s windbreaker?” Beomgyu asks while cleaning Jin, the newest adoptee at the shelter. His eyes peer over at Soobin filling some food bowls with kibble. Soobin’s presence fills the space the same way it did in your house.

He wears your dad’s long-sleeve shirt, windbreaker, and khaki pants well. Despite his freakishly tall height, the clothes don’t look small on him, and you’re relieved he’s able to fit in like any normal guy with the change in wardrobe.

You scoff, continuing to fill out the documents for Jin’s tag and vaccinations without looking up at your friend. “Soobin’s new in town and lost everything on the plane ride here. He just needed to borrow some stuff until his luggage gets delivered.”

Beomgyu nods, still concerned. He goes back to scrubbing Jin’s coat with the anti-tick shampoo, and you leave his spot at the cleaning station to stand beside Soobin.

“You do this every day? These bags are heavy, even for me.” Soobin grunts and clips the bag closed.

“I usually make Gyu or another volunteer do it. But you saved me the trouble of asking.” You smirk and take two of the bowls in your hands. “Want to help me feed the dogs?”

Soobin’s eyes light up, and he nods. You wonder as you walk to the cages if he’s ever interacted with animals before he left his home in the skies.

Since you were a kid, the shelter has always been a part of your daily regimen. Once college was out of the way, you had a stable job waiting for you to practice your veterinary degree on. While some could only handle so many cat scratches, dog poops, and absurd origin stories, it made every day worth it in your eyes. And the fact that you had a history with tending to furry friends with your parents only made it more worthwhile to continue doing.

The second you open the cages to let the dogs eat, you recognize how natural Soobin is at the job. He talks to them in a childlike voice and rubs their bellies as they munch on kibble and necessary medicines you give in between feeding. Even the dogs with the rougher backgrounds take to Soobin like a bee to honey, the warmth he naturally exudes relaxing them.

He truly is an angel, you realize, and not just in the literal sense.

You lock up the shelter for the day with a lot less weight on your shoulders thanks to Soobin. “I might as well give you the keys to this place. It suits you well,” you joke.

Soobin tucks his hands into his windbreaker, smiling hard. “It just came easy, I guess. Animals aren’t like people. They don’t have to hide behind words. It’s all about energy.”

You look at him as you walk away from the building together, your face softened from his words. “My mom always used to say stuff like that. To her, animals were the bestest friends you could ever ask for. She’d say it’s like they see into your soul.”

Soobin grins. “She seems lovely.”

You swallow hard, balling your hands into fists inside your jacket. It’s not anger that permeates your body now, not the way it used to. All that exists is the reality that their words are simply memories. “She was. My dad too. That place was their second home.” You wave your arm in the direction of the shelter. The building diminishes from view as you round the corner to head home. “And mine, too.”

“Did you envision this being your life?” Soobin asks, the question taking you by surprise. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay!” You laugh. “I mean—I love working with the animals every day, and I have great friends. It just can be very routine sometimes, like there’s this gap that I can’t fill.” You hold back the more intimate details of your desires to Soobin, still guarded and uncertain of being so vulnerable so soon.

He steps closer, the walk becoming more intimate with his shoulder almost brushing yours. “You’ve been alone for quite a while. It’s understandable to want to share your life with someone.”

You blush hard, a mixture of the January cold and his correct assumptions building a steady heat on your cheeks. “That’s what most people want, I guess.”

Eyes widening, you realize now why Soobin may be discussing these things with you. Could his super secret mission, which he discussed the night you met, relate to right now?

“No fucking way,” you whisper to yourself, stopping on the stone street. Soobin only gets a few paces farther than you before he stops.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth in a small O that you would normally giggle at.

Now, you have no time for humor.

“Did you come here because of the stupid wish I made on New Year’s Eve?”

“Taehyun, if you give me another shot, I will throw up!” You exclaim in a fit of giggles, three drinks already in your system over the last hour and a half. His girlfriend, Kazuha, stands by your side as she downs the shot in her hand, her mouth puckering as she swallows it down. “Zu, I thought you were the DD tonight!”

“Fuck it, I’ll call an Uber.” She winks and chases the shot with a sip of beer. Beomgyu wades through the throng of people in his living room to join all of you in the kitchen.

“Taking shots without me? That’s a party foul.”

“Whatever, man. It’s not like we can’t make more.” Taehyun passes him one filled with tequila to catch up, and Beomgyu downs it in the next second. By the time the buzz of the drinks hits your head, Jungwon barrels into the kitchen with his own girlfriend Yeri to tell you all that the ball is dropping.

Everyone crowds around the television to watch the remaining minute of the year play out. The strangers around you scream out the last seconds, others speak in a drunken lilt.

You turn to your friends, somehow the only person without someone attached to their hip. Beomgyu is holding a random girl's shoulder, while your other friends stand closely together in their respective couples, watching the countdown..

“Four, three, two, one! Happy New Year!” Beomgyu says the words into his date’s neck before kissing her roughly on the lips. Your other friends have their own celebratory make-out sessions. You feel like an intruder as they all enjoy the moment in their respective couples.

You’ve never been a grouch about your single status, not once. But it felt like a part of you was missing out with little of a choice in the matter. Whether by the confines of chance or love simply not being meant for you for the past twenty-seven years, you can only be comfortable for so long before the pain of solitude drains you dry.

Was it so awful to want to find someone to share funny videos with? To talk to about days at the shelter when a cute animal comes in and needs a loving home? When days are heavy on your heart and you need the one you love the most to lift you up and make it all evaporate with a simple “I love you”? To make every struggle and hardship, no matter how big or small, worth it?

And so, with only a drunken mind and heart to listen to your deepest whims, you wish for what seems the most out of reach as your eyes line with tears: a soulmate to bridge the gap between your loneliness and true fulfillment.

When the reality of why Soobin’s here hits you, you can’t help but release one of the loudest laughs you’ve ever emitted before.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” you say with exasperated breaths, all the air in your lungs saved mostly for your laughter. “You came all the way from up there to play matchmaker?”

Soobin chuckles to himself, the sounds that leave his lips a lot quieter than yours. “You make it sound so childish.”

“Can you blame me?” You ask. “I don’t need help in that department!”

Soobin gives you a knowing look, hitting you somewhere deep in the chest. “Then I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Okay, don’t speak in riddles to me!”

“I’m just stating facts, love.”

You roll your eyes, and Soobin laughs again. “So you’re magically going to find me the perfect partner after only knowing me for 48 hours?”

“I’ve known you for much longer than that.” He steps even closer to you, your fingers brushing his as he stands a few inches from you. “But again, it’s—“

“Proprietary information, I get it,” you whisper. You cough into your fist and glide past him, the moment broken. “Either way, I am just fine with or without a boyfriend, Soobin.”

He follows behind without a word, but you sense his smile without looking at him. Jerk.

Soobin has helped many people in his immortal life. It’s an existence he couldn’t fill in just one book. He’d have to go back centuries to the very moment he started his work as a guardian. His life began long before that, but his true merits came when he started helping those who needed supernatural guidance.

He’s seen from his eagle’s eye view many heartbreaks, losses, successes, and love stories, but nothing as encapsulating as the story of your life.

You were a vision to see the first time you held an animal in your hands, hands tepid but heart full from the creature giving all of its affection to you for you to reciprocate wholeheartedly. He was in awe of you when you stepped across the stage with your degree, eager to put all the knowledge you gained about medicine to a good use. And his ever-still heart ached with yours the second you got that phone call in November five years ago, wanting nothing more than to catch you before your knees hit the tile below.

You’re the one assignment he’s kept too close an eye on, the others in his caseload not holding his focus so strongly. He succumbed to forbidden desires, wishes he knew were unattainable.

But the second he felt your heart break on the one night he knew he could seize the chance to step over the border between Heaven and Earth, he chose the only option that felt right: he had to leave home and heal what needed to be mended inside of you a long time ago.

He watches you help the teenage girl adopting her first pet with immense adoration. 

You check off the supplies needed for Jin and all the vaccines the dog will need moving forward with clinical focus. It’s admirable how dedicated you are to your work, not caring if it went beyond the bounds of a traditional work-life balance.

And when you wave the teenager and her parents out the door and turn to him with a signature eye-roll, he can’t stop the way his skin heats. Your gaze in his direction screams: How long are you going to keep pestering me?

Forever, he says to himself with a hell of a lot of hope.

When you’re both alone in the shelter, one hour after you’re closed for the day, you sweep the floors in a huff. “I am telling you I do not need you to play matchmaker for me.”

“You keep saying that and yet I’m still here, love,” Soobin tuts, flipping through the magazine on top of your desk. He sits at the chair opposite from the receptionist counter so casually, feet crossed and casual despite his heart yearning to explain everything to you.

I’m here because I can’t take any more of your pain. Because someone deserves to know how special you are. Because I—

“I can find a date without your help. Beomgyu already took up that role a long time ago. He’s been pestering me about going out with his friend Heeseung for months. So there.” You stick your tongue out at him and continue sweeping.

Soobin chuckles to himself and flips to another page of the magazine, but he can’t deny how his focus remains on you, the center of his attention, for longer than he expected.

“Lee Heeseung, twenty-two. Works at the ramen shop downtown. Entirely incompatible with you. Just for your information.”

You stop sweeping and aim an accusatory eye at him. “And that’s not proprietary information how?”

“I’m not looking out for him. And that only took a couple of Google searches to figure out, love.”

By the time you lock up the store, Soobin is in the habit of checking the door behind you to make sure you didn’t miss the back door or forget to close the play-gate on the way out. Two weeks of observing your routine up close has given him incredible intel, and not just into your schedule.

“Let’s walk past downtown,” Soobin suggests, taking your hand and walking through a new pattern of alleyways and cobblestone paths. 

You’re unsure why this route that adds another ten minutes to your walk is worth the trouble, but you take his advice, anyway. He’s your angel for a reason, after all.

“Soobin, unless you suddenly got a hankering for human food, we really should—“

You knock into someone’s shoulders hard; the impact sends you to the gravel. Soobin vanishes from view, his name on your tongue the second you recognize that you’re on the ground.

A pair of hands that aren’t Soobin’s, more calloused and robust, lift you up off the ground.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the alleyway.”

A beautiful pair of brown eyes gaze at yours, and it stops you dead in your tracks. The stranger’s brown hair falls over his face in a mess of free curls, some of them tinged with sweat. He wears a baking apron around his waist; flour and, you presume, icing cover his shirt.

You look at the building next to you, the pastel pink sign reading “Gyu’s Baked Goods” beaming over your head. And you turn back to the man in question, the baker himself as his hands keep you sturdy on your scraped feet.

“It’s totally fine. I’m the one who should be sorry. I mean, I wasn’t looking anyway and I—“

“No, you don’t have to apologize. This is what I get for taking a smoke break when I have cupcakes to make, right?” The baker chuckles and releases you. Your heart thumps at a rapid tempo when he holds his hand out to you. “I’m Mingyu. Sorry I’m built like a mountain.”

You chuckle and take his hand, the handshake gentle for the size of his palm. It reminds you of a sturdy fireplace, strong but tender. “Pleased to meet you. Apologies for having the build of a leaf.”

Soobin looks on with a knot in his stomach from an opposite alleyway. The process has begun, and he cannot halt its progress. No matter if he wants to be the one in the human male’s place.

Soobin watches on as Mingyu stands with you by the kennels, acid simmering on his tongue from watching the two of you in such a chummy position.

He clutches the novel in his hands with intense pressure, on the edge of ripping pages between his fingers. For the past week and a half, you and Mingyu have spent time together as new acquaintances, giving Sobbing time to read mortal literature.

He should be happy for you; his initial plan to find someone who fits your life and wishes so well is going perfectly. Yet why does he wish he could rewind time and take it back?

To your pleasure and Soobin’s secret dismay, Mingyu’s surprise gift of homemade mini animal treats made the day an amazing experience for all three of you.

You pay no mind to Soobin’s sudden and off-putting sulking as you show Mingyu around the animal shelter, your new friend interested in your job as much as you’re intrigued by him.

Beomgyu saunters up to Soobin with a bag of kibble in his hands, clicking his tongue. “It’s tough, isn’t it, man?”

Soobin huffs and looks at the younger man, the aura around your friend similar to his back home. If only Kai could see him now, grumbling and pouting like a kicked puppy. 

“What is?”

“Seeing the girl you like with someone else. I mean, she’s pretty great so I get it.”

Soobin rolls his eyes and goes back to the novel in his hands to distract himself. His jaw ticks when he hears your laughter. The sound creates such a beautiful symphony to his ears, but it’s not reserved for him at the moment, and it makes his stomach turn. “You’re wrong.”

“Okay, dude. I get it. None of my business.” Beomgyu lifts the bag over his shoulder and starts walking, but looks back at Soobin with a smirk. “But maybe it might be mutual if you gave it a shot.”

Soobin scoffs at the kid, and then at himself for the split second he entertains the idiot’s idea. Soobin can pine all he wants, but he knows the boundaries. A multitude of reasons prevent this line from ever being crossed.

He may have incredibly powerful feelings for you, but they’re hidden away and unable to reach the light of day. Not just because he has a strategy for you and Mingyu, but he is not an acceptable suitor because he doesn’t belong here, simply put. Earth is only a temporary stay on his list. And when he goes back and reports to Yeonjun of his success, who knows what will happen?

All he knows is that your paths will cross only once in his and your lifetime, and never again.

Soobin almost remains stuck in his misery until you walk up to him with an orange icing-colored dog bone treat in your hands. You hold it out to him with a shy smile. “For you.”

He smirks, taking the snack from you and rotating it between his fingers. “Isn’t this for the dogs, love?”

And the signature eye roll comes, your bottom lip between your teeth as you do it. “They’re organic. Anyone can eat them.” You look back at him directly, suddenly concerned. “You can eat, right?”

He chuckles. Nodding his head, he looks back at the snack. “Just not sure if I’ll like it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Just try it, please?”

Reluctantly, he bites down. Sweet potatoes and carrots, harmoniously blended, flood his mouth. The icing and pinch of cinnamon provides the perfect level of sweetness to round it all out, and Soobin groans. Even the dog treats the guy makes are perfect.

“Okay, it’s pretty great,” Soobin admits, taking another bite. “Even if they’re meant for dogs.”

You laugh and take a tiny corner for yourself. “At least you can say you’ve eaten a dog bone.”

Soobin’s tender smile makes you blush, and it stirs up all the feelings you’ve suppressed when you’re not in his presence. Mingyu’s a welcome distraction from it all. His looks and personality are undeniably attractive, but you always circle back to the angel in your midst.

Who can blame you? He’s ethereal, his magnetism undeniable. But that warmth he’s had from the first day you met is why you can only stay away for so long. He’s a part of your world now, and you can’t imagine that changing in the foreseeable future.

He’s made his place on Earth with you, and you dread the day he has to go back to where he belongs.

The end of January brings the last time for branches to stay vacant of leaves. You notice the small sprouts of leaves amidst the brown limbs as you and Soobin walk back to your house. You bite back a smile, and Soobin comments on it.

It’s like he clenches your heart between his fingers as he says it. “You always hide your excitement like nobody should be watching. Like it’s wrong to be happy about the little things.”

You blush while strolling beside him. “It’s not that I’m hiding it. Maybe I just don’t think anyone will get why I’m happy about certain things.”

Soobin bumps you with his shoulder, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. “Try me.”

You exhale a breath to get your bearings. “Okay, so everyone is always excited about the start of the new year. But then it’s like the excitement dies down and we just go on our merry way until the next holiday comes up. It’s not in the days for me. It’s the environment that always makes me feel the shift, you know?

“Like with animals, almost. The energy is unique, and I feel it when I see the colors and feel the temperature fluctuate.” You shake your head and tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “That may sound stupid, but—“

Soobin stops you on the open sidewalk, taking your hand in his. He looks into your eyes earnestly, wanting you to take his words to heart before he says them. “Nothing you’ve ever said to me is stupid, love. Every thought you have is beautiful because it’s yours.”

Like the town greenery, something shifts inside of you then. Even on the rest of the walk home and the talk over dinner about the day at the shelter, you sense an unfamiliar emotion swirling in the air between you and Soobin. You can’t name it, but it reminds you of the first blooms of spring, brimming with promise.

The first week of February comes in a tidal wave. Many people flood the animal shelter looking for the perfect furry friend to complete their family on the cusp of Valentine’s Day.

All you can hope for is that a majority of them, or at least fifty percent, don’t come back to the shelter after the holiday is over to return the animals looking for forever homes. 

That was the one thing that bugged you the most about this job: biting your tongue at the obvious lack of responsibility people put into owning pets.

It holds more weight than anyone knows, bringing another being in your home to tend to like a child. The only difference is that many of them have histories that deserve more care than normal, and some don’t want to put in the right amount of effort.

You sit on these thoughts as Soobin holds the newest cat to the shelter in his hands. “Have you thought of a name for Mr. Cat yet?” Soobin inspects the spot near the cat’s tail. “Or Missus?”

