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thebestofoneshots · 1 month

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Waiting For a Girl Like You | wolfstar x reader

Pairing: R.L.. x S.B. x Gn!Reader (originally written as a woman but then I discovered I hadn't used any pronouns, and the reader was not particularly feminine, so it became my first official GN) Word Count: 5 k Warnings: None Prompt: Unbeknownst to many, your birthday has always been a quiet affair, you don't often celebrate it and you certainly weren't expecting for things to change the moment you met those two, enimagtic boys on your Creative Writing course. You could have not been more mistaken.

I got two requests a couple of weeks ago and I could not fulfil them on time for the life of me. Dear @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl sent me similar requests about a certain birthday fic and first of all, Guys your birthdays are on the same day, How cool is that!?! Second, I'm so sorry I took so long, but it's finally here!

I decided to combine the prompts since I thought it would be really cute for the story, and this is what I've come up with.

Hope you enjoy, darlings! I'm wishing you all the best! xx Lils

Written for @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays so far. Back in your hometown, it was the same day as a special celebration of the discovery of the mines and they held a huge, town-wide party for it. The party was great, a fair, balloons, cotton candy, everything great, everything kids loved. Unfortunately, it was so good that people tended to forget about your birthday since they were excited about Mining Day.

Of course, people close to you remembered (your parents), but even though you had told your friends plenty of times that your birthday was on the same day, it had slipped their minds a good deal of times. You tried to make parties and people would prefer going to see the guest singer invited to the festival. You'd make them the next day and they were too tired to come.

Eventually, you just gave up on celebrating your own birthday and decided to join the rest on Mining Day, enjoying the candies and everything in between. It might have not been your special day but it was a special day and that was as good as you’d get. Or so you thought.

When you moved to London for university, you didn’t even think about telling your friends about your birthday, and they hadn’t asked either. That was until you took that Creative Writing side course and met them. You had been on time but the room had been filled to the brim with students, and there was nowhere to sit. You’d huffed and were about to leave to ask for a chair from a different classroom but when you turned around you bumped into the prettiest person your eyes had ever laid eyes upon, piercing grey eyes, long wavy hair, and features so elegant he looked royal.

He smiled, such a pretty smile. “Hey, you were going for one of these? I brought extra,” he said as he pulled one of the chairs up to signal what he was talking about.

“Yeah,” you said shily.

“Cool, come along then,” he said and you moved out of the way as he moved with the chairs. He moved his chairs all the way to a table where there was another stunning person sitting down. “What’s your name, Luv?” You replied with your name, soft and polite. “Pretty,” he said, flashing that same smile your way, meaning both you and your name, not that you knew. He accommodated the chairs, one next to each other, wiped his hands on his black jeans and then extended his hand to you. “Sirius Black.”

You shook his hand and then the other boy’s warm smile caught your eye. “Remus Lupin,” he said with his hand extended as well. He had scars all over his body, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. Were you curious about them? Of course, you were. Were you gonna ask? No way in hell.

The boys had met each other at a boarding school in Scotland and had moved to London recently. Remus wanted to take a lit class and tried to convince his friends to join him but Sirius didn’t love the idea of a class where he’d have to read and analyse books, so he suggested taking something more on the creative side.

Remus found the Writing Course and Sirius had been more than happy to join him. You and Remus actually had a lot in common, you discovered as the class went on. You had both read a lot, and you veered towards the same authors and storylines. You had an insane passion for Oscar Wilde and he loved Mary Shelly. You sometimes wondered if he liked her so much because of the way she described the Fiend, you truly hoped that wasn’t it, because while you could see how Rem would relate to the monster, you hated the idea of it, since you considered him absolutely stunning.

Days had gone by, and while you always sat with the boys and hung out with them every time you saw them at school, you hadn’t really seen them outside of it, that was until you got a group assignment and Sirius was quick to place his arms around both you and Rem and claim you as his team.

Remus scribbled your names on a piece of paper and handed them over to the teacher before she assigned each of you a different subject for your story. You got fantasy. The boys seemed to be diverted when you started talking about mythical creatures and wizards, and you assumed it had something to do with an inside joke they developed through the years of knowing each other.

They invited you over to their apartment that was just next to a corner cafe cleverly named “The Corner” and you had stopped by to get something for you and the boys, since you weren’t sure how long it would take and were now waiting just outside the door to their apartment complex.

“We’re coming, Sweets,” Sirius’ voice said through the speakers as the door buzzed open to let you in.

You used your shoulder to push inside and carefully moved the carton with the three coffee cups inside as you entered, your backpack strap got caught in the door and you were forced to turn around to and you opened the door again, placing the paper bag with fresh bread on your mouth to free one of your hands and pulled the strap free.

When you turned around, you were shocked to find a smiling Sirius right in front of your face. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Luv!” he said and extended his hand towards your mouth, taking the paper bag and then the carton with the coffee from your hand.

“I wanted to,” you said simply.

Sirius and you went up the stairs, Remus was waiting by the door and the two of them welcomed you in. For an apartment belonging to two boys, it was surprisingly neat. Remus had arranged his coffee table with a few cushions over the rug so you all could sit together, he had a couple of pens and pencils, his notebook and a stunning Remington Typewriter.

You almost walked straight to look at it when you spotted it on the table, “This is her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Remus said as he sat beside you. “Wanna try it?”

“Can I please?” you asked, you had a Brother one at your apartment, and you adored her, but Remingtons were classics. His was from the 50s and it looked brand new. Rather than responding, Remus placed a paper through the platen and pushed it towards you.

Since you didn’t actually have a plan to write something, you just typed the boys’ Name and then yours, right at the top of the paper.

“What are we going to write then? Any ideas?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk about wizards?” Sirius asked with a smile.

“But do you want to?”

He chuckled, “Of course, Sweets, we’d love to go for that.” He reclined his head on the sofa. “We’ve actually discussed it, and we have some ideas, don’t we Moony?”

Remus shot a look at Sirius, who winked in return.

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze to Sirius. “For the plot?”

“Mhm… hear me out. It’s a hidden school for wizards, you get there by taking a secret train hidden at King’s Cross. The school is full of magic and mysteries and ghosts and other magical creatures.”

You frowned, “I don’t know… it sounds a little too surrealistic, doesn’t it?”

Sirius laughed at your statement and Remus threw pillow towards his face, you squirmed in your seat a little uncomfortably and then Rem placed his hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, Dove. We don’t have to go for Sirius’ idea.”

“But he said you wanted to write about it too…”

“I’ll be happy with whatever we make. I know with our writing skills and Sirius’ creativity we’ll make something brilliant.”

You pulled out your notebook and checked the list of ideas for the story you had to write. It had to be at least 50k words and you had three weeks to finish it. So the three of you would have to get writing as soon as possible, which meant you had to define the story and you had to define it fast. Most of your ideas were either unfinished, not doable in such a short time or had the opportunity to be integrated into Sirius’ magic school.