You giggle and grab the clipboard with the cat’s information on it. “He’s a he, Soob. You can come up with a name.”

He ponders the choices, before his smile grows and he presses his nose to the cat’s. “How about Hyuka?” He rubs the back of the cat’s ears tenderly.

You grin at Soobin and brush your fingers over Hyuka’s fur. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”

Soobin looks over at you with bright eyes, his expression transforming into one that feels like the one you held that day so long ago when he called your thoughts beautiful. A question forms on his tongue, but it flits away the second Mingyu walks through the double doors of the animal shelter with a bouquet of daisies.

At least the jerk knows your favorite flowers, Soobin thinks to himself as he walks with Hyuka back to his block in the back room.

You smile at Mingyu and thank him for the flowers, immediately pressing your nose to them to inhale their smell. “They’re amazing, thank you.”

“My buddy Wonwoo is a florist, so don’t thank me too much. I got a discount even though I should’ve paid full price.”

“Can’t beat a couple bucks off.” You set the bundle down on your desk and cross your arms over the countertop. “I take it you’re not just here to deliver flowers?”

Mingyu chuckles and presses a hand to his neck, his toned biceps stretching out his shirt. “Actually, I was going to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s.”

You stumble on your explanation, discussing the closure of the shelter for the holiday. “Well,” Mingyu starts, “I was thinking you could come by for dinner. And I promise it won’t just be me making you taste test cupcakes again.”

You laugh, but the sound falls flat. You had always been the one pining, yearning for the boy you liked to like you back. Being on the other side of the coin was not exactly ideal. “Mingyu, you know I appreciate you and I am flattered, but…”

Soobin.

You’re unsure how to continue, but Mingyu holds a hand up in understanding. “I get it. How about I make you a meal, anyway? Consider it a friend treating a friend for all of her hard work.”

You blush and nod. “I’d like that very much.”

You’re washing dried-up wet food from the cat bowls when Soobin walks up to you, his face red. By the time Mingyu left, you expected Soobin to come back to your side so you could wash the dishes together. You did it yourself, seeing as he took forever to come back. Soobin asks with a tone of authority, “What the hell are you thinking?”

You poke your cheek with your tongue, contemplating. “I’m thinking Hyuka’s chances of getting adopted before Valentine’s is about—“

“You know that wasn’t what I meant, love.” He says the pet name with annoyance as he drops one bowl into the sink next to you. His tone catches you off guard, not expecting to see Soobin angry for the first time like this.

“You asked me what I was thinking, and I’m telling you.”

“Why did you say no to the date?” Soobin asks, his eyes blazing with fury. Something without a name sits below though, you can tell.

“I, technically, didn’t say no. It’s just more friendly than romantic.”

“Do you expect me to find you another soulmate like this?” Soobin drops another dirty plate in the sink for you to clean up. You don’t know if the question is exactly for you or for himself.

The tension sits thickly in the air, the running tap the only sound for a good minute or two. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you respond, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Your cheekiness makes Soobin chuckle deeply. You missed his laugh, you realize, not hearing the sound in a while. Not since before Mingyu came around. “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

You shrug and go back to washing the bowls, hiding your smile behind soap suds and dishwater.

Soobin’s leg shakes as he sits on your couch, watching the clock on the spot above your door. 10:49 PM. He’s been waiting for hours to welcome you home from your “friendly” date with Mingyu. Admittedly, he’s been waiting since the second you left, the night of Valentine’s Day on the forefront of his brain since he heard the meathead ask you to have dinner.

Minho and Key keep him company, the older animals in your horde understanding and patient while Soobin mopes around. The angel feels as impatient as Bori can be when she has to wait for dinner.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Soobin says to Key, the chihuahua’s overbite hanging almost like a taunt. “I’m not stewing.”

He’s definitely stewing. The animals must be saying to each other, conspiring about what will occur when their mother finally gets home.

And on the cusp of eleven, you walk into the house and unbuckle your heels. You watch Soobin on the couch, his hands fidgeting on his lap. “Have you been sitting there for three hours?” You ask in a cute tone that drives Soobin nuts.

“No, I made the animals dinner.” You set your bag on the iron wrack where your coats lie, and throw your shoes in some corner of the living room before Soobin continues with, “So, how was the date?”

You stride to the mirror, beginning to unclasp the flashy studs in your ears. “It was fine. Nothing special. Just two friends having dinner.”

“That’s all it was? No candles at the table, no romantic music, nothing?”

“Why are you so concerned, Soobin? I went out, I had fun, now I’m home.” Soobin’s not prepared to hear your voice so clipped and direct. Your frustration is usually a mask of humor or concern. Not genuine anger, like right now. You don’t look at him directly, continuing to remove your jewelry as your ire grows.

You try to de-escalate the argument by retreating to the kitchen, but he only follows you there. And moving back into the living doesn’t help either. “Stop following me, Soobin!”

“Stop running away,” he barks back.

“I will when you stop making a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal,” he says with a scoff. “And am I not allowed to worry about you and who you’re with?” He asks with a bite that matches your irritation.

“Why are you so concerned if Mingyu’s the person you wanted to set me up with in the first place?”

“Don’t ask me that question,” he whispers. His jaw tightens and his hands clam up, but you don’t give in. If he wants to finish the discussion, then you’ll continue to press him for an answer.

“Why? What kind of ‘proprietary information’ relates to how you feel about this? What does me going out with Mingyu and you being a complete ass about it have anything to do with top-secret intel?”

“I love you, alright?!” He yells, standing stock still as his veins pulse in his head and neck. His hands go to the messy strands of his hair, almost like he feels himself going crazy at his own confession. “I did not mean to, and it’s awful. I can’t give you the life you deserve. Someone like Mingyu or any other human man would be lucky to have you, yet I can barely stomach the thought of someone else getting to touch you in all the ways I wish I could. And it’s driving me insane.”

The confession knocks something loose inside of you, remaining inhibitions be damned if it means now that the feelings Soobin harbors mirror your own without a doubt. 

You step closer to him, the tension almost too much to bear any longer. You press your hands to his neck, and bring him closer until your lips are a mere inch apart. “Nothing and nobody’s stopping you, Soobin.”

He takes a deep breath to hold himself back,  grounding himself so he doesn’t do something that will upend both of your worlds. “You don’t know that, love.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe not, but I do know that I love you too.”

When you brush his mouth with your own, every being in the universe, heavenly or not, ceases to exist in your mind. It’s only you and Soobin in your own world. You want to kick yourself for taking so long to seize this moment, this kiss, with him. For all of the reasons Soobin supplies as to why it’s wrong for the two of you to be together, this could not feel more right.

Soobin only gives himself a second of separation from you to catch his breath before he dives back in for one, two, three more kisses. He moans eagerly into your mouth. He tugs on the fabric of your dress to occupy his hands, his body hungry for any contact he can get.

Heavens do be damned, if it means he can keep you between his arms and against his lips. 

Your back hits the bed as Soobin attaches his lips to your neck. The dogs scratch at the locked door of your bedroom, but you know they’ll give up after another minute of waiting for a result that will never come. You have other priorities to tend to.

Soobin’s lips and teeth mark you up as he travels along your skin with his mouth. He removes your dress and his shirt so your skin is in closer contact, the feeling of his every present warmth lighting you from the inside out. Your undergarments are still in the way, but you know they’ll be discarded soon.

“You do not know how many days I wished for this,” he mumbles into the spot between your breasts, his kisses setting you on fire to the point you can barely tell where he’s going next. He unclasps the clips holding your bra together, your top half now bare for his eyes to witness.

He marvels at the fullness of your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. He licks at the skin as he suckles. The action pulls a moan from your lips, your body thrusting up at nothing but open air.

“You can touch me in other ways, Soobin,” you gasp, taking his hand in yours and intertwining your fingers.

He blushes a deep crimson, releasing your nipple from his lips. “I don’t know how,” he admits.

You take his hand to guide lower to the top of your underwear, urging him to slip his hand inside. He does so, immediately finding the wetness of your folds against his fingertips. “You can move them around—just like that.” 

He takes your advice and expertly finds your clit to take between his thumb and index finger. Your hips buck up into his touch, and he smirks against your lips. He asks, “Is this what you like?”

“Yes, please.” He takes your underwear off to freely glide his fingers in and out of you, three of the digits simultaneously filling you but leaving you aching for more. “Please, Soobin, please,” you beg.

“What do you want, my love? Don’t hold back.”

“I want you inside of me,” you confess. He listens to your request without question. Unbuckling his pants, his cock springs free to make your eyes linger to the bottom half of his body. You don’t guess for long what it feels like, as he immediately sinks into you to make your eyelids flutter.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim, pressing your hands to his lower back, pushing him in deeper until he’s filling you to the hilt.

“You feel amazing.” Soobin says the words against your lips as he thrusts for the first time. He pulls completely before slipping back in, groaning the entire way.

While you appreciate the slow movement of his body against yours, not too eager to rush the experience, you cling to him with eager fingers, hoping the message will come across. “Soobin, go faster.”

You’ve only ever been with two other men in your life, two lackluster experiences in college you wished to forget. All the time between now was just a waiting game, you only willing to go the distance when you felt it was with the right person. And it seems like all the failures in your history have led you to this perfect blip in time.

Like Soobin can read your mind, he slows down just enough so he can whisper to you, “It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”

You can’t help the tear that forms in your eye, but it’s quickly kissed away with Soobin’s lips on your cheek and, subsequently, your mouth.

“I’m gonna come, Soobin. Please don’t stop.” His hips work faster, his thumb pressing down and rubbing your clit harder, and you can barely feel your body before it lights up in every area.

Your toes curl, your mouth slacks, and your soul explodes as the pleasure overtakes you. You feel empty yet so full from the endorphins released from your orgasm.

Soobin continues to move his hips against yours. His pace stutters, signaling his own release. He captures his lips with yours as he spills inside of you, your body his to claim completely. Nobody has ever had you in this way—emotionally, mentally, physically.

When you tell Soobin “I love you,” you mean it in every facet of reality, your soul intimately linked with his otherworldly one.

“I love you too, my love.” He smiles like a bashful child, taking you into his arms and pulling you closer as the night continues on outside. When you again, bodies intertwined between your sheets, all that you wish for now is for the moment to last forever.

And when you fall asleep that night in his arms a few hours later, you pray to every god you can name that it never ends.

The expectation of waking up to the warmth of Soobin’s arms and kisses dies when you feel his empty side of the bed. You search the entire house , your dogs padding behind you as you search every corner for him. 

To your terror and slowly breaking heart, he remains to be seen. Soobin is gone like he was never there to begin with, your house flooding with a chill that hits you to the core.

You crawl back into bed, naked and alone, tears streaming down your face. The only time you rise is to let the animals eat and use the bathroom. For the rest of the day, you remain in bed like a phantom. Half out of your body, half inside of it to feel every ounce of pain. Each shred of sadness reminds you that you still exist, and the man—angel—that you love is gone.

Yeonjun has his head in his hand when another pair of associates throw Soobin in front of his desk. Soobin put up an intense fight in the resulting scuffle to bring him back to the office above Earth, but he doesn’t regret it. The only thing he regrets is not leaving you with some sort of explanation, even something as little as a minute to tell you he loves you.

“When I approved your descent, I expected you to help your assignment. Not sleep with her.” Yeonjun sighs and reads over the paperwork at his desk. “The guys above me are gonna love this.”

“Jun, please.” Soobin falls down on his scraped knees and raises his hands in a prayer. “Let me just tell her—”

“What else is there to explain? You’ve clearly done enough.”

“I’m begging you—”

“You think I’m going to let you spend another second with her and make me look like an idiot? No.” He slams his hand on the desk. “If you’re lucky, Soobin, all the archangels will do is send you to the second circle of Hell. I’m surprised they’re not reprimanding me as your superior. You broke our greatest oath.”

Do not consort with humans, Soobin reminds himself as tears stream down his face. “I love her, Yeonjun. And you know she loves me. Didn’t I do my job? I found her a soulmate, just like she wished for.”

Yeonjun shakes his head with a sad smirk. “Don’t think you can get around our rules this time, Soobin. I just called you here to tell you the council will see you in the morning. Be grateful they’re giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

The angels that brought Soobin in drag him away to the lower cells of the building. As he’s pushed and pulled through dark hallways, Soobin has barely enough time to come up with a plan to fix what he’s ruined. Barely.

Your dream is almost the same as the one you envisioned months ago, the dark cavern welcoming you like an old friend. The fog of your transition from sleep to dreaming still pervades your senses. You barely have time to make out the details before Soobin has you wrapped in his arms, holding you so tightly that you feel the air knocked out of your lungs. “Thank God it worked.”

You sob immediately when you recognize Soobin’s voice and his arms around you. It’s like a magnet the way you gravitate to one another, not worrying if the dream will last a second or into eternity. You can barely remember the pain of being without him now that he’s in front of you.

You call his name as he kisses the crown of your hair. He backs you into the desk at the far end of the room, lifting you up by the legs to sit on its marble top. He trails his lips down until they meet your own, and he says so tenderly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up.”

Breaking into a fit of sad laughter, you run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now.” You kiss him again and again, until your lips feel bruised and sore.

Soobin sheds a tear and looks back into the night outside of his office door. “I don’t have long. They’ll bring me back to my cell soon. But I wanted to tell you I love you. And I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“W-Why are you being punished? You did what you were s-supposed to,” you stutter, a mournful knot building in your throat.

“I fell in love with a human when I shouldn’t have,” he answers, another tear welling in his eye. “But it was worth every rule I broke. How could I regret finding my best friend?” Soobin smiles despite the pain that you two share. 

You hiccup into his neck. “When will I see you again?”

“I-I don't know. But I’ll fix this,” he assures you, a steadfast determination in his expression.

“You don’t know that for sure, though,” you cry, heart ripping deeper at the seams with each word. 

“I don’t, but for now, know that I love you. I love you more than my existence allows.” He kisses you one more time as the edges of your dream blur. “It’s only for now, I promise.”

When you wake tangled in the comforter on your bed, the morning sky bleeding through your window, you begin the torture of waiting for the person you love most in the world to come back to you.

TWO MONTHS LATER

For the past seven Fridays since Soobin left, you’ve stayed in and waited for the phone to ring or the doorbell to sound, any way to signify that he hasn’t broken his promise. You don’t bother going into work, trying to find any excuse to stay in the house.

Beomgyu tries to get you out, go on dates, avoid the aching hole in your chest, but he doesn’t understand. None of your friends do. They think he’s left without an explanation like another random asshole would, but they don’t understand how wrong they are.

They’ll never understand you’re waiting for the one who took your heart between his hands and still holds it to this day, even if you can’t see him for now.

For now. The words play in your mind on a loop, the sound of Soobin’s voice as vivid as the day he said them between kisses in your dream. It’s only for now, I promise.

This Friday, you take his words to heart and decide to go out. You walk Key and Bori, the morning sun turning into an afternoon sky clear of clouds. The warmer weather signals winter is giving way to spring, although you can still feel the chill in your bones.

When you bring the dogs back home, you’re still too restless to stay inside, too many memories in the house haunting you with Soobin’s presence.

You walk around the town streets, the memories of those you love the most filling your heart with a solemn nostalgia that edges out the parts of you that are still miserable. You and Beomgyu learning to ride bikes around the animal shelter. Your parents treating you to your first scoop of mint chocolate ice cream after you won gold at your spelling contest. The kiss you shared with Soobin in your living room, and all the kisses that followed.

Each one contains longing for the past, yet offers some hope for making fresh memories in the same spots. And even locations you haven’t discovered yet.

By the second trip around the blocks you know too well, nighttime rears its head. The city lights mark the street names and numbers with a yellow glow, the heavens above pitch black.

Your legs are sluggish, ankles sore from continuing through the world around you without stopping for rest, but no physical excursion compared to the mental expedition you’ve been on today, a microcosm for all of your tangled emotions for the past two months.

 You almost give into the demands of your body when you hear the faintest sound of your name behind you. Turning on shaking limbs, you see the perfect contours and edges of the man you love in crystal clarity. His shoulders heave as his face remains wet with tears, his body on the verge of convulsing from the travel back to you.

Although every muscle strains and screams inside of you, you run towards him with all of your might and crash into his arms. The water on your cheeks mixes with his when your skin touches. He kisses each tear before he reaches your lips, his mouth tasting of salt and peppermint.

“I’m here. I’m here, my love.” He strokes your hair with his hand and runs the other across your back.

“I didn’t get to say I love you too, last time I saw you,” you say, the words tumbling over one another as you try getting them about. You’re crying and mumbling and it all feels incoherent, but you know every sound you emit is true.

Soobin chuckles, and you’re reminded how beautiful the sound of his laughter is. “You never had to say it back, my love. I already knew.”

Your heartbeat is erratic, but it doesn’t distract you from the fact Soobin’s heart seems to beat as well. A strong, even-tempered rhythm, one you’ve never heard before. You look him deep in the eyes, needing to hear the words on his lips. “Are you—“

His voice is still hoarse and tattered, but his smile is like the salve to all of your wounds. “I told you I would come back to you.”

You whimper, another tear escaping from your eyes. “You gave up everything for me? Your immortality, your friends, your—”

He presses a finger to your lips before running it over your cheek, his expression soft. “I completed my mission. And my everything is right here with me.”

You kiss his lips, all the I love you’s not enough to encapsulate every feeling and gift Soobin’s given you since he came into your life. You both may be on Earth, one old and one new human soul linked as one, but you know this is what it means to be higher than even the immensity of heaven.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @biteyoubiteme @jjunbug

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[rustyironskillet]

Day 12: Time Travel

“Sooooo Phantom, do ya have any siblings?” Kid Flash asked as he tried to make small talk with the newest recruit to the team.

A few days ago, Young Justice was called to a meeting by Batman where he introduced their new team mate, Phantom. Phantom was a tough looking dude, he was jacked and towered over them all, even Conner!

Batman didn’t give them much information about the guy but apparently John Constentine was the one who suggested him for the team since he needed “community service hours”.

The dude was currently drinking some soda next to the computer as Red Robin searched for any new info on their latest mission. He turned his attention away from the can, and stared at Wally, his red eyes piercing into his soul.

“Why?” 

“Well we are all about to go on a mission together and none of us really know you so I think it’d be best if we all got to know you better,” that was half true. Mostly Wally was just being nosey, but the dude really did make everyone nervous since he was this really tough dude with blood red eyes and apparently was here because John Constentine said he needed community service hours???? Constentine typically say some wild shit, but what the fuck do you mean by community service? Wally knows you can’t use those for school, he’s tried, and what else gave you community service? Juvie and prison!!

Phantom stared at him hard for a few seconds, his eyes searing into the back of Wally’s skull before saying, “Okay fine”.

The answer surprised everyone in the room, I mean the guy had barely even spoken the last few days and had rejected every question about his personal life.

“Depending on how you see it, I have 2 to 4 siblings”

“Is your father a serial adopter too?” Tim joked.

“Yes and no”

“Huh?” 

“It’s pretty complicated,” Phantom shrugged, seemingly deciding to end the conversation there and taking another swig of his drink.

However, Tim, out of annoyances of every attempt to get to know this jerk being thwarted and a bit of confidence his family was more complicated, decided to challenge Phantom’s statement.

“Ehh, it probably isn’t as complicated as my family, we got about 50 more siblings adopted each month, all with lots much trauma”

At this, Phantom narrowed his eyes at Tim.

“I see what your doing, your trying to get me to talk tell you guy more about my family by acting like yours are more insane”

“Am I?” Tim asked, trying to hide the shivers going down his spine from the way Phantom was staring at him.

Phantom to a huge swig of his soda, emptying it and throwing it into the garbage, before fully turning to Tim.  

“You’re lucky I am always good for competitions, now sit down this is going to take a bit”

Tim gladly obliged and soon everyone sat around Phantom as if it were storytime in kindergarten.

“Okay, so at first I only had an older sister and my parents” Phantom began, “but then they died because of a mistake I made and I had to move in with my evil godfather”

Megan raised her hand and asked, “Isn’t a godfather someone who is very close to the family? Why would your parents choose an evil person?”

“‘Cause my dad was oblivious to this and though they were good friends even though the dudes tried to kill him multiple times”

“I see,” Megan lowered her hand, no less confused.

“There I went mad with grief and had him remove my humanity and tried to kill all of humanity”

“I think that was a bit of an overreaction,” Wally joked.

“You tried to kill all of humanity? Why weren’t we told of this when it happened?” Kaldur'ahm asked.

“That was in a different timeline, I was a big enough problem that they gods tried to kill the younger version of me to stop me, so to avoid dying, my younger version decide to try to defeat me and the only reason he did was cause I was underestimating him,” Phantom emphasized the last part because he had to stress he didn’t not lose to a 15 year old boy because he was weaker than him.

“What happened next?,” Artemis asked, completely inraptured in the story.

“I was then imprisoned for sometime before escaping, causing problems and then realizing that causing younger mean the same pain I experienced won't bring my loved ones back,” Phantom continued to explain, “so I am now going to therapy, doing community service, and got the majority of my powers taken away”.

“Is your therapist open to seeing new patients?” Konner asked.

“No, but this timelines version of my sister is and she has a lot of experience so I can give you her number instead”

“Sure, that’ll work”

“Okay,” Phantom said before writing her number down and handing it to Konner, “The thing is I can’t go back to living with my real parents because they don’t know that I am Phantom so I have to go back to living this timelines version of my godfather”

“You gotta be kidding me” Tim groans.

“Exactly what I said!!” Phantom put his arm up defensively, “Fortunately, this version is a little better, he is no longer tiring to kill my dad and has stopped chasing after my mom, he did clone the other of me and now there is a genderbent version of him but my godfather treats her like a princess and will not stop spoiling her, which I am also guilty of”

Phantoms continues to explain more and in the back of Tim's mind he remembers he was supposed to be doing something but honestly this conversation was too good to care.

“Anyways that's how I technically have 2 to 4 siblings, Jazz and Elle are permanently my sisters and I love them so much, and even though the other Jazz is technically the same as this Jazz, I still think of her as someone else, someone I miss dearly. Also if I considered this Jazz my sister, I guess I’d have to considered the other me as my brother”

“Damn bitch your family is crazy” Wally said, happy he finally managed to get through Phantom’s tough skin.

As they finished up their storytime, the Zeta-tubes activated and Red Tornado and an upset looking Batman walked to the group.

“You all were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago”

[cheers-to-you-th]

Winner Takes it All TEASER

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: Friends to lovers, fluff, angst Warnings: very suggestive (MDNI), seft-doubt, idiocy Word count: final 17k, teaser 965

Part Two will be fluff and smut :3

Release Date: 6/10/25

Summary: It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore. The question is, why won't he fuck you?!

or

Your journey of attempting to seduce your friend, Kim Mingyu

Full fic

It's no secret that Kim Mingyu is a whore.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh, but if there's one thing everyone on campus knows, its that he’s a good fuck. It's not like he has no standards, he just isn’t shy about his life, and with his looks, you wouldn’t be either. He wears the title like a badge of honor, girls practically tripping over themselves to sleep with him at every chance.

So yeah, it's no secret that Kim Mingyu appreciates and indulges in one night stands, random hookups, and having an all around good time, the question is, why on earth won’t he sleep with you?

You first brought it up one night during a study session at his apartment that had turned into beer and complaining about life. He was your friend, you consider yourself to be pretty close. You figured, he’s so open about his sex life, why can’t I be? (and you were maybe a few cans too deep)

He was talking about how one of the girls he’d hooked up with recently wouldn’t leave him alone even though he’d clearly told her it was a one time thing. 

“God, I haven’t been fucked good in so long” You groan dramatically as he chokes on his beer. “Like, seriously, I feel like a fucking celibate. No shame on celibates, just not my thing.” 

At that he snorts, “I’m sure I know plenty of people who wouldn’t mind taking you home.”

You roll your eyes, stretching your legs across his lap like you always do when you're a little tipsy and annoyed. “Yeah, but I’m not trying to settle for just anyone. I want to be fucked well, not just… you know, awkward thrusts and two minutes of missionary while some dude tries to make me come with, like, hope and vibes.”

Mingyu laughs—big and loud, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes your chest feel tight for no reason you’ll admit out loud. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” you say, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You’ve got this reputation, right? Campus Casanova, professional heartbreaker, dick of the year—”

“Thank you,” he says with a flourish.

“—so why haven’t I benefited from that? I have a declaration.” You raise your hand dramatically and point at him, “You are the chosen one. This is my most desperate hour. Fuck me, Kim Mingyu, you’re my only hope.”

Mingyu snorts so hard he actually wheezes, pressing a hand to his chest like your words physically knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just—did you Star Wars me into asking for sex?”

You grin, a little smug, a little unhinged, and blame the alcohol and the way he’s looking at you now—eyes wide but amused, lips parted around the beginning of a smile that doesn’t reach his usual cocky level. He’s... surprised. And not laughing at you. Just surprised.

“I’m being resourceful,” you say, lifting your beer in a mock toast. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to fuck their hot friend?”

“So you think I’m hot?” he teases, and you blame the alcohol for how you think you see something deeper in his eyes.

You snort. “Mingyu, that’s the least controversial opinion I’ve ever had.”

Mingyu throws his head back, groaning like you’ve just inflicted pain instead of flattery. “God, don’t say stuff like that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he says, brushing your leg off his lap playfully and standing to grab another beer. “It’s that I like being friends with you, and hearing you say shit like that makes it dangerous.”

You blink. “Dangerous how?”

He shrugs, cracking open the can and avoiding your gaze in a way that’s suspiciously casual. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, but your drunk brain has terrible ideas. I like us the way we are.”

You narrow your eyes. “So you won’t sleep with me?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. 

“Even if I say please?” You say, looking up at him innocently.

“You look like a tarsier.” He deadpans.

You scoff. “Wow. I’m offended. Rejected and mocked?”

He leans against the kitchen counter and grins, annoyingly charming and smug. “Consider it a compliment. You're one of the few people I don't want to ruin with my ‘dick of the year’.”

You toss a pillow at him. “I’ll have you know I only asked because I was trying to solve a very real personal crisis.”

“Well, this crisis,” he says, catching the pillow and throwing it back, “will not be solved with me. I’m flattered. Really. But nah.”

You sit there for a beat, squinting at him like you’re trying to find the crack in his logic. “Is this, like, a challenge? Are you saying I’m not good enough for your stupid dick?”

He snorts. “I’m saying you’re too good. Too funny. Too smart. And my friend whom I greatly value.”

“Oh my god, stop trying to reject me nicely” you groan, flopping dramatically back onto the couch.

“I’m not trying,” he says with a wink. “It’s just my natural charm.”

You pout, staring at the ceiling, a wicked little idea already forming. “Fine. Reject me. I see how it is.” You sigh dramatically then look at him. “But don’t think this is over.”

“Oh really?” he says, amused.

You glance at him sideways, eyes sharp. “You’ll break eventually. Everyone does.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Just patient,” you sing, reaching for your beer.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he walks back over. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

If he thinks you’re going to drop it, he clearly doesn’t know you as well as he thought.

Because the war has begun.

Let the games begin.

A/N: forgot to upload last month oops. finals were crazy but now its summer so... more writing? we'll see

the nerdy shit in this is purely self indulgent

[toxycodone]

mouthwashing characters and their icks

ship. tulpar crew x reader

content. sfwish, just annoying things about our faves, some are romantic and some are general.

Captain Curly

Wildly empathetic. Like to a point where it’s annoying. Like yes, you get it. It’s sad to see an animal on the side of the road. But this is the second dog this week and it’s bit him twice. (He also falls for like. Fake homeless scams. Omg.)

I think he had an era where he had a cat that fucking hated him and never ever left under the guest room bed and terrorized his guests but he didn’t have the heart to get rid of it. 💀

He always ends up playing devil’s advocate without trying. Like when you’re complaining about someone at work or some bitch who cut you off in traffic, Curly’s like “maybe they had a bad day!” or something.

He just…never lets you just wallow in your misery when you need to. When he starts with his “look on the bright side!” stuff it makes your eyes roll back into your skull.

Is soooooo fucking conflict avoidant he’d rather just take shit on the chin then ever speak his mind about things with you. It gets so bad bc he’s bottling all this crap up and getting kinda catty. Because he won’t just grow up and tell you what his problem is.

Comes home in his dirty ass shoes and tracks mud all over the house. I mean he’ll swiffer it up like the housewife he is but it’s annoying.

Doesn’t clean his hands before touching your phone (or his own) before eating,. U get a greasy screen.

Jimmy is an asshole to you and Curly just goes “now now, Jim…” It won’t be until Jimmy does something like. Really bad. That Curly decides to put his foot down and enforce boundaries with that man. You witness this dude literally use your man as a doormat way too often.

If you make him choose. He would probably choose Jim unless push really came to shove…..

GIRLS FLIRT WITH HIM IN PUBLIC AND HES TOO ‘AWKWARD’ TO SAY “I’m taken…” so he just flaunts in the attention. In reality he just…likes the attention but doesn’t want to admit it to himself. (He’s loyal don’t get me wrong but this is annoying)

Thinks big romantic public gestures are cute. Whether that is an ick or not is up to you.

Jimmy

GOES THROUGH YOUR PHONE WHEN YOU’RE ASLEEP OR IN THE BATHROOM. And when you catch him he’s doesn’t even bother to make a good excuses “just wanted to check something.” Okay??? What?? If you go through his phone he will legit tackle you for it back (he isn’t even cheating he’s just pathetically bitchless and friendless. His last text was to his dealer and bro didn’t even respond.)

Will leave your important messages on read. It’s like he has read receipts on just to spite you.

Aggressively questions you out of the blue on who you know and hang out with as if it isn’t the same fucking people each time.

Really horny when he’s drunk and tries to seduce you but has terrible whiskey dick.

Terrible morning breath. Rank. Disgusting. Also all his clothes have the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke. Along with his carpet. And furniture. His walls are probably off-white too.

World’s dirtiest bathroom it’s literally so gross. He leaves his stubble in/around the sink after shaving with an electric razor real fast before work.

Has probably kissed you and then asked you what you last ate with a grimace 💔

Your friends hate him. Your family hates him. Your landlord hates him. And he hates them back.

You’ve had to bail him out of jail before. The officer on duty just gives you a pitied look when he sees you walk in and say you’re bailing him of all people out.

Pretty sure he has threatened to kill himself if you leave him multiple times but lashes out at you when you’re sweet to him at the most random times.

Anya

Stealing this from @l1v1ngd3dgrrl but Anya has the DUMBEST. LAUGH. Like she has a cutesy laugh until she’s finally not thinking and she laugh so hard she snorts. So loud.

Refuses to file down her nails so she accidentally scratches you all the time.

Definitely has an ex she’s still friends with that makes you lowkey question what is going on between them bc they’re obviously still into her and she doesn’t see it.

She silently judges and you can see it on her face when she has something to say but then she goes “it’s nothing!!!” And refuses to say it. (However, this does make her the best gossiper and she can be a total mean girl and tear apart bitches you hate on secret.)

Lowkey tries to psychoanalyze you when you’re venting to her like girl. I am not your homework.

Thinks it’s her responsibility to “fix you” for some reason. Takes you being depressed, angry, etc a little too personally.

Never watches the movies or shows you recommend you have sit her down and watch it w her. And she will. Be distracted by stuff on her phone.

Avid Mitski fan. And Nora Jones. Just an air of sad girl and longing to her that goes soooo crazy.

Big fan of ugly sweaters and tacky matching outfits….but has the audacity to make comments on your style.

Daisuke

“This one’s for you!” *Misses*. In public. In front of your friends. Need I say more.

Uses your hair products in the shower and your soap and your nice shaving oil without asking. :/

This is moreso in the beginning of the relationship but. I see this persisting that he’s constantly looking to you for approval for things. Has a really difficult time making decisions on his own, too. He’s looking to you for guidance on stuff,

Unironically thinks Dutch ovening you is funny.

Your friends all think he’s mid and although he’s sweet. You’re way outta his league. You’re dating down.

Has more skin care products than he can ever use. He’s a total product junkie.

GACHA GAME WHALE. Has definitely borrowed money for a ten pull in genshin 💔

Has cried out of frustration over Fortnite before (he was in a bad place. Okay.)

Cannot keep a job for the life of him. The only solid career he lands is like. Bobarista. But goddamn he’s good at it.

Has. Forgotten your anniversary/birthday/etc. before. and probably almost threw up out of guilt.

Swansea

Does the dad cold start every morning. Hacking. Coughing. Spitting up in the sink. It’s gross.

When he takes a shit he’s stuck in the bathroom for like half an hour at least. It’s always oddly humid and gross if you go in after him.

Chews with his mouth open.

Walks around shirtless only in underwear and will proudly fart whenever he needs to and it’s loud as fuck.

His kids lowkey hate him tbh. 💀 they have a better relationship as adults but man. Rocky fucking childhood.

Nothing ever really makes him satisfied or truly happy so you’re stuck in this weird limbo on if he actually gives a shit about you or not.

Rolls his eyes at you. When you can plainly sees he has suuuuch an attitude problem it’s crazy.