“Okay, tell me more about your Wizard’s school.”

Sirius smiled, threw a look at Remus –a satisfied sort of look– before turning back to you, “Okay, so the name is Wartshow: School for Wizardry and Witchcraft, and–“

“Doesn’t Witchcraft and Wizardry sound better, though?”

Sirius licked his lips and smiled. “All right then, Wartshow: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” You wrote it down in your notebook.

“It’s the story about a boy, a boy that thought they wouldn’t be able to assist even though he was a wizard.”

“Sirius,” Remus said in a warning tone.

“Shut up Moony, you’ll kill my inspiration.”

“Why did he think that?” You asked.

“Because he was bitten by a werewolf when he was 4.”

Remus scoffed and stood up, “I’ll bring the snacks.”

“Is he okay?” you asked.

“He’s not a fan of my story,” Sirius said. “He says the main character is not a hero, but I differ.”

You hummed in response. “What’s the boy’s name?”

“Re- Andrew,” he said, “Andrew Renault.”

“Renault? Is he french?”

“No, I don’t– he is not.”

“Okay, then we should go for a more English name, like… Remington?”

“Andrew Remington? Sounds posh.”

“As if Sirius Black sounded less posh,” you joked and he scoffed playfully at you. He continued listing his ideas, telling you Remus’ story although he had changed the names of almost everyone. “Will there be dragons?” you asked after he had laid out the basic idea.

“Dragons? Those are dangerous!”

“Of course they are, but it’s more exciting than the…ugh” –you checked your notes– “boggart monster you mentioned.”

“Dragons are definitely more exciting than Boggarts,” Remus said as he sat on the floor next to you. You couldn’t help but notice his scars, perhaps Sirius had used those as inspiration for Andrew.

“Okay, so we’ll add dragons. What if there’s a dragon in the dungeons?”

“No, in the dungeons there are snakes,” Sirius said as if it were a fact. He had clearly thought this out.

“Okay… what about a secret room in the castle that has dragons? It’s magical, right? It could be bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS.”

“The what?” Sirius asked, confused.

“The TARDIS! From Doctor Who?” you said as if it were a fact, he still looked confused. “You do know what I’m talking about, right Rem?”

“Is it a book?” he asked.

“A book? How do you even call yourself Brits if you don’t know about Doctor Who? That’s it, Sunday, my house, we’re watching a marathon.”

“Whatever you want, dove,” Remus said and handed you a piece of chocolate.

“So, going back to the story. A room that’s bigger on the inside. Like a… Chamber of Secrets?”

“Sirius,” Remus warned again.

“It’s what she said!” Sirius said defensively.

After that, you finished plotting the small story in between the three, even with the slight reluctance you detected from Remus, you got around to defining all of your main characters, the challenges they’d go through and the resolution of the story.

“By the way, tomorrow is our flatmate James’ birthday,” Sirius said as he closed the notepad he’d been writing on. “Wanna come to the party?”

“I don’t think I’ve met James, though.”

“It’s fine, he’ll love to meet you I’m sure,” Remus said. “When is your birthday?”

“I–“ you hesitated, “I don’t really celebrate it.”

“Why not? We should definitely celebrate the day you were brought into this world,” Sirius said.

You smiled, Sirius could be the sweetest sometimes. “I don’t do parties…”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“No! It’s just… long story, don’t bother yourselves with it.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Sirius offered. “In exchange, you give me your birthday, how about that?”

You laughed, Sirius wasn’t the type to care too much about things, so you walked towards him and whispered the date in his ear.

“Now yours?” you said as he leaned closer to you.

“It’s all real, we are magicians from the school in our story,” he whispered.

You laughed. “I thought you’d tell me a real secret, should have known,” you added as you shoved him, he just laughed and shrugged in response, as if he was saying it’s your loss, for not believing his lie.

After that day, you hung out with them almost all the time, be it to watch movies, to continue that Doctor Who marathon, or to hang out with the boys on their birthdays. In fact, it was almost odd if you didn’t see each other in more than a couple of days, since they would find almost any reason to meet, Sirius would call and say ‘Hey, there’s a new movie I want to see, you coming with us?’

Or Remus would leave a note on your mailbox telling you to come with him to a library later that day since he had just finished the book he was reading and you were always the best at finding the right books.

So. of course, you thought it was odd when, on the morning of your birthday, you called their apartment and got no response. Now you weren’t expecting a grandiose party, you weren’t even going to get a cake or anything, but you wanted to see them, maybe go out for dinner, or have a cinema night. You rang them again and still no answer.

You sighed and walked towards school. You didn’t have that creative writing course today so you weren’t expecting to see them there, but perhaps on the lunch break, you’d find them in your usual spot.

Your classes were rather tedious, an old professor that spoke very quietly and you had to sit at the very front to even hear him, and then another professor who almost always went over the same thing you’d seen in the first class. Always, round and round the same thing, with nothing new. At least you’d have a class with Professor Almain before lunch. It was your favourite class of the semester –aside from the writing course– and so far, you thought it’d be the highlight of your day.

But when you got to his classroom, the room was empty and there was a short note on the board: Professor Almain is indisposed today. Study Chapters three and four of your book, you’ll be discussing them next class. The note was signed by Tobby Klein, his assistant.

You sighed and sat down on one of the chairs, sulking as you took out the book mentioned and started to read. Someone else tried to enter the room a few minutes later, and when they realised there would be no class, they left the classroom instantly. Perhaps they had something better to do, you didn’t.

You had taken that class as an extracurricular, so you barely knew the students in it, and your classmates were in a class you had taken online, so you couldn’t exactly go search for any of them. You could have gone to the library, but it also seemed unnecessary when you had a perfectly quiet classroom all to yourself.

You were about halfway through the chapter when you heard someone knocking on the glass window. When you turned you spotted Sirius waving his hand at you with a bright, pearly smile. He looked as dashing as ever. It was ridiculous how pretty you still thought he was even when you saw him all the time.

He entered the room shortly after. “What are you here all alone?” he asked as he pulled a chair next to yours and pressed a short kiss on your cheek as a greeting. Sirius did that all the time, you’d assumed it was because he was half French.

“Class was cancelled,” you said as you pointed to the board. “Had nowhere to go. Aren’t you supposed to be in class too?”

He hummed in response. “It’s that stupid advanced maths class Moony convinced me to take, I was falling asleep and asked to go to the bathroom to throw some water at my face when I spotted you.”

“You should go back.”

“To maths? Rather than staying with you? Yeah, right!”

A small smile appeared on your lips as you stared at him while shaking your head in disbelief. “What if you fail, though?”

“I’m not going to fail,” he said with a shrug. “Moony can tell me what it was about later. Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

You nodded and pulled your bag from the ground. “I was actually going to invite you guys over tonight,” you said as you opened the zipper and placed the book inside the bag, “I mean I’m sure you don’t remember, and I don’t really want to make anything big but–“

“That today is your birthday?” Sirius asked.