Definitely has asked for a manager in your presence over something minuscule (you wanted to die)

[tthoroughfare]

happiest season // ellie williams

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the gang's all back together for christmas! no matter how hectic life gets, you always make time for your end of year outing.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: modern!ellie x reader ft. jesse and dina

*･゜ﾟ･* content: sfw. ellie fucking sucks at ice skating

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.1k

this fic is a part two to this blurb! i loved writing the dynamic so much i had to continue it... there will be more coming trust. *dutch voice* i have a plan. also i don't even like xmas that much so i have no idea where this came from. just felt right. i hope you all enjoy, and have an amazing festive period with your loved ones <3

gift bag in hand, you wander into the restaurant. there’s cheesy christmas music drifting through the speakers, a tree in the corner, lights everywhere; you immediately spot jesse and dina, the latter waving at you as soon as you enter.

“hey!” she greets when you walk up, standing to put her arms around you. “how are you?”

“good, good,” you reply, one-handedly returning her embrace before leaning down to give jesse a quick hug. “you?”

“good. i mean, life is fucking killing me in general, but y’know.” she sits back down, watching as you place your belongings to the side and shuffle your chair in. “where’s ellie?”

you shrug. “no idea, i haven’t talked to her today. probably isn’t even on her way yet.”

“most likely,” jesse adds, smirking.

“has anyone texted her?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

the couple share a glance, wordlessly confirming before looking back at you.

“uh… no,” jesse states.

“dude.”

you pull your phone out, knowing all too well what ellie’s like. even if she knows she has to be somewhere, she’ll stay up way too late; and if no-one gets in touch with her in the morning, she won’t be up and ready for it.

selecting her contact and calling her, you press your phone to your ear. she surprisingly answers after two rings, clearly walking down the street, wind whipping past the microphone.

“hello?”

“just checking you’re awake.”

“uh, okay, sorry, i’m literally… like, ‘round the corner.”

“hurry up, ‘cause the manager says if all members of the party aren’t here in five minutes we’re getting kicked out,” you deadpan, casting a smirk at your friends.

“very funny.”

you automatically turn your head when you hear the door open, both through your phone and behind you. ellie bustles through it, phone between her ear and shoulder, waving with her free hand before ending the call. she heads over to the table, taking the empty seat beside you. dina looks on, giving her an exaggerated offended stare.

“uh, the fuck, do i not get a hug?”

ellie rolls her eyes with a small smile, gesturing her over. “come here.”

dina happily totters over, leaning over ellie’s chair and wrapping her arms around her shoulders from behind. ellie shifts her hand, giving her forearm a few pats before she pulls away.

“happy?”

“yup.” dina sits back down, budging her chair in before clapping her hands together lightly. “okay. gifts before or after food?”

ellie scoffs lightly at her impatience. “i literally just got here.”

“you want everyone to say before, 'cause you want yours now,” jesse comments fondly, leaning an elbow on the table.

“… correct. but i really don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do.”

“i don’t mind. we can do it now,” you add.

dina’s eyes flit between each of you mischievously. “can we do it now?”

“let’s do it now,” you confirm with a chuckle, leaning forward and pointing your hand at dina. “you first — your idea.”

she grins, reaching to pick up her gift bag and holding it out to ellie. “i got you.”

ellie takes it from her, smirking lightly as she takes out the tissue paper on top. her expression changes when she sees the first item, eyebrows scrunching and letting out a drawn-out scoff. “bro, what the fuck?”

dina laughs knowingly.

“what is it?” jesse questions, chuckling lightly. she just holds it up in reply, pivoting it back and forth so you can all see, avoiding eye contact with you. it’s a hot pink bullet vibrator.

“y’know… ‘cause you’re gay and stuff,” dina jovially explains, holding her hands up in gesture. ellie just stares at her, blinking slowly and holding back a laugh. “ladies’ll love it.”

“what ladies?” jesse remarks quietly, earning himself a light-hearted tap from ellie’s shoe under the table.

“anyway…” ellie gingerly sets the box down on the table, digging back through the bag. “thank you for that, dina.”

the rest of the gifts are sweet; she’d gotten her a dinosaur mug, her favorite chips, and a band tee. she holds them up in turn for you all to look at, placing everything back in when she’s done and thanking dina.

dina nods in acknowledgement, smiling warmly. you all look at ellie expectantly, who settles into her chair holding a clueless expression on her face.

“it’s your turn,” jesse reminds her after a moment of silence.

“oh, shit, yeah.” she sits back up, picking up her gift bag from the floor and passing it over to you, dragging the action out in amplified suspense. you grin, taking it from her gently. “thank you.”

dipping your hand in, you take out the first item. it’s your favorite scent of candle, one you always had on in your room. you’d never mentioned anything about it to her, but ellie was like that. always quietly noticing.

there’s another, bigger item in there, too. you pull it out the wrong way, turning it around to get a look; it’s a framed painting of your favorite musician.

“oh my god, this is awesome!” you say, looking at ellie. “where did you get this?”

“uh, i didn’t…” she trails off softly, looking down at her hands for a moment. “i made it.”

your eyebrows raise, smile widening. “no fucking way. you painted this?”

there’s a small, coy smile on her face as she nods. “… you like it?”

“you serious? i love it, this is like the coolest thing ever.” you look back at the painting, studying the fine details; it looks like it took her a good while. “thank you so much.”

“wait, i wanna see!” dina chimes in, reaching over the table for it.

jesse leans in as you pass it over, peering over her shoulder. “woah… this is good, ellie. why the hell weren’t you my secret santa?”

ellie tuts playfully, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “you’d have gotten coal.”

the rest of the gift exchange goes ahead, temporarily halted by the waiter coming to take your orders. you got dina; dina got jesse. 

the secret santa was a silly tradition you’d upheld over the years. one that became more precious when you left high school, and you and ellie got into a different college as the other two. you still saw each other wherever possible, and had a group chat that was active daily; still, it was hard being away from your closest childhood friends. you found yourself missing just being able to text dina to come pick you up, getting drive-thru and talking shit in her car until the early hours.

every year when you were all home for christmas, you made a point of meeting up. while normally all busy with your own plans, no matter what, you’d always clear your schedule for at least one day.

after the meal, dina announces that she’s booked ice skating — to which ellie lets out a groan.

“why?” she complains, drawing the word out. “you know i’m horrible at it.”

“yeah, why do you think i made the reservation?” dina counters teasingly. ellie just gives her a look.

when you get down there, in the middle of lacing up your skates, ellie flops down next to you to put hers on and lets out a dramatic sigh.

you cast her a sideways glance, smirking fondly. “oh, shut up, it’ll be fun.”

“you don’t understand, i fucking suck.”

“get a penguin,” you respond, chuckling as you finish up, leaning back to wait for her.

she lets out a laugh. “no… embarrassing.”

“plenty of people have them.” you gesture out to the rink.

“yeah, they’re all ten and under.”

rolling your eyes, you train your gaze on dina already out there. she whizzes past fairly gracefully, dragging jesse along. “hold dina’s hand, she’s pretty good.”

“no, she goes too fast. i’d end up eating shit.”

“i think that’s gonna happen either way.”

she sighs lightly, pulling a dejected face as she finishes tying her laces. going to stand, you offer a hand to haul her up, keeping hold of it as you both dodder over to the edge of the rink.

you get on first, a little unsteady; you’re passable at skating, at best. ellie hesitantly places a first foot onto the ice, free hand clinging onto the side as she ungracefully enters fully. one of the skates almost goes out from under her and catapults her flying into the barrier; it nearly takes you out, too, sending you off balance.

failing to hold back from laughing at her, you give her hand a squeeze. “ellie, oh my god.”

“i fuckin’ told you!”

“look, you’ll be fine, just hold onto the side and i’ll, like… drag you.”

“real elegant.”

you raise an eyebrow, jutting your neck slightly forward in gesture. “rather fend for yourself?”

she pauses, sheepishly looking to the left, then back at you. “… no.”

“come on, then.”

it goes about how you expected, moving along at a snail’s pace, ellie practically white-knuckling the barrier. by the time you’ve gotten to the other side of the rink, dina and jesse have passed you twice; on the first, teasingly cackling at you, on the second, calling out, ‘losers’.

you pat ellie’s arm in jest, giggling at the exclamation. “don’t listen to them, they’re mean.”

not long after, you actually come up behind two people slower than you; a young boy and a grandma, trailing around the edge of the rink hand-in-hand. you deal with it for a few minutes, but the thought of being stuck behind them the whole time proves too irritating.

“we’re gonna pass these people,” you mutter to ellie, leaning in. “you’re gonna have to let go, and—“

she cuts you off, shaking her head vehemently. “no, no, no. dude, i can’t.”

“you gotta. literally just let go for like, two seconds, hold onto me while we go around. it’s chill.”

you were wrong — it was not, in fact, chill. essentially the second ellie lets go of the barrier, she panics and wobbles. that, in turn, makes her panic even more, and she completely loses her footing. calling out your name in comical distress, she goes down in a heap, automatically grasping onto the back of your jacket and bringing you down with her.

you crack up after the shock of hitting frigid, wet ice wears off. it seeps through your sleeves and jeans, goosebumps forming. “ellie, what the fuck?”

“i’m sorry,” she laughs along, sitting up and flicking the moisture off of her hands. “i’m so sorry.”

you manage to get over to the side and hoist yourself up. whilst you’re in the process of attempting to get ellie on her feet without being yanked back down, jesse and dina fly past again, cheering dramatically at the sight.

ellie turns to flip them off; the motion destabilizes her, and she topples and lands flat on her ass all over again.

later, when you’ve all hugged and parted ways, you’re in your childhood bedroom winding down when you receive a series of texts from her.

you head over to the corner of your room where you’d dropped your stuff on entry, taking your gifts out of the bag and rechecking. camouflaged against the interior, flat against the bottom, there’s a small envelope addressed to you.

opening it and taking out the folded paper, you can’t hold back from smiling. it’s a letter, decorated with silly stickers.

i just wanted to write you a letter to let you know how much i appreciate you :) i am very lucky to have you in my life and i always look forward to spending time with you even if we’re just hanging out in each other’s rooms and rotting. 

i kinda struggle with getting to know people (woah shock) and when i first moved i was so fucking worried i was gonna literally have no friends LOL. but right from the beginning you, jesse and dina made it so easy. don’t tell them this because i'll never hear the end of it, but it was mainly you. you were always going out of your way to talk to me and include me and stuff, and it meant a lot. and at risk of sounding super weird as soon as i saw you, i knew you were going to be an important person to me. 

back in school when we were applying to college, honestly i was scared that you were going to end up going somewhere different to me. like to the point i wouldn’t be able to sleep some nights because i’d just be up thinking about it. anyway, i’m so glad it all worked out. wouldn’t wanna do this shit with anyone else <3

love you always

ellie

heading back over to your bed to grab your phone, you text her again, letter sitting at the side of you.

[xetlynn]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do a Eren, Jean, Connie and Reiner x reader. Maybe it could be a get together turned reader getting a train ran on her. But If it’s too much I understand 🫢

Yes... and done! lol

AOT IMAGINES: Eren, Reiner, Jean, and Connie

Game Night!

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUT!

[aot] [main page] Contains: Filthy smut, filthiest, m!reveiving oral, f!receiving oral, gangbang?, voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, anal, doggy, riding, facef@cking, just a whole lot.

“We have a game night going on tonight, you gonna join?” Eren sneaks up behind you, looping his fingers in your jeans to pull you toward him. “Mm, I don’t know I have lots of homework.” You lie, looking up at him with a small smirk. He scoffs, holding onto your waist. “Don’t leave me alone with them, I’m sure we’ll get to have our fun after…” His eyebrows wiggle up and down causing you to chuckle, shaking your head at his horniness. 

Eren and you have been friends for four years, Jean introduced the two of you since they’ve been friends since middle school and now roommates in college. Ever since last year the two of you have been hooking up on and off. Never getting into something serious but also not messing around with anyone else even though you guys have full permission to do so. 

“You’re an idiot but what time?” Pushing away from him to grab your backpack out of the backseat of your car. “Around 7, so you’re coming?” He secretly not so secretly checks you out while facing the other way and being bent over. Biting his lip to avoid saying something dirty. 

“I guess I will be there. As long as you promise to give me something in return.” You sling your bag over your shoulder, giving him a sultry expression. “Oh I’ll give you something alright.” He pulls you into him by putting his arm around your neck and playfully kissing the top of your head.

 “Okay, I’ll see you later, you freak.” Giving him a quick peck on the lips before hurrying away to your first class of the day. 

•••

“You gonna fuck her tonight, while we’re all here?” Jean crosses his arms, annoyed that his friend has no decency. “Yeah, maybe we can even give you guys a show. If not, I know you’ll get just as excited with hearing her.” Eren rubs his hand down his torso, pretending to get himself off. The ash-brown haired boy sighs, rolling his eyes. “I should’ve never let you two meet if I knew this was going to become a thing.” 

“I’m glad you did, actually.” Eren plops down on their couch, taking his phone out automatically seeing a text from the person they’re conversing about. “Yeah because you get your dick wet now.” 

“Don’t sound too jealous, I’m sure I can share just say the word.” He winks just as Reiner and Connie enter the house with groceries. “What about sharing?” Connie raises a brow, curious. 

“Nothing-” “[Name], he’s jealous because I get to dick her down every night.” Eren cracks himself up with his own words, texting you back at the same time. “Honestly, I get it.” Connie truthfully admits, throwing the bags down on the counter. “I don’t mean to be so crude but yeah, she’s pretty attractive.” Reiner chimes in with dusty red cheeks, sort of feeling guilty for talking about you in such a manner since he’s only met you a total of four times. 

“See, and I bet you she’d be fine with it.” Eren shows a picture of you sucking his dick unprompted making Jean look away in disgust. “Dude, I don’t want to see your fucking penis.” He slaps his friend’s hand causing him to drop his phone. “Such a priss.” Eren snorts, picking his phone back up. 

“When did you tell her to come over?” Reiner changes the subject while pulling out large bowls to put chips in them. “7 so like thirty minutes.” Eren answers, placing his legs on the coffee table. “Did you tell her to bring some friends?” Connie perks up as he asks the question. “No, I don’t need her squealing, obnoxious friends coming.” The long haired brunette scoffs. 

“He’s only saying that because they don’t like him.” Jean smirks, going to the kitchen to help his friends with setting everything up. “They don’t like him?” Reiner raises a brow, not exactly surprised but just wondering what the reason was. “They caught us fucking one time and got envious since their boyfriends didn’t have a huge dick like me.” Eren partially lies. They did catch them fuck once but that was definitely not occasion. 

“He got wasted and told [Name] he loved her then the next day acted like nothing happened.” Jean exposes the guy who’s jaw slacks open, not expecting to be called out. Connie and Reiner laugh. “I don’t understand why you don’t just date her.” Jean shrugs his shoulders, unaffected by the hit to his bicep. “It’s easier this way, no commitment.”

“Doesn’t it make it… more difficult?” Reiner comes and places the chip bowls down. Connie brings bottles of Corona still in the cardboard pack. “Nah, it’s easier. Trust.” Eren crosses his fingers before going back to texting you who was actually down the street already. Being earlier than told to be like you usually were. 

He stands up, heading over to the door as the three finish getting stuff situated for the card games. Normally Armin and a few others would join but they had stuff to do so Eren insisted on inviting [Name] for one time. 

Your black car pulls in a spot in the street since their driveway was packed with their four cars. You come out wearing a simple black skirt and dark green tank top with a black cardigan over it. It was casual but also night. It made Eren’s dick twitch in his pants knowing you could keep that skirt on during sex later. You give him a wave, locking your car behind you as you walk towards the house. He gives a wave back, whistling at you. “A skirt?” He mutters, tilting his head. You smile. “Easy access.” You whisper with a wink as you walk past him and into the house. He mumbles something under his breath, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, following behind. 

“Hey guys!” You address everyone with a polite grin. “Hey, [Name].” Jean gets up to give you a hug. “Hii horse face.” You joke, squeezing him in the hug before letting go. “Nice to see you two again.” You go over to Connie and Reiner to give them hugs as well. “Thank you for having me!” 

“It’s no problem, it’s nice to see you too.” Reiner pats your back gently. “Yeah, we love having you here.” Connie adds. 

“Awe I love being here.” You sit on the couch with Eren and Jean, Connie plops down on the ground as Reiner grabs a chair from the mini dining room they have. 

An hour into playing cards humanity and slight drinking. Not much, only having one corona each and not even finishing them. Eren begins to get antsy, his hand traveling all over your body. Not really being able to be discreet due to sitting on the couch you have to push his hand away.

 After the sixth attempt of touching your inner thigh you stand up. “I’m going to get a water.” You announce, climbing over Eren and accidentally flashing Connie who was now laying on the ground. He didn’t mind one bit though. 

“Get me one too.” Jean says leading a train of the other three wanting one as well. Eren takes this to his advantage and he joins you. To “help you get water bottles.” 

As you're bent over in the fridge, have to dig around protein milks and other drinks to where the waters are in the back. “Man it’s like you’re trying to get fucked in front of my friends.” Eren comes up behind you, rubbing his clothed crotch against your ass. You get startled, hitting your head on the top of the fridge. “Ow!” You cry out, standing up to slap the boy who was laughing. 

“Sorry, sorry, c’mere.” He kisses the back of your head holding your waist to keep you close against him. “Gosh you just want an excuse to touch me.” You whisper, pushing him away from you going back to the fridge and squatting down to quickly grab the five water bottles. 

“We should just go to the bedroom now.” He turns you around, starting to attack your neck knowing it was a weak spot for you. Purposely making it extremely laborious for you to decline his righteous offer. 

“I- no, we're hanging out with your friends Eren!” You meeped out, attempting to force him off of you. “We won’t mind.” A voice speaks from beside the both of you guys. Your heads shoot over to see Connie standing there, taking a swig of his beer. “I mean as long as we could join.” Connie teases, throwing his bottle into the trash then reaching over to grab his water. Your face heats up at his proposal even if it was only a joke it sort of turned you on at the thought. 

You and Eren make eye contact and he sees your pupils dilate making him snicker. “If you’re up for it, let’s get the others. She seems soaked just by her facial expression to your little suggestion.” Eren grabs you by the waist. “Go to the room, get ready for me.” He whispers in your ear, not giving you the choice to argue with him. 

Eren had always made jokes about letting his friends hit while he watched or you would even threaten fucking Jean just to piss him off. So you were beginning to actually get your hopes up. 

As you scurried right to his room, knowing exactly where it is since he would sneak you in at night to have “sleepovers” that just turned into him fucking you for hours. 

Reiner and Jean look confused on why you left in the middle of the game. Both standing up to talk to Eren and Connie who were heading back. “Is she okay?” Jean questions worriedly. “She seemed like she was in a rush.” Reiner mutters. 

“Oh she’s perfect.” Eren throws water bottles at the two of them. Connie was practically beyond himself, not believing this was real. He was only joking because of the shit Eren was talking about earlier. “Why’d she- seriously? Right now?” Jean scrunches his face, not irritated that Eren chose now to fuck you. 

“Wait, wait, listen to him Jean before you get all upset.” Connie puts his hands up then motions Eren to go ahead. Eren licks his teeth before speaking. “She wants us to fuck her. Together. Take turns, you know? Get your little wackers wet. Finally experience life as a man.” Eren begins to ramble, Reiner’s face turns red at his lewd choice of phrases. Jeans mouth opens, going to say something but nothing comes out. Connie laughs, jumping up and down while hitting his friends excitedly. “Are you serious?” Reiner blurts out. 

“Mhm, I was there!” Connie says. “She’s getting ready for us right now.” Eren grabs his hair-tie from his wrist and puts his hair up messily. “Let’s not keep her waiting.” He leads his three roommates into his bedroom where you waited nervously on the edge of his bed. 

Your cardigan is already discarded on his gaming chair. Not knowing what else to do with yourself while you sat there, impatient while also nervous. When the door opened you tensed up, standing up to see the four men walk in. 

“Hey, pretty.” Eren goes over to you, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. “You want this, hm?” He double checks this is something you’re interested in. You nod your head shyly. “Remember what we talked about, babe?” He reminds you and you sigh. “Yes, I want it.” 

“Good girl.” He kisses your jaw. 

Reiner, Connie and Jean watched with dry mouths and erected cocks just begging to be free of their pants. You look over Eren and smile at them. “Well this isn’t a show, come on.” You reach your hand out and they instantly listen. Connie being the first one to connect his lips to yours. Reiner’s thick hands groping your waist and chest as Jean just made out with your neck. Eren stands back for a moment letting his friends enjoy his girl. 

After they took turns manhandling you Eren pushed them off to strip you down quite quickly, not even giving you a chance to understand what was happening. Not even leaving any room for surprises.

“I need you to show them how you suck my dick. Give them a preview of what’s coming.” He takes you by your neck and you whimper in response before dropping to your knees. Your body shivered from the sudden coldness, your nipples hardening. 

As you took Eren’s pants and boxers off for him he took his shirt off to expose his abs just the way you like it. His dick sprung up, hitting his lower stomach, your mouth watering at the sight. Pussy clenching around nothing, your thighs tightening together to soothe the ache. 

In the corner of your eyes the three boys slowly got undressed, rubbing their own cocks  while staring down at you. Observing your every move you make on Eren’s hard-on. 

Your smaller hands grab onto him, giving it gentle kisses with your licked lips. His member fidgets with every first touch you’ve made. You look up to him with a smile before sticking your tongue out, flattening it when his member lays in his mouth. He lets out a fluttery groan. 

“So perfect, angel.” He grabs ahold of your hair once your head starts to bob back and forth. 

The smutty sounds of his dick hitting the back of your throat and the sultry sucks of your hollowed cheeks. Eren pets your hair, fixing it after he grabbed it. “Th-there we go, just like that.” He huffs out. He turns to the three who are bewildered. “Jean, come here.” He orders, Jean slowly does so, standing on the right side of you. “Take his dick in your hand, angel.” 

You cooperate smoothly while swirling your tongue around Eren’s cock. Taking Jean’s member in hand, feeling it. He had similar size to Eren, maybe a little shorter but almost the same. You take Eren out of your mouth for a split second. “Spit in my hand.” You tell Jean who looks taken aback at first but does what he’s told. 

You get back to blowing the long haired boy as you begin to pump Jean slowly. Speeding up pace when you get a little too focused on Eren. Your hand tightening. “Oh fuck.” Jean throws his head back in pleasure from the vulgar handjob. 

“I’m getting close…” Eren takes your head with both hands and humps into your mouth, his dick now roughly thrusting in and out. “Take it, take it, make sure to swallow.” He whines deeply, his coarse words making your pussy even more drenched than it already was.

Eren shoves you further onto his cock, your nose touching his stomach as his seed fills down your throat. “Yeah, good girl, good girl.” He whispers, hearing your gags and moans. Your empty hand scraping down his thigh. 

He roughly lets you go and you let out coughs, recuperating. Getting your breathing back to normal. Eren lifts your face up. “Open.” He orders. You do so, he moves your head around making sure there was nothing left in there. He spits in your mouth before kissing you.

“You’re a bit mean.” Connie chuckles darkly. “She likes it.” Eren pets your face. “Don’t you, angel?” He crouches down to your level and you nod your head. Your hand still held onto Jean but it wasn’t moving. Jean didn’t mind though. His head was already filled with ideas of what he wanted to do with you. 

“Damn…” Connie murmurs. 

“Take it away Jean.” Eren smacks his friends back. Jean wanted to hit him back but instead his focus turned to you. “Stand up, sweetheart.” He spoke nicer to you than Eren just was. You take his extended hand and he helps you up. “On the bed.” He motions. 

You climb on the bed and sit on your needs, looking vulnerable but oh-so-gorgeous. Your lips plumped from Eren using your mouth so tastelessly. Your boobs on display for the whole room to see and your thighs are plump and soft-looking. “Lay back, I’m going to take care of you now.” Jean touches your shoulder and you adjust yourself. Putting pillows down where your head was going to lay so you could also watch what was going to happen to you. 

“I want a little taste.” He smiles, his calloused hands pulling your legs apart. “Beautiful cunt, don’t you boys think?” Jean moves out of the way for Reiner and Connie to see. Eren even glances over Jean’s shoulder as if he doesn’t see it on the regular. 

“Didn’t see you as a munch, horse boy.” You commentate, poking fun at your long time friend. “Yeah, yeah.” He kneels down, grabbing your hips and yanking you to the edge of the bed. You yelp at the unexpected action. He snickers. Jean kitten licks at your clit, toying with it up and down then side to side. You hum in response to it. He then sucks on it, keeping it between his lips. He earns a gasp from you. Feeding his ego. 

“Oh my goodness.” Your leg goes over his shoulder as he embarks on a new set of pace with his tongue. Lapping up all of your juices, exploring every crevice of your delectable pussy. 

“Shit, shit, that feels amazing.” You squeal, grabbing his hair with one hand and your other playing with your nipple. He pulls back for a singular moment to breathe it all in. “It tastes so sweet like candy.” He informs the two that watch. They were so invested in the scene before them that they weren’t even paying attention to their own cocks. 

Jean attacks your nub once more, his face moving side to side giving even more friction to you. Your pussy talking back to him, the wetness squelching with his eating. “I think she needs more attention, huh?” Jean chuckles, entering a singular finger inside your hole. “Ha-hah, add another.” You breathily moan, bringing him closer with your calf up against the back of his head. 

He does as you asked, his fingers pumping slowly in and out, matching what he did with his mouth. His fingers inspect your walls, curling to reach your g-spot. You jerk your hips up in response. “Are you getting close, angel?” Eren comes up next to you on the bed, rubbing his dick while watching your pornographic expression laid across your face. The scrunching of your nose indicating that you were about to reach your first orgasm of the night. “Mhm, ‘s so good, Eren.” You wail, chest heaving up and down. “Don’t tell me that, angel. Praise the one doing you.” He kisses your forehead.

“Jean, your doing fucking amazing.” You gritted out, tugging on his hair. “Mhm?” His voice vibrates onto your clit causing that chain reaction, your pussy walls pulsing and clenching down on his fingers as you squirt right into his mouth. 

“Fuck!” You scream, rolling your pelvis down to ride out the wave. “God damn.” Reiner huffs shakily, not ready for his turn after that. 

Once you let go of his hair Jean pulls back, his fingers leaving you empty. The three boys watch your little desperate hole gape, moving for absolutely nothing. “I need a sample real quick.” Connie flips you over without a warning and spreads your ass cheeks before he dives right into your already sensitive pussy. You let out a loud moan, your hand attempting to push his head back to no avail. His tongue and lips attacking your cunt like a mad-man who has never eaten before in his life.

 “Oh my god!” You cry out, your face hiding in the sheets, teeth biting down on the pillow. He pulls back so he can go back in and motorboat himself between your ass. “Fucking hell.” Connie says. “I’m sorry Jean but I can’t wait anymore.” He says to his roommate who just puts his hands up in understanding. Not stopping Connie whatsoever. 

The buzz-cut headed man spits down on his member, lathering it around with his hand.

 “Sorry for this, [Name] I’m just too impatient.” He apologizes quietly, you go to turn your head but he pushes it back down with his hand and without notice his dick is fully sheathed into that tight hole of yours. Your walls ping in pain for only a small moment. It was already distracted by the malicious, supersonic thrusts, in and out of your cunt. His hand smacking down on your ass cheeks.

Eren grins at the sight, he knew you enjoyed taking it rough. Eren stands up, getting his phone from his pants pocket and then going over to you. “Say cheese, angel.” He cooed at you. You lift your head up with a fuck-out smile, Connie doing a rock-and-roll sign with one hand as the other was gripping your ass roughly, his tongue sticking out. Eren clicks the button a few times, getting different angles. 

Your legs shake at the force of him pistoning in and out of you. Getting close once again just from Connie Springer fucking the absolute shit out fo you. “This pussy is ruining me.” He grunts, his thumb sliding down from your ass cheek to in between the other. Carefully maneuvering to your puckered other pink hole. “You like your asshole being toyed with? Ever stuck anything in here?” Connie asks as he slid his thumb around it. “No.” You shake your head. He smirks. “Glad I can be the first one.” He sticks it in with no remorse and your back stretches out. “Ho-holy fuck!” You scream out.

His thumb toys around your asshole, not going too deep but enough to know he’s there. You arch back down, wiggling closer to him as your tummy tightenings. “Gonna cum…” You mutter. “Really? You going to cum because of this dick?” Connie begins to repeatedly hit the back of your pussy, over and over again. “Mhm, go-gonna cum all over that dick, you dick!” 

“I’m a slut for this cock.” You huff. “A slut, huh?” He furrows his brows, slapping down on your ass another time. “Yeah a dirty fucking slut.” You answer him. 

“Yeah you are.” He laughs as your body begins to jerk and jolt. Waves of pleasure hitting you all at once and you let go. Your pussy creaming all over his dick along with squirt spraying out making a huge mess on the sheets with no one to catch it this time. “Gonna cum.” Connie lets you go, pushing you forward to take his dick out. His hand jerking it off really fast. His noises get stuck in his throat as he cums on your reddened ass cheeks. 

You lay there quietly, catching your breath after your second orgasm. Eren takes a picture of your cum sprayed ass, your own liquids dripping down your thighs along with the messied sheets all in frame. He lifts you up by your hair and shows you the picture. “Send me that.” You tiredly say. “Of course.” He snorts. 

“Who do you want next, angel? Jean or Reiner?” Eren quizzes you after wiping your ass with his cum rag that he had laying next to the bed already washed for tonight. “Both.” You lift yourself up, wagging your finger for the boys to get on the bed. Your face was a mess, tears stained cheeks, the little makeup you had on practically gone. 

You had laid Reiner down on the bed and had Jean stay at the edge of the bed. “Be patient.” Was all you said to him before you climbed on the dirty-blonde who was being super quiet. “Nice seeing you.” You say, reminding him of when you first entered the house. His face flushes. “You too.” 

You giggle, you stand on your toes as you squat all the way down. Looking down at his dick it was girthier than all the other guys. Nice size as well. You bite your bottom lip, excited. 

“Hold it up for me, handsome.” You tell him, his hand slowly goes to the base of his cock, standing it straight up for you. 

You hold onto his chest with both hands as you leveled yourself down on him. Aggravatingly slow until it filled you all the way. You fixed your footing before you bounced up and down. Still holding onto his pecs to keep yourself balanced. “Thick, thick dick.” You moaned out, your skin clapping each time you bounced down onto his thighs. “Tight pussy.” He grunts in response, slapping your ass. “Mhm, you think so?” You ask, it almost sounded sincere. “So perfect.” He whimpers. 

His hands go to your waist to help you keep going. You were rotating your hips perfectly but Reiner needed more. He enjoyed watching your perfect tits moving like water in front of his face but he had to fuck you. 

Reiner plants his feet down on the bed, thrusting his hips up causing you to fall forward on him. “Sorry, you were going too slow.” He holds you close with an arm over your waist, rutting his hips up into you. “It-it’s oka-ay!” You assure him, your legs drop letting him do all of the work now. “Hah- fuck!” You held onto him by his neck as he fucked you. Your face hiding in his chest. 

Eren takes another picture from where Jean was. “Get in there man.” Eren points to your ass. “She’s an anal virgin, perfect for you.” He winks. Jean’s cheeks turn pink from his friend's filthy mouth. 

Eren and you both lied, he’s been in your ass before, but you guys both knew they would enjoy hearing that you never did it. Reiner notices what Jean was about to do so he slowed down, letting you lean slightly back up. Jean comes up behind after making sure his dick was lathered with a mixture of his pre-cum and spit. He takes some of your own cum that was on Reiners dick and adds it to his own. 

Reiner stops but keeps you on his chest as Jean slowly enters your asshole. You let out a cry, gripping even tighter onto the blond. “You okay?” Jean stops just right past his tip. “Keep going, keep going.” You encourage him. 

He thrusts forward until he bottoms out. Reiner felt Jean's dick on the other side when he began to move. You practically felt them rubbing up on another inside you. Connie joins you three on the bed, standing over you to get an even better view. Eren as the pro-photography he was becoming takes a few more photos from different angles as you get fucked in the ass and pussy at the same time. 

You notice Connie and you grab onto his thigh. “C’mere.” You pull him close and he puts his leg on the other side of Reiner so he is right in front of you now. 

“Fuck my throat.” You crudely tell him. Connie smirks, taking your head with one hand, sliding his dick into your mouth. “Give me the phone Eren.” Connie reaches out and the brunette hands it over. Connie takes a video of himself facefucking you as you yourself get fucked. 

Eren does a peace sign in the background, rubbing his cock with his other hand. 

+Extra+

The four boys were in the kitchen as you were sound asleep in the room after being cleaned up. “That was insane.” Jean takes a drink of water. Reiner nodded in agreement. “I told you man, she’s something else.” Eren laughs, leaning against the counter. 

“She really knows how to take dick. I would’ve never guessed it either.” Connie talks to himself as he watches the video he took. “You were hiding that from us for too long.” The bald-headed boy hands the phone back to its owner. “Well I had to do a build up somehow. Didn’t even know what you were missing.” Eren grins proudly. 

“Wife her up.” Jean points a finger in his friend's chest. “Yeah because now that I know that exists… I might have to steal her away.” Connie puts his hands up defensively before leaving the kitchen.

“Hate to agree.” Reiner chuckles.

----------------------------

This took me... 4 hours to make? Smut takes me a very long time... I hope it was good though omg. Second time making a smut imagine:0

[b1eedthefreak]

Chismosa

daryl x hispanic!reader

warnings: none!

reader speaks spanish in here by the way ^o^

⸻

Things in Alexandria had… shifted.

You’d gone from fighting walkers in blood slick boots to walking the safe streets in thighhigh socks and lip gloss. Rosita was leaning against the porch rail of your shared house, sipping sweet tea, while you lay on your stomach in the grass like a content cat, legs kicking behind you.