You turned to him in shock, “You– you…”

“How on earth would I forget?” he said with a smile. “It’s the day my best girl was born. They should make a fucking parade for you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at Sirius’ grandiose attitude. “Come on,” he said as he stood up and offered his hand. “It feels like a day for ice cream, want some?”

You nodded and he dragged you towards the parking lot, his hand not leaving yours at all, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest since you suspected he had a thing with Remus, but it was almost impossible when he looked at you with his stunning grey eyes.

He took out the helmet they’d gotten you when they started offering to take you on rides from Moony’s bike and handed it over. It was a full-face black helmet that matched the one the two of them wore almost perfectly, but while Moony’s had a half moon and Sirius’ had a star, yours had both.

It had been Remus who added the matching moon, and Sirius –who instantly got jealous over it– painted a star right in the middle, he was exceptionally good at painting, sometimes you wondered why he didn’t study art. Then again, you weren’t sure what exactly they were studying, since they had taken classes from more than four different degrees as if they had only picked the few classes that they were interested in.

You took the helmet in between your hands and hopped on Sirius’ bike. He drove you to the small park that was just a couple of minutes from the school and got you your favourite ice cream from the small ice cream shop James had discovered a while back.

“So, about tonight?”

“Moony has a thing,” Sirius said with an apologetic smile. “He has a big presentation tomorrow and he’s working on it with his team tonight, they’ll be using the rooftop of our apartment for it, I believe.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment.

Sirius bit his lip, “Why don’t you come over?”

“I wouldn’t want to be a distraction, I mean–“

“I don’t have to work on any projects,” Sirius said. “We could play chess, watch a movie while he finishes and then we order something to eat.”

“You– do you really think that’s a good idea?” you asked, uncertain, as you brought your ice cream to your mouth.

“For sure,” he said. “We could get a cake and–“

“No cakes.”

“But you like cakes!”

“Not on my birthday.”

“That’s ridiculous! You have something on your face.”

“Where?” you asked.

“There,” he said as leaned his finger close to you and smeared some of his ice cream over your cheek. You gasped in shock.

“Sirius!” you admonished.

“Yes, Luv?” he responded, as if you had just called him.

You used the napkin wrapped around your cone to clean your cheek, “That was uncalled for.”

“I don’t know about that, your cheeks looked like they needed some ice cream,” he said while trying, and failing to hold back a smile, he pulled a napkin from his pocket, much like a magician would do, and handed it over to you. You were about to take it from his hand, but he shook his head and wrapped his fingers around your chin and turned your head to the side softly. “Allow me.”

He took longer than needed while whipping your cheek, but he didn’t exactly want to pull apart, and you didn’t want him to pull apart either.

“There you go.”

“It’s sticky now,” you teased.

“Nothing can keep you happy, can it, Sweetheart?” he said dramatically and wrapped his arm over your shoulders and leaned his head on yours.

You just laughed. Sirius convinced you to skip the next class and stay with him at the park and then took you home.

“Want me to pick you up?” He asked as you got down from the bike. He had propped the small side stand down and was leaning on the handlebar. You could hardly believe he had driven you all around looking that handsome, with his leather jacket, and high boots. Sirius was pretty all the time, but sometimes he felt more like a fictional character than like an actual human.

You saw a girl eyeing him as she passed by, and you couldn’t help but smile at him and nod. “Yeah, that would be lovely. At 7?”

He smiled, gave you a short wink, and put his helmet back on. “See you soon, Sweetheart.” He said, voice slightly muffled by the helmet before he drove off. You entered your apartment shortly after, and it took you a whole minute to recover. It’s not that you hadn’t gone out with Sirius plenty of times, but this one seemed a lot more like a date than all of the previous ones.

You took a snack bar from your pantry, went for a shower, and asked your classmates about the class you’d missed. A friend of yours told the teacher that you were feeling sick to cover for you and he said he wouldn’t count the absence (it was the first time you missed that class anyway), and you had always been rather participative.

After that, you grabbed the book you’d been reading and read until it was 7. The light outside had already gone out, and you took some chocolates you’d bought for Remus last week and placed them in your backpack, it was then that you heard the familiar honk of Sirius’ Triumph.

You walked downstairs and met him outside. He switched his band tee for a snug turtleneck sweater that fit him obscenely well and was still wearing his leather jacket. You had kept your helmet and put it on as you approached his bike.

“You smell nice,” you said as you sat behind him.

“You think?” he asked, playing dumb. “Maybe it’s the aftershave,” he added as he pulled the side stand up and drove into the street. You eyed him suspiciously, not that you could see much while he had his helmet on but you still did.

By the time you arrived at their apartment, you had forgotten all about your suspicion and were just leaning onto Sirius as much as you could, since the night had grown a lot colder than you expected it would. Sirius parked his bike just outside and the two of you walked the three floors of stairs to their apartment.

You expected to see James lounging around like he often did, but he was not there, and Sirius told you Remus was on the terrace at the top, doing his thing, so you walked towards the sofa while Sirius offered to make you a cup of tea.

“Remus bought the one you like,” he said, pulling out a box with the tea you had tried a while back. You had fallen in love with the flavour, but you never found it in the supermarket –it was from a small tea shop at Diagon Alley, so really, there would be no way for you to find it.

“Okay,” you said, “got milk?”

Sirius nodded towards the fridge and you helped him by pulling out the milk and some biscuits. When your cup was ready, he handed it over to you and took a sip of his own. He glanced at the clock quickly, so quick you barely even noticed and then smiled. It was that mysterious smile of his that told you he was up to something. “We should go see Remus.”

“What? I thought he was working on his project.”

“He probably is, but you haven’t seen him all day, I’m sure he wants to at least give you a birthday hug.”

“A birthday hug?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yes! A birthday hug! We’ll bother him for a bit and then we come back and you tell me about that book you’ve been reading. The one with the character you said reminds you of me.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you said with a laugh as you nodded and followed along with him.

As you reached the top of the stairs you heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. Sirius was the one to open it first, but none of the lights they normally had were up.

“Maybe they went to do their homework at the Corner Cafe,” you told Sirius as you turned to him. Suddenly all the lights turn on, including candles and the hanging fairy lights at the top.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices sang.

You were startled, Remus and James were right in front of their small table, and there was a cake right in front of them. They had invited their friend Lily, who was dating James and with whom you were fairly close to. She was the first one to approach you.

“I can’t believe Sirius was the one to tell me when your birthday was, Luv! He used to forget mine all the time!” She turned to Sirius with an accusing gaze and then back at you. “Happy Birthday,” she added as she hugged you.

James gave you a short squeeze after and Remus wrapped you in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. Sirius joined the hug right after.