“Daryl looks like he hasn’t brushed his hair in three days,” Rosita said flatly, nodding toward the man in question.

You laughed, “Tres días? Ni sabe qué es un cepillo.”

You both BURST out laughing, clutching your sides, tears in your eyes. Rosita tried to compose herself but failed miserably when you mimicked Daryl’s signature arm swing and grunted like him under your breath.

Daryl, who’d been leaning against the fence a few feet away with his crossbow in hand, snapped his head toward the two of you. He didn’t say a word, but the shift in his body was obvious. He let out a very dramatic grunt, swung his arms all angry like, and stomped away toward the communal center like a toddler.

Rosita raised her brows. “Okay what was that?”

You sat up, blinking. “I… don’t know? Did we offend the forest prince?”

Later that evening, you walked into the dining area with a tray of food, scanning the room until your eyes landed on him. Daryl stood near the corner, hunched over like usual, trying to act like he wasn’t waiting for you. You grinned and made your way over, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Hi baby,”

He grunted.

You blinked. “Um. What was that? I can’t kiss you anymore?”

Daryl shifted, clearly stewing about something. “Saw ya earlier. Laughin’ with Rosita. Pointin’. Talkin’ in Spanish. ‘S obvious.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused. “What’s obvious?”

He avoided your gaze, muttering, “Y’all were laughin’ at me.”

You made the most dramatic gasp, slapping your forehead. “Daryl. Oh my God. You do think the world revolves around you!”

His scowl deepened, jaw tense.

You stepped closer, hands on your hips. “No one was laughing at you. We were talking about this guy Rosita used to date.. dude looked like he got a tattoo from a Cracker Jack box. You think you’re that funny?”

He grunted again, looking away, embarrassed now.

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek again. “I’m gonna kill you Dixon.”

⸻

Bonus

Later that night, Alexandria Library

You found him in the back of the tiny library, sitting awkwardly on a couch with a book open in his lap.

You raised a brow. “Is that… Spanish for Beginners?”

He gave a grunt of protest but didn’t close the book. “Ain’t lettin’ y’all talk circles ‘round me…”

You sat beside him, smirking as you opened your own book. “Awwe! Look at you. Wanting to impress your girlfriend.”

“Didn’t say that,” he mumbled.

“Didn’t have to.” You nudged him. “Come on, say ‘Te amo.’”

He squinted. “Tay… ammo?”

You laughed so hard you fell against his side. “Close enough. I’ll teach you.”

⸻

[onlymingyus]

Drive It Like You Stole It (teaser)

pairing; yoon jeonghan x f reader (x kim mingyu)

genre; smut (minor dni), TOXIC, heavy angst, university au, 00's au

summary; A girl in a red dress sees me. A girl in a red dress swoons. I’m not done tonight. What do you make of it? I got a little red Corvette parked outside with your name.

content warnings; mental and verbal abuse, shaming, jealousy, jeonghan isn't your knight in shining armor, alcohol, eating/drinking, smoking, reckless driving, degrading names, fighting/arguing, crying, depression, stress/anxiety, mention of parents/arguing with parents, fuckboy mentality, lovebombing, yandere!jeonghan

smut warnings; unprotected sex, outdoor sex, car sex, virgin!reader, oral (f & m giving/receiving), fingering, dirty talk, degrading/praising, pet names, crying, impact play

w/c; 27k and some change [3.8k teaser] (569 patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading. you know i am always grateful, but i know this one was heavy. please read all the warnings and know this is the most toxic fic i've ever written. it might not be your cup of tea. but if you do read, I hope you enjoy it!

this fic will be released 6/1 to read the full fic with the bonus now subscribe to my patreon and click here

Tapping his fingers against the counter, Jeonghan sighs as he waits for you to answer him. He had to admit, your text didn’t really sound like how he expected you to text. It was too perky, but then again, he had only met you for a few minutes. 

“Dude… If you don’t stock the freezer, I swear to God I will shove this mop up your ass. I promise you won’t like it.” 

“How do you know?” Avoiding an empty bottle of cleaner, Jeonghan laughs as he pops back up over the counter to meet Joshua Hong’s eyes. He enjoyed the days his schedule overlapped with his best friend's. They had met in middle school, decided to share a desk, become best friends, and ruin their homeroom teacher’s morning all on the same day. 

“I’m not kidding. I want to get out of here and get to Mina’s.” 

That was code for I want to get my dick wet and that Jeonghan could respect. Holding up his hands, Jeonghan leaves his phone on the counter as he moves to the walk-in freezer, dragging out a few of the large containers of ice cream that needed to be replaced. Joshua was right anyway; the quicker this was done, the faster they both could get out of here and on to something bigger and better. 

Seeing Jeonghan’s phone light up, Joshua lifts his brows, letting his curiosity get the better of him while Jeonghan switches out the tubs of ice cream. “Who’s Y/N? Is this the college girl you’re trying to fuck?” 

You had texted him back. Dropping the ice cream without much care, Jeonghan smirks, swiping his phone out of Joshua’s hand so he can read your text. 

Y/N: Just in my room. Not really doing anything. Might take a walk in a bit. WBU?

Now this sounded more like what Jeonghan expected you to text like. Lifting his brows, he nods to Joshua’s question, resting his hip against the counter as his thumbs move quickly along the keys on his phone. “Yeah, she’s cute as hell. Just my type…” 

Jeonghan: Sounds cute. Want company? I’m finishing up at work xx 

Joshua knew what that meant—just Jeonghan’s type. Rolling his eyes, Joshua wrings out the mop one last time as Jeonghan finishes his text, that stupid smirk on his lips. “So she’s helpless and probably dumber than a box of rocks. Could you be any more deranged?” 

Shooting Joshua a dirty look, Jeonghan puts his phone back down on the counter with an annoyed sigh. “No. I mean, not all of that. She’s not dumb. In fact, she’s a pre-med student. So take that and shove it up your ass, Hong.” He couldn’t fight Joshua on the point that you were helpless. You had looked like you were made of glass and just the right amount of pressure might cause you to crack. Jeonghan couldn’t wait to see how much pressure that was. 

Y/N: You want to go on a walk with me? Is that boring?

“Ooo, pre-med. She could still be stupid. I mean, fuck… She’s talking to you.” 

“Fuck you. I’m a catch and you know it. Finish your mopping and go stick your dick in Mina. You are mean when you’re horny, Shua.” 

Not hiding his amusement as Jeonghan sulks at his phone, Joshua shakes his head. “And you are a sensitive pussy when you aren’t getting any. Hope she puts out.” Dodging a pen being launched at his head by Jeonghan, Joshua laughs as he pushes his mop and bucket towards the back. 

“Asshole…” Joshua wasn’t wrong. Jeonghan was on edge. He had put all of his eggs in one basket this week, that basket being you. He didn’t have anything else lined up; there was only you and a hope that you’d be worth his time. Were you already playing hard to get or was this confused routine you were playing at over text real? 

Jeonghan: Not boring. I’ll finish up here in like 20 mins and head towards the campus. See you soon bbz xx 

You were panicking. This had not been the plan. You always took a walk in the evening. That had been your reasoning behind telling Jeonghan about it, not so that he would take it as an invitation to join you. Why would he even want to do that? 

Quickly sliding off your bed, you whine under your breath, standing in front of your floor-length mirror attached to the back of your dorm door. You were not in the condition to be hanging out with anyone, much less someone like Jeonghan. You didn’t even know this guy and he already made you so nervous your hands wouldn’t stop trembling. 

It took the entire twenty minutes and then some for you to get dressed and to slap on a fresh coat of makeup that made you look decent without seeming like you were trying too hard. It was just a walk; literally nothing special about that at all and yet you now had clothes scattered across your bed from the amount of outfits you had deemed not good enough before settling on a pair of jean shorts and a light sweater. 

By the time that you stand in front of the mirror again, fussing over the details, you hear your ringtone obnoxiously blaring as your phone vibrates loudly on your desk. Clearing your throat, you look down at Jeonghan’s name on the phone in your hand before flipping it open and putting it to your ear and smiling so that you sound more confident than you feel. “Hello?” 

“Hi, gorgeous. Where the hell am I going? There are too many dorms and I don’t wanna look like a creeper driving around the campus in circles…” 

Jeonghan’s voice causes your stomach to tighten and heat up. You felt like you should ask him to stop calling you pet names, but at the same time, did you really want that? You were enjoying it too much. “Um—” Laughing softly into the phone, you grab your keys and lock your door behind you. “So I’m at Elkstone Hall…” 

Leaning to look at the signs, Jeonghan mutters the names mostly to himself before nodding. “Elkstone, got it. Be there in like two seconds…” 

“‘Kay, um, hey… You can park in 287. That—that’s my spot. I don’t actually have a car, but they gave me a spot anyway.” 

Smirking to himself, Jeonghan glances towards the building in front of him before turning into the parking lot, searching the spots by the numbers on the ground. “Gotcha. 270—Oh, got it. Nice spot… Must have cost Mommy and Daddy out the ass to get.” 

You aren’t sure why Jeonghan’s comment makes you slow your steps, but yet you still laugh, awkwardly tilting your head. “Um, yeah. Wasn’t cheap, but it was required. You know, in case I get a car or something. Plus my parents use it when they visit… So not a complete waste of money.” 

This was a good judge of your character already. You were timid about something as simple as how much a parking spot cost—interesting. Jeonghan could hear a bit of shame in your voice when you talked about it. Your family probably had money, but you didn’t brag about it and didn’t show off. So sweet and pure. Smirking to himself, Jeonghan locks his car and glances towards the building, seeing you waiting on the sidewalk, your phone pressed up against your cheek. Sweet, pure, fucking adorable, and his. 

“Nah, makes sense, Gorgeous. I’m here, by the way.” Lifting his hand to get your attention, Jeonghan takes his phone away from his ear and hits end when you finally do meet his eyes. “You always look this fucking cute when you take a walk?” He was still a few feet away, but Jeonghan could almost see the embarrassment coming off you in waves as you tugged at the sleeves of your sweater.  

“I—what? No, I don’t look cute.” You couldn’t look at Jeonghan, not directly at least. He was standing right in front of you now; you could feel his eyes on you, but it was akin to feeling the sun on your skin. “Just, you know, pulled on something.” 

Jeonghan doubted that very much. He could see the bit of makeup you must have put on, though he doubted that you needed it. You had put in some effort to come outside because he was going to be here. It was cute and you were so shy that his head was going to explode. Reaching up to push his index finger under your chin, Jeonghan bites his bottom lip as he meets your eyes. “You’re perfect and you look cute. Come on, I’m here for an evening stroll.” 

Looking down at Jeonghan’s hand, his palm facing up as he waits for you to take it, you feel your hands start to shake slightly. Guys never made you this nervous. Not that you took much time to date. There had been a guy or two here and there, but nothing that ever lasted for long. You were too busy and, worst of all, in their opinion, wouldn’t give it up. You weren’t a virgin, just not heavily experienced like the guys at university expected you to be. You weren’t getting on your knees at the sight of a cute guy wanting to look at his probably very ugly dick. So why now was this guy you had met a single time making you feel weak? 

“Why?” Clearing your throat, you shake your head gently, sliding your hand into Jeonghan’s and feeling him lace his fingers with yours. “I mean, why would you wanna come all the way out here to take a walk with me?” 

Jeonghan liked the feeling of your hand in his. He liked how you let him hold your hand properly. This wasn’t any of that middle school hand-holding; this was fingers laced, palms together hand-holding. This made girls know you were sincere about what you were saying—or at least seem like you were. “Well, baby doll, because I wanna get to know you. Isn’t it obvious that I like you?” 

Could he feel your heart beating hard? It felt like it was beating so hard and quick that it was radiating throughout your entire body. The smile that pulls at your lips has you feeling even more shy as you lower your head and turn slightly away from Jeonghan. This was insane. Jeonghan’s words had to feel like you were both drowning and flying at the same time. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around so quickly that you almost felt sick, but when he stopped walking and guided you back towards him, you whined. “No, I mean—this is crazy. You don’t even know me.” 

Your cheek is hot under Jeonghan’s thumb as he gently lifts your face back up so he can look at you again. “It’s not crazy. Crazy is not realizing you were in this stupid town all this time.” Laughing when you whine again, Jeonghan gives you a bit of mercy, moving his hand from your face and letting you walk beside him again. “I told you, I wanna get to know you. The good, the bad, the ugly...”

Sighing under your breath, you gently tug at Jeonghan’s fingers as you turn to walk backwards for a moment, looking at him to make sure he’s serious. The look on his face seems so sincere that it breaks your resolve. Moving back to his side, you let yourself linger closer to him, not seeing the smirk on his face as you give him exactly what he wants. “Okay. Um, then you should know that the first text today wasn’t from me.” Furrowing your brows, you timidly look up to meet Jeonghan’s eyes afraid that you’ll see disappointment behind them, but instead you just see slight amusement. “Megan took my phone.”

“Ah… That makes more sense. I thought you seemed different from one text to another. Less—” Laughing into his words, Jeonghan sways a bit on his feet, playfully pulling you with him, enjoying how easy it is to make you laugh along with him. “Perky.”  

Jeonghan was making this easy. You were enjoying this. It felt natural. Nothing was expected of you. Just a girl taking a walk with a cute guy who could make her laugh. It almost felt too good to be true. “Mm, yeah. She’s like that, but she means well. She’s maybe overly excited about the possibility of—” The idea of saying anything about you and Jeonghan makes your nerves take over you in that moment. The bit of confidence you had gained in those few moments fades away just like your words, your eyes on the ground. 

“Possibility of?” Bumping his arm into yours, Jeonghan smiles at your sudden mood change. You were interesting. Not just a beautiful face and a body he’d love to ravish, but a mind he’d love to explore for at least a little while. Jeonghan could see himself getting addicted to you quickly. “Possibility of this? Me and you, baby? Why are you scared of it? I’m not gonna bite you.” 

He had a point. Jeonghan hadn’t done a single thing wrong. In fact, he had only done a hundred things right so far. You hadn’t known him long and maybe all the pet names this quick was a little bit of a shock, but they kind of felt nice to hear. You didn’t mind being Jeonghan’s baby, his baby doll, or being called gorgeous. “I don’t know. Haven’t had the best track record with guys—” 

“Fuck ‘em. They aren't me, Y/N.” Taking a step backward, Jeonghan guides you with him until he reaches the retaining wall. “I’m not some burnout, college dipshit, who’s just wasting his daddy’s money...” Jeonghan doesn’t hide his smirk when you gasp at the feeling of him picking you up and sitting you on the short retaining wall so he can stand between your thighs, getting eye level with you. He liked having you like this. He knew that if he touched your cheeks again, they’d be hot like you’d been standing next to an oven. Standing like this, Jeonghan could slide his hands over your knees, testing the waters and keeping his fingers from going any higher. “You know that, right, baby doll?” 

Nodding quickly, feeling chill bumps erupting along your skin under Jeonghan’s fingers, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Uh huh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” 

“Shh, I know. Just—fuck.” Glancing down at your legs, Jeonghan carefully slides his hands along your thighs, squeezing gently at the meatiest part and hearing you gasp only to swallow the sound. You were fucking perfect. Everything about you. From the way you looked to the way you reacted to him. “Making me have to remind myself to behave.” Putting on a smooth, sweet smile, Jeonghan meets your eyes once again, noticing how your lips are parted just slightly as if you were on the edge of a moan. God, what he wouldn’t give to pull it out of you. Patience. He had to be patient. “You know none of the guys on this stupid, fucking campus deserve you, right? You know that, gorgeous?” 

Jeonghan’s fingers glide over your skin, staying closer to your knees, but you can still feel him higher on your legs. You feel the shame bubbling inside you because you want him to touch you like that again. Swallowing hard, you nod, agreeing with Jeonghan quickly even if you don’t actually agree with him. Why were you doing that? Did it even matter? 

“That’s right. You know it. My smart girl.” Brushing this thumb over your cheek, Jeonghan coos softly as your lips part once again, your eyes falling to his lips before, quick as lightning, looking away. You wanted to kiss him. The feeling was mutual. “It’s getting late and I wouldn’t dare risk you being out here after dark without me. Not with these shorts on, angel.” 

Starting to speak to tell Jeonghan you’ve worn these shorts hundreds of times and nothing has ever happened to you, you stop when his thumb brushes over your bottom lip. The action not only stuns you but also does wonders to keep you agreeable. “Uh huh… okay, Jeonghan.” 

Like clay in his hands already. You were speaking so sweetly, almost lazily, against his thumb. Jeonghan bet he could get you to do almost anything he wanted right now, but that would ruin the fun of this and the point of it. You were pumping through his veins now. He had thought he could get addicted… He just didn’t know how fast. 

With you walking back at his side, your fingers laced with his, Jeonghan smiles, feeling your head lean towards his shoulder. It was almost night and day compared to the walk to the end of the road to coming back to the large, ugly building you were calling home. Jeonghan hated it already. It looked too much like a prison and like somewhere he couldn’t get into on a whim. “What do you have left to do tonight, baby?” 