“You’re squeezing me, boys!” you complained in a laugh.

“It’s a birthday squeeze, deal with it,” Sirius responded, and pressed even closer.

“Remus?” you tried, he was the most reasonable one between the two.

“You heard Sirius, Dove. It’s the birthday squeeze.”

You must have stayed like that for at least a minute before either of the two let go of you, you were certain Lily had whispered something to James, but you were too busy basking on the wrath of the squeeze to bother. After that, you would have sworn the lights of the cake turned on by themselves as Lily walked over to you with it. They sang Happy Birthday while Sirius pulled you to sit on his lap, using the terrible excuse that there was no other seat available.

You had cake and then they handed over your gifts. A book from Lily and a chocolate frog from James, although he warned you not to open it until later. You didn’t know what that was about but decided to do what was told. Eventually, Lily said she had to go and James offered to walk her.

Although he said ‘I’ll fly you’ getting a look from Remus that you missed entirely. The boys had extended a pair of matts over the deck and you were all laying on them while gazing at the stars.

“It was lovely, thank you for the surprise,” you said as you looked at the waning moon.

“It was nothing, Luv,” Rem said.

“Remus was really eager to celebrate your birthday. We actually have a little present for you,” Sirius added.

“Really?” you asked, turning to Sirius.

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Open the frog,” Remus prompted.

You leaned forwards and sat on the mat, pulling the frog from the table and doing what told. Suddenly the Frog that looked like it had been made out of chocolate jumped and fell near Remus’ leg. You gasped and stared at the moving frog. It looked like chocolate, but it moved as if it were alive.

“What– did James give me an actual frog?”

“No, it’s chocolate,” Remus reassured and picked it up. The frog stilled in his hand.

You stared at it in disbelief, “Is this some sort of trick?”

“It’s magic,” Sirius said.

You frowned at him.

“Remember the story for our class? The one that we worked on together?”

“Wartshow, Andrew, yeah of course.”

“Well, It’s sort of real.”

“What?”

Remus pulled out his wand and handed it over to you. You stared at it, it looked like a wand, it felt like a wand, but there was no way it was magic because magic– “Is this some kind of trick?”

Sirius laughed and pulled out a different wand from his pocket, he whispered something and red sparks blew out from the tip. You swallowed and took it from his hands. Checking on it to see if there was some kind of trick, or cannon dust or something inside of it, but it was just a stick, fancy, but a stick.

Remus took his wand and with another set of words, levitated the small frog right in front of your face. You looked at it with eyes wide open and moved your hand all over it to make sure it really was floating, and it wasn’t some kind of invisible string trick. It was right in front of your eyes, and it was still too fascinating to believe.

“But… in our story, wizards couldn’t tell the non-wizards about their existence. It was meant to be a secret… I mean… Why are you telling me?”

Remus smiled, his hand searched yours and he leaned his head on top of yours and sighed. “Because we trust you,” he said while looking ahead, at nothing in particular.

Sirius searched for your other hand, making sure to turn it around and interwinning his fingers with yours. He placed his head on your shoulder. “Because we like you.”

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays, but this had been one of the nicest birthdays of them all, more so when your two crushes admitted what Sirius had meant by his words. That they liked you –romantically– not just as friends.

A/N: I am so, SO sorry for taking this long to finish your gift, but I made it a bit longer than initially planned to make up for it.

Hope you both had the most amazing birthday and that you're having a wonderous day today. Sending you lots of love, hope you enjoy this little thing <3

330 notes · View notes

taegularities · 7 months

Note

hi, could you maybe write something for STARS BEHIND WAVES?

maybe about how they’re doing right now? (fluff, maybe suggestive?)

I really really love this story of yours:)))

Do you think you’ll write an epilogue someday?

(No pressure, i’m just really obsessed with this story)

Have a nice day/good night;)

fic: stars behind waves

pairing: jungkook x reader warnings: kissing, suggestive, his wandering hands and crude mouth lol, this is literally one of the softest couple i have and i love them so much, mention of fear of heights, oc is scared of a river :'), jealousy <3 pure fluff and bliss and love!! wc: 3.1k lol a/n: thank you for the request!! definitely one of my fav fics 🥺 i don't think i will be able to write an epilogue :( but rest assured, they're the happiest they can be. also, i really kinda love this lil drabble, so if you do, too, lmk hehe <3 a/n 2: i just found this in my drafts from when we were playing the amc game a couple months ago lol. hope you enjoy. is also unedited, so be gentle with me lmaoo <3

–

“Maldives.”

“God, no,” you reject, “sounds gorgeous, but. I can't deal with the heat anymore.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, fatigued from the unproductive day, but agrees, “Okay. Maybe you’re right. We’ve seen our fair share of…”

The last words turn into a mumble, drifting when his attention does. He scrolls on, big eyes glued to the bright screen. He’s been changing tabs for hours now; between travel destinations and booking sites, he’s exhausted himself.

Several three-digit-numbers have burned themselves into your brain from comparing a dozen vacations; planning such a thing is tedious.

You saved money for this. Working your ass off throughout the year, putting extra effort in overtime hours to visit a place you’ve only dreamed of thus far. Jungkook graduated, and you promised you’d steer towards an unforgettable summer.

His shifts at the bookstore were tiring, too. One too many times you called during lunch break just to meet a groggy voice. The late dinners at home transpired similarly quiet, his eyes similarly fatigued.

Then he’d cling onto you at night; he found your warmth solacing. Would tug you in, smack his lips. Yawn against your shoulder before slipping into dreamland, uttering a couple last mumbled “I love you”s and pouty, whiny “Don’t wanna work”s.

Summer couldn’t come faster.

But so couldn’t dinner.

“Maybe we should think about it another time,” you say. “I’m getting hungry.”

Jungkook drops the attached laptop mouse dramatically, shoving it away as he leans back on his chair and declares, “Thank fuck. I’m starving.”

“Should’ve just said something.”

Dinner is relieving to the two of you; having used up all words for today, you eat in peace, each enjoying your meal. Jungkook, reaching for his glass of water, looks up at you once, bowl half empty.

His eyes land above your clavicles, right where the charm dangles. Sparkles. The stars he promised you almost two decades ago. He can’t believe it’s barely been two years since the summer occurred when he found you again.

Time has passed; the two of you reunited with ease.

Spending days and nights together doesn’t come without fights — occasionally, you snap at each other, reminding the other of lonely times, spitting words that soon turn into regret.

But those arguments, as natural as sunlight, pass quickly and give way to comforting words, lips on scarred cheeks, hands over warm bodies.

Even when you were younger, you’d make up softly, comfortably. Would apologise and seek an unknown spot on the island, starving for a distraction. You’d find yet another shell without pearls in it; would try to make things right.

Jungkook remembers one day particularly well; surprising how well it fits this very moment.

Back then you’d hiked up a hill, dizzy in the damp summer heat. You cursed at Jungkook for dragging you along when you’d suggested an effortless, pleasant afternoon at the small market.

Halfway through your journey, you feared you’d gotten lost. You didn’t meet people anymore. The forest grew more tense. You kept your eyes and ears open for snakes or bears or whatever might linger here.

You only felt a sliver of hope when you heard water splashing nearby, hoping it was a lake or the ocean. But what you found instead filled you with far more discomfort.

Not because the river that you found on top wasn’t very narrow or harmless. Neither because it ended in a waterfall that fell for quite a while and then continued the same river, meeting the ocean somewhere.

No, you felt terrified because you knew what Jungkook would want to do.

“Let’s go back,” you immediately blurted.

But he was already on his shit, shaking his head with a twinkle in his dark eyes. You pulled at his tee, ready to turn at your heel and roll down the hill. Jungkook, however, pushed your hand away, freeing himself from your touch.

“No. Let’s cross this.”

You knew it. He was bold and idiotic enough; an adrenaline junkie the way you couldn’t be. Even cliff diving took you a good while to tackle and then longer to get used to. He taught you and kept doing so every year, because you’d enter the island with a newfound fear of heights each time.

“Uhm,” you said, raising your hands in defence, “I do not think so, dude.”

“But loo—”

“No. *No, I—”

You were so close to the edge, though probably not enough for the current to pull you in. Maybe you just hallucinated the proximity, too. Because thinking about it in hindsight, there was probably nowhere that much of a danger for you.

But you still weren’t ready to die yet.

So you ripped your eyes open further, panicking a little when he stepped into the water along with his terrible crocs. You clamoured, voice higher than ever, “What the fuck are you *doing?”

And maybe you would’ve kept your stance and ran away if he didn’t smile back at you like you were nowhere safer than with him. A reassuring grin, secure and certain.

You guess you were already hopelessly in love with him then. Not to mention that you still constantly lost yourself in the kiss you’d shared on your porch this spring. Your very *first kiss…

And you still craved more ever since. Only, Jungkook had never given you more after that.

It didn’t help when he held out a hand, remaining teasing yet sweet with a tilted, crooked smirk. His stance, firm in the water, lured you in although you definitely weren’t one to be risky like this.

But somehow, he could still convince you. Forced a frustrated sigh out of you, pulling you in like a magnetic force as you neared the river. You could see the other side not too far from you, but in your fear, the distance seemed endless.

“C’mon. We got this,” he promised, his voice drowning in the sounds of the current. “If we die, we die together.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shit, you really think you’re poetic.” You climbed over a rock, taking off your shoes, holding them in one hand as the other clutched his fingers tight from the first moment, like a reflex. “You watch too many dramas, gosh.”

He held you in a careful grip. You were smaller then, and his seventeen-year-old body, a strong result of regular gym sessions, withheld the water far better than yours. You, as opposed to him, almost dropped to your knees wading forwards.

You stepped on a somewhat sharp rock under the white waves, but he wouldn’t let you drift away. His attention remained on you. Halfway across, he said, “Here.”

He took your arm and pulled you close, slinging it around his torso, enabling a stronger grip. He was an ass and gentle friend at once — because he scared you on purpose a moment later, acting as though he was slipping.

And just when you yelped once more, watching him squint an eye at the volume, you swore at him thoroughly. You mewled words you hadn’t heard in your voice before, and he laughed, stating, “That reminds me of a school trip.”

“What,” you panted, out of breath, “goddamn school trip.”

“We went to a climbing park, and like… this girl,” he sucked in air through his mouth, tired, too; and you held your breath, “this girl from my class was literally trembling. I— I helped her over a distance until she felt secure. But…”

He groaned, struggling a bit. Or maybe he just acted like he did, you didn’t know. You were more focused than before, that was for sure.

“She was screaming just like you,” he finished.

Suddenly, you weren’t that frightened anymore.

You even forgot that you’d feared death just a moment ago. Your chest burned green.

You asked, “Right. And… and you were holding her like this, too, huh?”

“Kind of.”

“Cool. Co—”

You were out of balance. One blink passed, and you tumbled, immediately digging your nails into his shirt and his skin. His hands saved you as you placed your free fingers onto a stone automatically, one shoe sliding off your fingers.

The river carried it away from you until you couldn’t see it anymore, and you furrowed your eyebrows, mouth wide as you yelled, “No!”

“Forget it, we just need to move!”

“It wasn’t me who fucking suggested this!” you snarled, gritting your teeth.

Your knees shook. You stared ahead — just a couple feet more.

“I got you,” was all he answered, “almost there.”

And when you finally were, you were still cursing, pushing his body away. Under your breath, you murmured a dozen words, and Jungkook, wiping soaked hands at his shorts, couldn’t stop chuckling.

His hair was damp, outrageous when he pushed it back, but it couldn’t distract you this time. Instead, you threw your remaining shoe at him, watching him dodge it with an amused wide grin.

You couldn’t be bothered with his jokes; he was being irritating. There was literally nothing over here. Who knew if there was a way to get off this hill from here at all.

Knees still liquid, you targeted a tree and took a seat underneath it. You caught your breath, observing him as he sniffled and picked up your shoe. You felt empathy for his shorts; he still dragged his hands over them, leaving dark, wet stains.

Then, he dropped down next to you. Nudged your shoulder and said, “Come *on. That was fun.” A beat of a pause as you moved your head to glare at him. Then, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“*You,” you started, face close to his, a finger pointing at his chest, “were almost gonna organise a funeral.”

“Please. Nothing was gonna happen to you.”

“No. Your *own.”

He laughed again. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.”

You exhaled. In truth, it hadn’t been that bad. Looking at the river from here, you truly were far enough from the edge, and the water had barely reached your knees. But the thing he said…

You searched for a way to make things less awkward; to not let him know that you were seething with envy. A harmless question came to mind, subtle as you inquired, “Was I at least a little braver than that… classmate?”

He lifted his head in thought, humming.

“Hmm. No.” Your shoulders slumped. How rude. “Hard to judge, though. It took us only a few minutes here, and it took her *hours to cross the climbing park.”

You didn’t tell him that sometimes, you were supposed to take hours. Not everybody was as athletic as him. Hmph.

“You helped her all this time?” you asked.

“Half of it at least.”

You shouldn’t have been jealous. Not bothered by how casual he made it sound, how he nodded… it was all whatever. But also—

“And then?” you dug. “You drove back to school and acted like you hadn’t just bonded?”

“Uhm…” Your heart dropped. Typical first love, typical first frustrating feelings. Your young heart was a lot more feeble. “Something like that.”

But you understood.

“Oh, Jeon…”

“It was just a kiss after lunch, okay. That day, and never again.”

Ah, you hated this. So he could kiss someone else, but not you aga—

No. Stop. What dumb thoughts.

“Okay. Good for you,” you told him, back to your prior tone.