God, you loved that. Baby. You shouldn’t. You weren’t anything to Jeonghan. Not yet. You couldn’t be—that was impossible—and yet you felt like getting down on your knees and begging him to give it a label already—but you had more pride than that still. “Um, I was working on—” Smiling at the idea of what you had been doing, you shake your head and lean your head back, feeling embarrassed. “God, it’s stupid. I was getting a head start on my reading for my classes next week.” 

A little overachiever. That’s adorable. Smirking to himself as the thoughts cross his mind, Jeonghan nods along with you, letting your fingers slide to the end of his as you start to walk backwards toward the building. “Can’t even let yourself enjoy a break properly, huh? Good thing you got me to take you to a party and keep you distracted for a night, right? What am I going to do with you, sweetheart?” 

Swallowing hard when Jeonghan takes a step towards you so that he can slide his arm around your waist, you press your lips together and shake your head. “I—I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” Carefully moving his fingers along your back, Jeonghan bunches your sweater into his hand, letting out a soft sigh into his words. “Gotta get you to relax somehow.” 

Your eyes migrate down to Jeonghan’s lips one more time, but this time they linger before you watch them pull up into a smile. “I—I can relax. ‘M relaxed…” 

You were practically begging for it. You were looking at Jeonghan’s lips like they were made of candy. Licking his lips, Jeonghan nods along with your stumbled words as he rocks you in his arms once, just back and forth, testing how stiff you are. “Don’t seem very relaxed. Seem focused on something. You wanna ask for something, baby doll?” 

Why was he making you ask for it? Didn’t guys just usually do what they wanted anyway? No guy that you had never gone on a date with had asked you or made you ask for a kiss. You’d get back to the door or, god forbid, their apartment, and they’d just kiss you or try to make a move. Jeonghan was clearly so different. Whining under your breath, you furrow your brows, starting to turn your head away, only for Jeonghan to gently hold your head in place with his thumb and forefinger on your chin. 

“Ask me or I won’t kiss you. Say please, baby.” 

It felt degrading and yet your knees were weak, making you rely on Jeonghan to keep you upright. “I—please, Jeonghan.” Seeing him nod once as if to tell you to keep going, you blink a few times and lick your lips, trying to gain the confidence to speak up. “Please kiss me?” 

Perfect. Pliable. His. 

Cooing at your request, Jeonghan pouts slightly, running his fingers behind your ear before sighing. “You are beautiful and you asked so sweetly. I don’t know if I should…” 

Just when you think Jeonghan isn’t going to give you what you had asked for, that he’s going to make you ask him again, beg for it, he smiles and presses his lips against yours, taking your breath away. You feel boneless for a moment, no air in your lungs; it’s like your heart paused for just a couple of seconds to let you live in that moment until Jeonghan’s lips are off yours. The second that happens, your chest practically aches. Your brows furrow tightly, your fingers digging into the sides of Jeonghan’s shirt to keep him close to you as he laughs softly under his breath, giving into you and brushing his lips against yours for just a second more. 

“Time for you to go inside and get ready for bed, baby. I wanna see you get through that door before I leave. Make sure nothing touches my girl.” 

His girl. Sighing almost as if you were swooning over Jeonghan, because if you were honest with yourself, you were swooning, you nod to his words. “Mmkay. You’ll text me?” 

You were his. What a silly question for you to ask, and yet that question made Jeonghan pleased. You were just as hooked as he was. “Of course I will. Now—” Sliding his hand from yours, Jeonghan kisses your cheek, letting his hand that had been on your back slide over your ass before he takes a step back from you. “Get your cute little ass inside. Be a good girl.” 

Maybe Jeonghan hadn’t meant to let his hand go that low, but your face was on fire again. Biting at your thumbnail, you just nod and walk backwards for a couple of steps before finally turning to walk normally. Every couple of steps, you look over your shoulder to see if Jeonghan is doing what he said to find him with his hands resting in his jacket pockets as he watches you make your way to the door. 

Jeonghan waits until the door shuts before he grins and turns back towards the parking lot. Taking the keys from his pocket, he shakes his head and lifts his brows, feeling the rush of adrenaline pulsing through him. This had gone better than he could have imagined it going. Sliding behind the wheel of his Corvette, Jeonghan takes out his cellphone and smirks. He could wait and send you a message later but why when you were already wrapped around his finger? 

Jeonghan: You are already running circles in my mind, baby girl. I can’t wait to see you on Friday. xx <3 

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[ekybrini]

Back to Strangers | LUKE HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | Libby Carter, a college student who has sworn off any athletes after hearing the amount of rumors of how they treat people. When Luke Hughes, a persistent hockey player, starts pursuing her as part of a bet with his friends, Libby is determined to keep her distance. But as they spend more time together, she starts to question whether his feelings are real or just part of the game.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that i know of)

— ⟡ word counts | 1.9k

— ⟡ gab's note | hii ! im so excited to finally start writing again after a while. I finally got the energy to actually write something after months and come back to tumblr. hopefully I can post more (senior year is kicking my ass at the moment so hopefully after the semester is over I can post and write more!) I think this can potentially become a au (we'll see!) anyways im sorry for the inactiveness, but I promise to try to be more active! also I apologize for how long this is

“Dude, I’m just saying, you’re all talk,” Ethan teased, leaning across the booth at their usual hangout, a local diner near campus. The rest of the guys Seamus, Mackie, and a couple of others were clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I’m not ‘all talk,’” Luke shot back, stabbing his fork into his pancakes. “I just don’t waste my time on relationships.”

“That’s because you couldn’t even if you tried,” Mackie chimed in with a smug grin.

Luke snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, seriously,” Seamus added, leaning in. “You think you could get any girl you want, but there’s one who would never go for you.”

Ethan smirked, a challenge lighting up his eyes. He gestured subtly across the room. “Libby Carter.”

Luke followed his gaze and saw her immediately. Libby sat alone at a table, curled over a thick textbook, twirling a pen between her fingers. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she was dressed in oversized Michigan sweatpants and sweatshirt that swallowed her frame. She was pretty, no doubt, but there was something about her that seemed untouchable. She didn’t go to parties and barely looked at guys, she was mostly in her own world.

“Good luck with that,” Mackie added.

Luke leaned back in his seat, his smirk growing. “You guys really think I couldn’t make her fall for me?”

Seamus grinned. “Bet you fifty bucks you can’t get her to fall for you by the end of the year.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of challenge and amusement. “Easy money.”

“Hold on.” Ethan raised a hand, cutting through the banter. “Fall for you. Not just go on a date. Not just hook up. She has to actually like you.”

Luke thought for just a moment, the implications settling in. That was different. But his pride wouldn’t let him back down.

“Fine,” he said, shaking on it.

☆

Libby Carter had three rules coming to college:

1. Keep your grades up.

2. Avoid distractions.

3. Never, under any circumstances, date an athlete.

The last rule wasn’t some baseless prejudice. It was a fact. The University of Michigan athletics team, specifically the hockey team had a reputation of a mix of cocky attitudes, effortless charm, and just enough talent to make girls “fall” for them before moving on like the next game on their schedule. Libby had seen it happen too many times, and she wasn’t about to be another statistic.

Which is why, when Luke Hughes star defenseman, future devil player, and walking definition of temptation started showing up everywhere she went, she found it incredibly weird.

Libby was used to keeping her distance, to keeping people at arm's length, especially athletes who believed they could charm their way into anyone’s heart. She had more important things to focus on like her studies, her future, and avoiding distractions at all costs.

But Luke was persistent. The first time he approached her, she brushed him off.

"I’m really not interested," she said, her voice cool and detached as she glanced at him, then quickly looked away.

Luke didn’t back down. "I get it, but I just wanted to say hi. No pressure."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hi? That’s all you came over here for?"

He nodded, smiling a little. "Yep. I promise, I’m not trying to sell you anything."

She chuckled dryly. "Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded in being the most annoying person I’ve met today."

Luke laughed, unfazed. "I’ll take that as a compliment. Can I try again tomorrow?"

She shook her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "no.”

"I’ll be back." he said, grinning

And with that, he left her with a lingering sense of curiosity.

The second time, she shot him a look that could have frozen him in his tracks. But Luke wasn’t one to give up easily. And when it came to proving something to his teammates, he never backed down.

"Seriously?" she said, her voice like ice. "You’re still here?"

Luke’s confidence wavered for just a moment, and he almost considered turning around and walking away. But he shook off the fear, his pride kicking in. He wasn’t about to back down out of the bet now.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a little tighter than he intended. "Still here. Just thought I’d try again."

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing to slits. "And what exactly are you trying to prove? That you’re persistent?"

"Maybe," Luke said, forcing himself to stand tall despite the sudden unease. "But I’m also a man of my word. I said 'tomorrow' last time. I’m just here to keep my promise."

Her gaze didn’t soften, but he could’ve sworn there was a flicker of something in her eyes was it amusement? He couldn’t tell.

"You’re relentless," she muttered.

Luke let out a nervous laugh, trying to regain his footing. "I like to think of it as determination."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but her stance was a little less intimidating now. "Well, don’t think you’re winning any awards here."

Luke held up his hands in mock surrender, forcing a grin. "No awards. Just a friendly hello. That’s all."

He was still shaking off the sting of that cold look, but something told him he wasn’t done yet.

☆

It wasn’t long before Luke’s presence became impossible to ignore.

At first, Libby thought it was just a coincidence when she saw him in the library, a place she frequented to escape the chaos of the dorms and study in peace. Luke, the star defenseman who could have any girl he wanted, hunched over a stack of papers and books, clearly out of his element. She thought maybe he was there for the same reason quiet study time though she had her doubts.

When the pattern repeated itself, though, Libby had to admit something odd was happening. Luke showed up at the coffee shop right when she ordered her regular, a steaming caramel macchiato. He somehow ended up sitting next to her in the huge lecture hall, despite having no real reason to be there. He started bringing up random facts about in economics, as if trying to make conversation in their econ class. Libby had no patience for it, but even she couldn’t deny the way he challenged her, poked at her intellectual comfort zone. And the more she pushed him away, the more he persisted.

“Do you have a reason for following me around?” Libby finally demanded one day after they ran into each other in the library for what felt like the hundredth time.

Luke looked up from his notes, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Who says I’m following you?”

“You sit next to me in class, even though you’ve never done it before.”

“Maybe I realized Econ is more fun with company.”

“You don’t even take notes.” libby said with clear annoyance.

“I have a great memory aka photographic memory,” Luke shot back with a wink.

Libby rolled her eyes, clearly fed up. “Look, if this is some kind of game, I’m not playing.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, the easy smile never leaving his face. “What makes you think it’s a game?”

“Because no one suddenly starts to follow around someone unless they have something they want.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “and what exactly would i want?”

“you know exactly what i’m talking about” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Girls who don’t fall for the whole hockey player charm.”

Luke hesitated, unsure how to respond. Part of him knew she wasn’t entirely off base. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up just yet.

“I like a challenge,” he said with a shrug, flashing her a grin.

Libby scoffed. “Good luck with that, Hughes.”

And yet, she couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered just a little bit longer, his eyes never quite leaving her.

☆

Luke had noticed Libby sitting alone in the corner of the library for the past few days. Her nose buried in a textbook, surrounded by notebooks, and coffee cups. She was quiet and intense.

But there he was, walking up to her table, feeling the weight of his decision with every step. His friends had dared him. They had said it would be funny if he actually pulled it off. But deep down, Luke wasn’t sure why he wanted to get to know Libby. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was because there was something about her that made him want to prove he could get through the wall she put up. Either way, he knew one thing for sure he was going to try.

He cleared his throat as he reached her table, leaning against the edge to keep his balance. Libby didn’t even look up, her eyes scanning the pages of her book with laser focus.

“what do you want hughes?” Libby said clearly annoyed of his presence

"Hey, Libby," he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little more nervous than he intended.

She didn’t respond. Her fingers flipped to the next page, like she hadn’t heard him at all.

Luke hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should continue or just walk away. But the thought of his friends would not let him back down now. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I was, wondering if you’d want to study together for the upcoming econ test?" he asked, unsure of what he was really expecting. The words sounded stupid even to him, but he pushed forward. "I mean, we both know this material. Thought it might be easier to go over it with someone else, you know?"

Libby’s eyes flickered up to meet his, just for a brief second, before she went back to her book, clearly unimpressed.

"I study alone," she said, her voice flat and uninterested.

Luke didn’t take the rejection well, but he wasn’t about to let it go so easily. He had a point to prove, both to his friends and to himself. So, he pressed on.

"I get that. I mean, I do too," he said, trying to sound cool, like they were just two people casually discussing a study session. "But it’s just, uh, I heard you’re pretty good at this stuff. You know, the whole economic thing. And I figured you might want to go over a few things with me. Could help you out too, right?"

He could feel her staring at him, though she said nothing. He was so close now that he could almost see the tiny furrow in her brow, the slight irritation building behind her eyes. He knew this wasn’t going well, but Luke wasn’t the type to give up. He leaned in a little closer.

"I’m serious. I’m not asking for a charity case or anything," he added quickly, trying to sound more genuine. "I just thought it’d be a good way to get this over with."

Libby’s gaze stayed fixed on him for a long moment, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle she was trying to figure out. Luke braced himself for her to turn him down again, but then, to his surprise, she spoke.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll study with you, but only if you leave me alone after this, especially with following me around."

Luke blinked, not sure if she was being sarcastic or serious, but he nodded quickly, trying to mask the sudden burst of excitement in his chest. "I get it. Just, you know, the studying part."

Libby gave him a curt nod. "Yeah, whatever. We’ll meet here tomorrow, same time." She turned her attention back to her notes, clearly signaling that the conversation was over.

Luke stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He’d actually gotten her to agree. He had spent so much time imagining how this would go, and it had ended with Libby of all people giving in. It wasn’t the most enthusiastic acceptance, but it was something. He smiled to himself, relieved that he hadn’t been shot down completely.

"Thanks, Libby," he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. "I won’t let you down."

She didn’t respond, her eyes now fixed firmly on her textbook as she scribbled notes with a speed that almost made Luke dizzy. He stood there for a moment longer, watching her, unsure of what else to say or do. Finally, he turned and walked away, the sound of her pen on paper the only noise filling the quiet of the library.

The next day, Luke showed up early, a little nervous but excited to see how it would go. He had never studied with someone like Libby before. She was serious, focused, and didn’t waste time with small talk. It was a stark contrast to his usual study sessions with his friends, where there was always some kind of distraction or joke in the air. But Luke was determined to make the most of it.

Libby was already there, sitting in the same spot, her books spread out in front of her. She didn’t even look up when he walked in, which, somehow, made Luke feel a little more at ease. He grabbed a chair, sitting down across from her, trying his best to ignore the fact that she was barely acknowledging his presence.

"Ready?" he asked, hoping to break the silence.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she just gave him a quick glance, then sighed as she flipped through her notes.

"Let’s get this over with," she said, and Luke couldn’t help but grin.

She didn’t like him, but she had agreed to study. And for now, that was enough.

After a while, one study session became a whole month study session. In which both of them met twice a week to study together.

"That’s... impressive," he said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet but sincere.

Libby didn’t look up. "Yeah, well, it’s not that hard if you actually pay attention."

Luke chuckled, leaning against the table. "I don’t think I’ve ever been that focused on anything."

Libby finally glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you should start. Then you might pass the next test."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair point. But I’m hoping you’ll be my secret weapon."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I don’t do secret weapons," she said, her tone a little less harsh but still firm.

Luke smiled, feeling a brief sense of connection, even if it was just fleeting. "Alright, no secret weapons. Just trying to survive here."

For a long moment, there was just silence between them again. Luke shifted awkwardly, realizing he had no idea how to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t used to talking to someone who shut down his attempts at charm so easily. But there was something oddly comforting about it. She wasn’t impressed by him, and for the first time in a long while, Luke didn’t feel the need to prove himself.

Finally, he let out a quiet laugh. "I’ll leave you to it, then. See you tomorrow?"

Libby nodded without looking up. "Yeah. Don’t make me regret it."

Luke had always prided himself on being a guy who didn’t get emotionally attached. Relationships were messy. They took time, effort, and a lot of care. And that wasn’t something he was interested in. Not with his career on the line and his focus on hockey. But somehow, spending time with Libby made him rethink everything.

It wasn’t instant, but it was inevitable. He found himself waiting for their study sessions, looking forward to their debates in class, and wanting to hear her opinion on everything from the economy to the latest sports scandals. She was smart, sharp, and had a sense of humor that kept him on his toes. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was just playing a part or living up to some stereotype. With Libby, he was himself.

☆

It happened one night, during one of their late-night study sessions. They had finished working on their assignments, and the conversation had shifted from academic talk to something more personal.