Damn it.

You stared at the abandoned shoe between the two of you.

Shit, how were you gonna go back with one of your initially two Nikes on your feet? He’d have to carry you. At least you put both your socks in the one shoe you didn’t lose…

“Don’t act that way,” Jungkook spoke through your thoughts, patting your knee, “it was a lot more fun with you. She kept saying she wanted to go home and that messed with my own experience.”

“And yet, you kissed her.”

“Yeah, well. Happens.” He rolled his eyes. His voice was still casual and soft; perhaps he didn’t notice the storm in your pupils. “But I’ve had better kisses.”

Or maybe he did notice. Maybe that’s why he was saying that.

You hoped for a certain answer, but still tried, “Oh? Have you kissed more girls since spring?”

Oops. Okay, you didn’t want to ask so explicitly. But up until spring, he had never kissed anyone. And your heart fell into your ass, shoulders relaxing when he admitted, “No. Just her.”

Your eyes were wide now. You ogled at him, and then down to your drying legs again. Suppressing a smile, you nodded; and when you stared up at him anew, he was watching you intently.

Carefully, with tenderness in his gaze.

And he was close. You were half certain he’d kiss you again because for the tiniest moment, his eyes flitted down to your lips. But to your chagrin, the day and summer ended like this — mouth untouched.

He wouldn’t do more until years later.

Instead, he said, “I guess that was the last thing we still had left, right? Think I know this island inside out by now.”

“Probably,” you said, your voice hoarse. You cleared your throat, swallowed. “Would be cool to explore more with you, though. Outside this place, I mean.”

But once again, you couldn’t foresee that it’d be your last summer together for a long time. That you wouldn’t meet the boy bringing you the stars until you had hurt and broken enough.

And he didn’t know either; of course he didn’t. Because soon he promised, “When we’re older and richer, I’ll take you to the mountains. Okay?”

You giggled, unaware of the future. Naive and thinking you’d never separate from him, that you were destined to stay together — as friends or whatever else fate wrote for you.

So you hit his chiselled chest just lightly, telling him, “You’re gonna make me fear heights again, Jeon.”

“Nah,” he rebutted, “I’ll show you the clouds,” he pointed to the sky you couldn’t see, hidden behind the branches and leaves, “from up close.”

“Hmm,” you voiced, “the stars aren’t enough, huh?”

“They shouldn’t be. Strive for more and stuff, right?”

Right…

For a couple seconds, you just looked at him. Nodding a little, smiling, probably lovesick with hearts floating in your eyes.

Eventually, you lifted up your body, getting to your feet with a hand against the tree. “Okay,” you finally agreed, “mountains then.”

–

The charm glimmers in the light. It flashes Jungkook a little, and he blinks, moving his gaze up to your face. You’re finishing up the remnants of your soup, bowl tilted, getting to the last drops.

But your movements are slow, and you’re quiet… and he wonders whether he stayed silent for too long, too.

He calls your name softly, meeting curious eyes. His heart immediately pounds, and he says, “I was just thinking of something.”

You smile. “Figured. I was, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You first, though.”

“Hmm.” He lets the spoon drop, looking at the empty bowl, and then suggests with folded arms, “What do you think of the mountains this year?”

You raise your eyebrows. Look at him as if you understood. As if you recognised where his mind wandered to, and where the source of this idea lies.

And then, you prove that very point when you ask, “Were you remembering the waterfall incident?”

His lips form an O, expression sickeningly sweet and surprised.

“Were you, too?”

“Just a little. Since we said we don’t want any heat this year.”

He puffs out a breath; a slight, disbelieving shake of his head follows. Then, he simply says, “Sick.”

You kiss your teeth, nodding along. “You did promise back then. Mountains, I mean.”

“I did. And we can still totally go.”

“I’d love to.”

A brief silence envelopes the room. The pause is pregnant, the air lighter than before; and then he breaks the stillness.

“Hey… you gotta admit. You were jealous, weren’t you?”

His voice harbours playfulness, but his eyes hold a glimmer of curiosity. You can’t help but chuckle; thinking back to it, your pout was hilarious. Troubles used to be different back then — your younger self wouldn’t have survived opening the door to a half naked friend. Jungkook, toned chest out, right behind her.

A crazy summer indeed.

“You kissed me that year,” you say, “and then you kissed someone else. Teenage me was going *through it.”

You scrunch your nose, and when he does it in the middle of a laugh, too, you lose your cool. Might be due to the bunny teeth flashing. The sweet crinkles around his eyes.

But you lift off the chair, hurriedly rounding the table, lean over his body and sandwich his face between your palms. You don’t waste another moment — connect your lips quickly, mouth moving against his.

He lets out a tiny sound of surprise, but doesn’t reject you. Instead, his hands wander to your waist in reciprocation, dropping to your hips and then to your—

You gasp, tongues intertwining eagerly; you taste the freshly eaten dinner. Your keen hands hold onto his dark locks. He breaks the kiss only to get to his feet, pulling you close to his body. His head tilts, the kiss deeper. Fingers cradling the nape of your neck.

And then, as he sucks in some air, he whispers, “What was that?”

“Just…” You inhale. “Catching up. Doing what I should’ve done back then.”

“She says as if I don’t kiss her *all the time.” Soft peck against your lower lip. “Or as if I wasn’t just inside her this noo—”

“You’re so obscene, Koo.”

He snickers. “Alright. Now that we know what we want to do,” his breath is warm against your skin; you shiver, “we can book the vacay a bit later, too, right?”

Breathing is hard, speaking even more.

Your lips are parted, yearning for more. You’re irritated by the layers of clothing between the two of you — which is why you’re quick to agree, “Not opposed to a break.”

“Also,” he continues, his eyes locked onto yours, voice tinged with anticipation, “just so you know. Our kiss *was way better than whatever I did with Jiae.”

Another soft laugh escapes your lips; the name is insignificant for you. The intoxication of the moment matters; him and you. But you still jest, “Didn’t need to connect a name to that memory.”

His chuckle matches yours, voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, you know?”

And that’s all he breathes for the next hour. Genuine confessions, tender praises — your name.

So often that you soon forget any other in the world — beyond continents and oceans.

–

liked it? then let me know!! 😁 and if you haven't yet, feel free to read the full oneshot that this drabble's a "sequel" to, as well <3

#*amc #notes for rid 🌹#anon #fic: stars behind waves #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut

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st-eve-barnes · 8 months

Text

You know that I'm no good (chapter 7)

(Modern Aegon x fem Reader, Modern Sihtric x fem Reader)

Summary: You want Sihtric. Aegon wants Skade. There's only one small problem: Sihtric and Skade are dating each other.

This chapter: you and Aegon face each other the morning after your confession. Some lies, life changing kisses and a medieval date with Sihtric. And another confession...