“You really hate hockey players, don’t you?” Luke asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Libby sighed, rubbing her temples. “It’s not that I hate hockey players. It’s just that I’ve seen how you guys treat people. You come, you charm, and you leave. I’m not falling for that.”

Luke hesitated, the weight of her words hitting harder than he expected. “Not all of us are like that.”

Libby shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too cautious, but I’ve seen too many girls fall for that routine.”

Luke wasn’t sure how to respond, but the sincerity in her voice made him realize just how much he was beginning to care about her. He didn’t just want to prove her wrong.

There was a long pause, the tension between them thick. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to break the silence. Luke’s mind raced, but he finally said what had been on his mind for a while now.

“Libby,” he started, his voice a little steadier now, though still laced with a touch of vulnerability, “we’ve been studying together for a month. And yeah, I get that you don’t really think highly of me or anyone for that matter. But... I’m not like that.”

She raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“I’m not asking you to change your mind overnight,” he continued. “But I’d really like the chance to show you I’m different. To prove it, you know?” He took a deep breath. “At least go on one date with me. Just one. No pressure, no expectations. Just… a chance to get to know each other outside of these study sessions.”

Libby opened her mouth to respond, but Luke quickly added, “I’m not asking you to fall for me or anything, just let me take you out. And if you still think I’m just like every other hockey player after that, I’ll back off. I swear.”

There was a quiet moment where Libby just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Luke could feel his heart racing, wondering if he had just ruined everything, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said it. To have put it out there. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her answer to be, but he knew he couldn’t hide how he felt about her any longer.

Finally, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

Luke smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood. “You could say that.”

She considered him for a moment longer before her lips curved into a small, almost reluctant smile. “Alright. One date. But I’m warning you, you’ll have to work hard to convince me.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and excitement flooding him. “Deal. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

She shrugged, but there was something soft in her eyes that Luke hadn’t seen before. “We’ll see.”

With that, they both stood up, packing away their things in silence, but something had shifted between them. Something subtle, yet undeniable. Luke walked away from the study session feeling lighter than he had in a long time, knowing that for the first time, he was truly starting to break through the wall Libby had so carefully built around herself.

“alright, friday then, we’ll meet at my dorm and then head somewhere” luke said before walking out of the library.

☆

It wasn’t until Libby accidentally overheard a conversation between Luke and his friends that she realized the full extent of what was going on.

She was walking to the library when she caught a snippet of conversation.

“…can’t believe you actually pulled it off,” Ethan was saying. “She totally fell for you.”

Libby froze in her tracks. The weight of his words hit her like a punch in the gut. She stood there, just outside their line of sight, trying to keep herself hidden behind the row of books in the library. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the words caught her off guard and dug deep. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing.

“Yeah, man,” Luke replied, sounding almost too casual, like it was no big deal. “I told you it’d work. Once I show her a little attention, she can’t resist.”

Libby’s stomach churned. Once I show her a little attention she can’t resist? Her pulse quickened, and she took a shaky step backward, the books in her arms suddenly feeling heavier. She wanted to leave, to run away and escape from the reality that was starting to settle on her. But something kept her frozen, something in the way Luke's voice sounded like he had no idea how much those words cut.

“I’ll give it a week,” Ethan laughed. “You’ll have her wrapped around your finger by then. You know how you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered, a laugh escaping him. “I’ll make sure she has a good time. No need to worry.”

Libby couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. She didn’t want to. The words echoed in her mind like an incessant drumbeat.

Libby had thought no, hoped that Luke was different. That maybe he wasn’t like all the other guys who had charmed their way in and out of her life. But as she replayed his words over and over, she couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in her chest. He had played her.

A part of her felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. How could she have been so naive? She had known what guys like him were like she’d seen it happen so many times before. The flirtation, the attention, the charm, and then, just as quickly, they moved on to the next girl, leaving behind a trail of disappointment. She had always sworn she wouldn’t fall for it. And now, here she was, feeling like she had walked right into the trap.

But the sting wasn’t just from the fact that he’d been playing her. It was from the fact that Luke seemed to believe it was all some kind of game something he could just turn on and off like a switch. Maybe he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. But it didn’t matter. She had let herself get pulled in, thinking that there was more to him than that.

She stood there for a while, trapped in her own thoughts, until the sounds of his friends talking faded away. she had decided to come to the library a bit earlier then usual for there next study session bust after that conversation she went back to her dorm ghosting luke’s messages to see if she’s coming. She had already read them twice but hadn’t answered. Part of her wanted to tell him she wasn’t showing up, but another part of her just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, but no words came.

Her fingers hovered over the screen again, and for the first time, she allowed herself to fully confront the fact that the trust she had begun to build with him was shattered. She had tried to convince herself that he wasn’t like the other guys the ones who came and went without a second thought. But now? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

She thought back to their first few study sessions, how she had actually started to enjoy spending time with him, how she believed he might actually be different. But now, the way he had spoken so nonchalantly, so carefree made her feel like nothing more than another notch in his belt. she didn’t admit it but she was starting to like him.

*What was I thinking?* she wondered. *I should’ve seen it coming.*

☆

Her phone buzzed again, this time a message from Luke. "Hey, are you still coming? i’m waiting for you. Let me know."

It’s been a couple days since they last talked. The words felt like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t just the fact that he was still trying to get her to show up it was how easy it seemed for him, like this was all a game. She had allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something real there. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how foolish she had been.

Libby stared at the text for a long time, not knowing what to do. She could go and face him, confront him about what she’d overheard. But the thought of seeing him, of hearing him casually brush it off like it was nothing, made her stomach turn.

So, she made a decision. She didn’t reply. Instead, she locked her phone and shoved it in her bag, the weight of it a reminder of everything she had tried to avoid everything she had hoped wasn’t true.

Back in his dorm, Luke checked his phone for the third time in a row, his heart sinking a little more each time. No response from Libby.

*Maybe she’s just busy,* he tried to tell himself. *She’s probably studying. She said she had work to do.*

"Man, you good?" Ethan asked, poking his head into Luke’s room.

Luke glanced up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just waiting for Libby. She’s probably on her way."

Ethan gave him a skeptical look. "You sure? i thought you said you guys were gonna meet at the library? i doubt she’d ghost you, i mean you just asked her out.”

Luke's stomach dropped. *Ghost you.* He hated the way that sounded.

"I’m sure she didn’t." Luke said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Ethan eyed him for a moment before shrugging. "Alright, man. Just don’t let this drag on. the semester is close to ending"

Luke didn’t respond.

☆

It had been a few days since Luke had last heard from Libby. The unanswered texts, the quiet air between them it weighed heavily on him. His mind raced, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Was she mad at him for something he said? Did she really think he’d been playing her all along?

He tried to shake it off, but something kept gnawing at him. He needed to talk to her. He needed to fix whatever happened.

Without another second of hesitation, Luke grabbed his jacket and made his way to Libby’s dorm. His heart hammered in his chest with every step. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just sit around waiting. He needed answers.

When he reached her building, the nervousness hit him harder. *What if she doesn’t even want to talk to me? What if I’ve ruined everything?* But he couldn’t back out now. Not after the hard work he put in to talk to her.

Luke knocked on her dorm door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He waited, shifting from foot to foot, hoping she’d answer. Moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door opened.

Libby stood there, her arms crossed, her face expressionless. She looked almost distant, like she had already made up her mind about everything.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice colder than he expected.

Luke swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to betray him, but he pushed them down. “Libby, we need to talk. I don’t know what’s going on.”

She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes unmistakable. “No, Luke. We don’t need to talk. You need to leave.”

His stomach twisted at the finality in her tone. “What? Libby, please. Just hear me out”

“No, Luke,” she interrupted, her voice rising just a bit. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here after what I overheard after what you said to make it seem like everything is okay.”

Luke blinked, confused and thrown off. “What are you talking about?”

“Is this how you see me?” Libby asked quietly, her voice cracking slightly. “Just another challenge for you to win? Another girl to charm, get close to, and then drop once you get what you want?”

Luke’s breath caught in his throat after realizing what she’s talking about. The look of betrayal in her eyes hit him harder than any physical blow.

“Libby, I—I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. It wasn’t like that. It was just”

“Just what, Luke?” she cut him off again, her voice steady now, but firm. “Just a bet? A game? You think I wouldn’t find out?” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I heard it with my own ears. You were talking to Ethan and the others, talking about how you could pull it off. About how I’d fall for you. About how it would be easy.”

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“No,” she said, her voice trembling now, but her resolve stronger than ever. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I don’t want to see you again, and I don’t want to talk to you again. Ever.”

His heart sank. “Libby, please. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. You’ve got to believe me, I wasn’t playing you. I care about you. I really do like you.”

Libby’s eyes softened for a split second, but only for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and looked at him with a finality he hadn’t expected.

“No. You don’t. Not the way you think you do. You don’t get to act like this is something you care about after everything I heard. You don’t get to tell me what’s real when you’ve been lying from the start.”

Luke’s chest tightened. He couldn’t find the words, the right words to make this right. He’d messed up. He had been selfish. He’d been careless with her trust.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage to say. The words felt too small for the weight of what had happened.

“I don’t need your apologies, Luke. I need you to leave.”

His heart broke all over again as he stared at her, seeing the pain in her eyes, feeling the distance between them grow with each passing second.

Without another word, Luke turned to walk away, the heavy feeling in his chest making it feel like every step he took was an effort. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He knew he’d lost her. And this time, there was no coming back from it.

Libby closed the door softly behind him, her heart aching, but relieved. The door was closed now. The distance was real. She would never let herself fall for someone like him again.

Libby didn’t know what to think anymore. Luke had broken her trust. The bet was one thing, but hearing him confess his feelings so casually, like it was just some passing remark, left her feeling more betrayed than she cared to admit. She’d told him time and time again that she didn’t want to be a part of his games, but now it seemed like that was exactly what he had turned her into.

For days, Luke tried reaching out. Texts, calls, small gestures. But Libby wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. She couldn’t trust him anymore, and the walls she’d spent years building to protect herself from people like him felt taller than ever.

But Luke wasn’t about to give up, not when he finally understood that what he felt for her wasn’t just about the challenge.

It wasn’t at a game or a party, but in a quiet corner of the campus library that Luke finally caught her alone.

“Libby,” Luke said softly, his voice a little rough. She didn’t look up at first, but he didn’t let that deter him. He stepped closer to her table, his presence impossible to ignore. “Can we talk?”

Libby glanced at him briefly before her gaze fell back to the book she was pretending to read. She could feel the familiar sting of hurt, but something in his tone made her pause.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said, though her voice lacked the usual edge.

Luke’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he began, “I should have told you sooner, but I got caught up in the bet. And I... I didn’t think I’d actually fall for you. I never expected this.”

Libby’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t speak.

“I like you and i know already told you,” he continued, his words slower now, more deliberate. “Not because of the challenge, not because of some stupid bet. But because of who you are. I know I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

Libby’s gaze lifted from the book to meet his eyes, searching for the sincerity she needed to hear. “You’ve been persistent,” she murmured, the words almost to herself. “But I’m not sure if you even know what you’re saying.”

Luke took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I know what I’m saying, Libby. I don’t want you to be another bet. You mean more to me than that, and I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right.”

The silence between them hung thick for a moment, the weight of his words settling. Libby looked at him, her heart torn, but the earnestness in his eyes made her hesitate.

“I need time,” she whispered, her heart racing. “But I’ll think about it.”

Luke smiled, the tension in his body loosening just a little. “I’ll wait.”

And for the first time, Libby allowed herself to believe that maybe just maybe there was a chance for something real between them after all, but she wasn’t going to give in right now.

[killerpancakeburger]

Jealousy headcanons

🧼 & 💀

I also have scenarios partially based on those hcs incoming ☆

Tags: Price'sAssistant!Reader, fluff, protectiveness, possessiveness (but wholesome).

SOAP:

Was actually working on asking you out. Needs it to be perfect. Getting maniac about it.

Outraged when another guy makes a move first. Especially one that mediocre. Although if he was honest, he doesn't think a single dude on base is worthy of you. Yes even himself

So petty. Will hold a grudge forever. You'll have all but forgotten about it, but not him. Oh no. He mentally branded his rival for life. Dude is in his sights. He won't do anything that would put the other's life at risk, but make his life suck? Easy peasy. Will back down when the other back down. ...For now.

Will switch your jacket with his. Yes it's childish, so what? Only when Gaz mentions that if you two are dating in secret, you’re not being very discreet, and once you’re done choking on your drink, you learn that there's MACTAVISH written in big bold letters on your back. (Didnt notice cos you have the same type of jacket as em in the same size since they didnt have one in your own)

Very vocal and agitated about his distaste and resentment. Rants with hand gestures, forever if you don't stop him. Accent and slang getting more and more scottish as he goes.

“Ain't you all sunshines and rainbows today!” you tease him, a bit overwhelmed by his fervor, and by how personally he's taking this. You assume it's a TF141 thing - they've always been protective of you since you're the civilian of the team and the least experimented, even acting as buffer between you and other soldiers. You’re their assistant, their teammate, and no one else's.

Unbeknown to you, your wannabe suitor had boasted about the move he made on you to other soldiers. To make himself look good, and to get some kind of reassurance. The minute Soap heard mention of your name, he couldn’t help but join the group to listen in.

Galvanized by the feedbacks of his mates, the guy gets bolder in his remarks. Johnny will never report to you what he heard - it would only hurt you. When he calls out to the man, the private still doesn't realize his mistake. He replies to the sergeant with enthusiasm, thinking he's here to join the locker talk.

To think that guy dared to think Soap was on his side - would sympathize -, simply because of some implicit bro code. He was boiling until now, but that was what made him snap.

Before he could even think about it, he already had knocked the private on his ass with one punch. The altercation was broken up before he could do more.

He's itching for a fight, but he'll settle for a punching bag. Unless the guy intimidated you, or made you uncomfortable in any way. Then he's already leaving the room after you’re done telling him about it, and if you stop him, he tries to convince you it's for the best. Letting him deal his own brand of justice. It's kind of his specialty, after all.

Either you give in, and you two talk again afterwards, or you resist, despite his arguments turning into supplications. In both cases you end up asking the one burning question: "Why does this bother you so much?"

He suddenly looks like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. Avoiding your gaze. Grumbling to himself. You have to insist for him to make his speech audible again. Replies with another question. "Why wouldn’t it?"

You sigh, cross your arms. "You know what I mean. I never saw you so fired up over something that wasn’t work-related." You eventually manage to extract a confession from him.

"He... he's not your type." More grumbling. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, before a smirk stretches your lips. "Oh? And what is my type, Sergeant?"

He looks almost pained for a second, and you feel guilty, even though you don't know what for. Then his expression changes, to one that reminds you of a condemned man in front of the gallows - a blend of resignation and resolve. He wraps his arms around you and hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't tease me, Bonnie." Before you can comfort him, moved but still confused, he adds: "Or I won't be able to hold back anymore."

You try to remove from his spot, but his embrace prevents you from backing down and his head doesn't budge. "Johnny... look at me. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help. Please?"

He finally meets your gaze, forehead almost touching yours. He looks more vulnerable than you've ever seen. "Go out with me?" Before you can answer, he adds: "I'll be so, so good to ye, swear it. Hell, ye've got me wrapped 'round yer finger already."

GHOST:

In denial about his feelings for you. Doesn't stop him from feeling super possessive though.

Two words: starring problem. Whether it's menacingly at the other guy, or at you, to make his disapproval known, just in case the absurd idea to accept his advances happened to cross your mind.

You're way too good for that bloke who doesn't even have the balls to face you himself (he left a note on your desk). Who the bloody hell does he think he is?

If the guy happened to scare you or coerce you in any way, he's done for. Gone. You'll never know what Ghost did, but you never saw the dude again. And when you ask around, no one seems to understand who you’re refering to...

If he's not starring at you from afar, he's with you, magically appearing at random times of the day.

When you ask him for explainations about his behaviour, he grumbles that he knows about the private's confession, and how that bloody wanker is obviously beneath you, and that you could find so much better.

You never planned to accept the other guy's advances anyway, but you’re terribly intrigued by Ghost's unusual behavior. He brags about his own skill here and there, but doesn't waste time ranting about others' lack thereof.

"I don't know about 'much better'", you argue, only half-serious. The men who've approached you can be counted on the fingers of one hand, and none of them was... adequate. But you don't really want to talk about it with your tall and dark lieutenant, a man that manages to intimate you as much as he charms you.

The sentence barely left your lips that the creaking of his chair makes you look up, and you can read something akin to "you can’t be serious" in his eyes before he stops in front of your desk. "Simon?" you call out, confused, but instead of answering, he cradles your face with one hand, the other lifting his mask halfway.

"Bite me if you don't want this" is the only warning you get before his mouth meets yours. You keep your teeth to yourself. He overwhelms you completely with just one kiss. When he releases you, you need a moment to pull yourself together.

"How's that for much better?"