Warning for the entire series: 18+ for explicit language and smut. Angst/comfort/fluff. Fake dating and so much mutual pining. Mentions of depression/drinking/self harm.

This is an Aegon x Reader fic with a bit of Sihtric x Reader on the side. I've wanted to write a modern AU that combines The Last Kingdom and House of the dragon for a while now so here it is!

Word count: +3600

Masterlist

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, finding Aegon just standing there, having a stare off with your coffee maker. His hair was messy from sleeping on your couch and when he looked at you his entire face lit up with a smile.

“Good morning, beautiful, how are you feeling?”

“Like I drank half the bar last night,” you joked, making him laugh,”And you?”

“I can’t get your stupid coffee machine to work.”

“I’ll do it,” you took over from him, grabbing two mugs and putting water and coffee beans into the machine.

You both waited in silence while the machine heated up, Aegon noticed you hadn’t looked at him once since you walked in the room.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked.

You nodded,”I forgot how damaging alcohol can be…my head is still pounding and last night is a bit of a blur, I don’t…I don’t seem to remember everything.”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember being at the bar with Helaena, I remember Sihtric,” you smiled a little shyly,”And you breaking us up but then…I don’t recall you taking me home or anything…after that.”

“You just went to bed and I stayed on the couch, that’s it, nothing more to tell.”

Your eyes met his, both of you taking the other in. You handed him his coffee and he took it with a little smile, his fingers brushing yours very deliberately, sending a shockwave of want through your veins. You quickly pulled your hand back.

You’d obviously been lying through your teeth, you had been drunk but not that drunk. You remembered every little detail from the night before, including your embarrassing confession. And you knew Aegon remembered as well. But clearly you both chose to lie to each other for some reason.

You’re not sure why you felt the need to lie, maybe because you didn’t feel like being rejected twice so pretending nothing happened was just easier on your heart.

You had no idea why Aegon had also felt the need to lie.

He was the one to speak first,”So, um…you’ve clearly made some progress with Sihtric last night.”

You snorted,”A little.”

“Do you still want…I mean, do you want to drop this whole fake dating thing then? Since he obviously knows who you are now.”

Your heart sank. Was this it? Did he want nothing more to do with you now after your stupid confession?

“Do you want to drop it?” you asked carefully, preparing yourself for the worst but Aegon was quick to put those thoughts to rest.

“No, I don’t want to drop it,” he answered, sipping from his coffee and keeping his eyes on yours,”I quite enjoy being your fake boyfriend.”

You smiled and took a sip from your coffee as well, trying to hide how flustered you felt under his warm gaze.

“And you still need Skade to notice you, right?” you added, trying to change the subject so you could breathe again.

He just nodded,”Yeah, there’s that too.”

You both stayed quiet for a moment, stealing glances from behind your coffee mugs.

“There’s this medieval festival in the park this afternoon,” Aegon then suggested,”We should go. I’m sure your Viking will be there.”

***

The medieval fair took place in the park, near some of the castle ruins. As you stepped through the entrance it felt like you were setting foot into another time, lots of people were dressed up, there were stalls as far as you could see selling medieval food, weapons and jewelry. There was laughter and chatter and the sun was out in a perfect clear blue sky. The day couldn’t be more perfect.

You had a feeling that was about to change.

Helaena found you first, making her way over to you with a big smile on her face and pulling you into a hug right away. She was wearing a long green dress and had flowers in her hair, looking the part perfectly and you suddenly felt out of place in your jeans and top.

”Okay, I need to hear all about last night,” Helaena insisted with an eager smile,” I saw you leave the bar with Sihtric, gimme all the details, babe.”

You laughed and shook your head,”Well, actually…funny story.”

But Helaena didn’t find it very funny and her smile faded quickly when you explained to her what really happened last night. You conveniently left out the part where you basically confessed your love to Aegon.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she shook her head,”God, I can not fucking believe he cockblocked you.”

“It’s fine,” you tried to appear unbothered by the whole thing and she seemed to buy into it.

“Well, I guess the positive thing is you did learn that Sihtric is really into you.”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

And that Aegon is really not.

“You don’t seem very happy with that,” she noticed.

“No, I am, of course I am.”

You weren’t very convincing this time and of course Helaena noticed.

“Did something else happen?” she asked, reading you like an open book that had zero secrets for her.

“Yeah, but I can’t tell you, at least not yet,” you confessed,”Is that okay?”

The look on her face was so full of concern it made your heart ache and when she reached out to grab your hand your emotions started bubbling.

“Oh babe, of course it’s okay,” she comforted you,”I’m here for you and you can tell me anything, you know that.”

You nodded, biting back your tears.

“But if you don’t feel comfortable sharing something then that’s fine too,” she reassured you,”I just want you to be okay.”

“Thanks,” you squeezed her hand and let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Maybe you should let your boyfriend take care of you,”Helaena then sighed, making you look up in surprise at her comment but then you noticed Aegon walking up to you both.

His hair was pulled back into a man bun and he was wearing jeans and a casual white shirt. He looked devastatingly handsome, this was all so unfair.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Helaena let go of your hand and walked past Aegon, but not without giving him an angry look, a clear warning: You hurt her and I will come for you.

Aegon just gave her a small nod and then his eyes were on you.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you answered, eyes locking with his,”What? No pet name? Are we out of the honeymoon phase already?”

He smiled fondly and took another step closer to you, carefully lifting his hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin ever so softly.

“Hey, my sweet girl,” he then whispered.

You closed your eyes and sighed into his touch. This wasn’t fair, none of this was fair. How were you ever going to suppress your feelings for him if he kept being so damn sweet to you?

“You okay? You’re shaking,” Aegon’s thumb moved from your cheek down to your neck, only making you shiver more.

“I’m okay.”

You were not okay, you were falling to pieces right there in front of him.

Aegon sensed your anxiety and leaned in to nuzzle your cheek while he wrapped both arms around you in a soft hug.

“It’s okay, breathe,” he whispered,”Just breathe, sweetheart.”

You did as he asked, trying to calm yourself down and focus only on him.

The feel of his arms around you made everything so much better. In this moment you didn’t even care that it was just pretend, you just needed to feel him. You hugged him back and he took a couple of deep breaths with you, holding you close but not too close for it to feel suffocating to you.

“Easy, don’t try to rush it,” he encouraged you.

You took your time to breathe in and out, letting your body melt into his at the same time.

“That’s my good girl,” he then praised you with a little smile.

Your wanted to kiss him and smack him at the same time, there was no way he didn’t know what he was doing to you with those words.

“You okay?” he checked.

”Yeah, I’m sorry, it was just…the heat I think,” you lied and you leaned back, giving him a thankful smile and breaking the hug.

“Don’t be sorry,” Aegon pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.“You can come to me, you know. If you ever…if you're struggling or whatever. I can be there for you.”

You nodded and leaned back to look into his eyes. For a moment you both just stared at each other, Aegon’s hands still on your waist and yours tangled in his shirt, keeping him close to you.

“Aegs,” you whispered,”I…”

The rest of your words were swallowed by his lips on yours, kissing you so softly it was making your heart ache. And then his hands were cupping your face and he kissed you deeper, hungrier and more desperate than he ever had before. You softly moaned into the kiss, pulling him closer to you. He reciprocated your moan with one of his own while his tongue teased yours.

This kiss was different, this kiss was everything and you wanted to disappear into it.

Your name was a soft whimper on his lips but then he leaned back and forced himself to look away from you.

“I…um…I think we should go find your Viking and Skade then, shall we?”

Aegon pulled back from you, refusing to look into your eyes again.

You wanted to scream.

Sihtric was not your Viking, he was not your anything. You didn’t even want him right now, all you wanted was Aegon.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head, trying to look enthusiastic about the idea as you followed him through the stalls.

It didn’t take long for you to run into Sihtric who was standing alone by the bar.

Aegon put his hand on the small of your back.“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he whispered against your ear before giving you a little push into Sihtric’s direction. And then he was gone.

You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. You wanted Aegon to come back and kiss you again and tell you he didn’t want Skade anymore, that he only ever wanted you. You wanted to take him with you to your apartment and let him do unspeakable things to you.

You shook your head and took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts away to the back of your mind where they belonged.

Forcing yourself to take the next step you hesitantly walked up to the bar. When Sihtric noticed you, you could see the nerves all over his face and he was looking over your shoulder to check if Aegon was nearby.

“Hey,” you smiled,”Don’t worry, I’m alone.”

Relief flooded his features and he smiled back at you,”Everything okay with you and Aegon? I hope I didn’t…mess anything up there.”

“No, you didn’t,” you reassured him.

“Good, so are you guys…?”

“We’re good, we…um…decided not to be exclusive anymore though.” You were improvising but it seemed like the most plausible explanation for why you and Aegon were together but still pursuing him and Skade.

“Cool,” Sihtric stated, unable to keep that little satisfied smirk off his face,”So…does that mean…can I take you out sometime?”

His eyes searched yours, waiting for a confirmation. One you weren’t sure you could give him, but then you saw something from the corner of your eyes. Aegon, and Skade.

His hand rested on her back as they talked, faces close to each other and she was giggling like a school girl at whatever bullshit Aegon was whispering into her ear.

To say that it hurt would be a severe understatement, it felt like someone ripped your heart out, threw it out onto the grass and stomped on it, repeatedly. You averted your gaze and Sihtric noticed.

He leaned a little closer to you,“Let me guess, the non exclusive thing was Aegon’s idea?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, looking up into his eyes, they showed nothing but compassion and it made you feel better somehow.

“Listen, we don’t have to go on a date or anything,” he then spoke softly,”We can just hang out if you want, if you need someone to distract you from…whatever they’ll be doing.”

“Oh god, they’re gonna be doing it!” you realized in horror and then you realized you had actually said that out loud in front of Sihtric, making you cover your face in embarrassment.

Sihtric just placed a comforting hand on your shoulder,”Sorry, that wasn’t very tactful of me.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“You clearly love him a lot,” he noticed.

“No, I don’t,” you denied, too quickly and too desperately,”We’re just dating, it’s not…I’m not in love.”

“You sure about that?” Sihtric asked.

Meanwhile Aegon had his hand in Skade’s hair and you could see the way he smiled at her and hung on her every word, her lips dangerously close to his.

Sihtric grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours, then slowly turned you towards him and away from Aegon and Skade.

”It hurts, I know,” he spoke softly and you looked up at him, the sadness in his mismatched eyes made you feel strangely comforted and understood.

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed his hand and gave him an encouraging smile.

“I think we could both use a little comfort, don't you?” Sihtric realized and you nodded your head, allowing him to move closer to you and when he placed his hand on your back to rub soft, comforting circles into your skin you couldn’t help but lean into him.

As you were gazing up into Sihtric’s eyes you missed the way Aegon was looking at you both, the smile falling from his face instantly after seeing how close you two were. He was quick to turn his attention back to Skade, who hadn’t even granted Sihtric one look the entire time now that Aegon was with her.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” Sihtric suggested,”I’ll buy you a cup of ale and we’ll go watch the sword fighting, how does that sound?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness and how patient and sweet he was being with you, again.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” you nodded.

“Come on,” Sihtric offered you his hand and you gladly excepted, letting him guide you away from Aegon and Skade.

You had to admit spending the afternoon with Sihtric was exactly what you needed, fun and far away from Aegon. You quickly forgot why you had been so intimidated by Sihtric at first because he was one of the most easy going people you had ever talked to and the conversation flowed easily between you two. He showed you around the festival, taught you how to wield a sword and bought you some medieval treats, all the while being flirty but never pushy.

Afterwards he walked you home and when you reached your door he carefully grabbed your hand, turning you towards him. You couldn’t help but blush a little when your eyes met with his heated gaze.

“I had a really great time today,” he spoke softly.

“Me too,” you smiled.

“Yeah? For real?”

“Yeah, for real,” you laughed and allowed him to pull you even closer. When he leaned in to place a quick, soft kiss on the corner of your lips you didn’t pull back. Sihtric didn’t try to force anything, after the kiss he leaned back, giving you your space but not without staring into your eyes again.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he then asked.

“Sleeping in,” you teased and he laughed softly.

“And after that? Can I…take you out for lunch? Platonically.”

You laughed and nodded your head,”I can do platonic lunch, yes.”

Sihtric’s face lit up and he gave you another sweet smile before he waved goodbye, leaving you alone to enter your apartment.

***

Aegon was tossing and turning in his bed that night. He was alone, despite Skade’s offer to spend the night with him. It was nice to catch up with her, and he didn’t hate the flirting either but the longer the conversation went on the more he could feel his mind starting to drift off. To you, it was always you, had been for weeks now no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

He switched on the lamp on the night stand and turned on his tv, looking for some background noise from Netflix, anything to stop him from thinking about you. And the way Sihtric so shamelessly flirted with you, right there in front of him. Aegon wanted to punch him in his pretty face.

He moved to sit up straight in his bed, hand searching for his phone. No new notifications. His finger moved to his contact list, hovering over your name but then he leaned back with a heavy sigh.

“Don’t be stupid,” he sighed to himself.

***

You had gone to bed feeling positive and good about your time with Sihtric, and you were actually looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow.

It wasn’t until you’d laid awake in bed for a while longer that your mind started to drift off again. And it wasn’t to Sihtric this time.

Sihtric was sweet, really sweet, much sweeter than you deserved. And you had no doubt you could have a good time with him. But he wasn’t what your heart truly desired.

Your heart was still craving someone else and thinking about him hurt just as much as it did that afternoon. Spending time with Sihtric hadn’t changed anything.

You opened your contacts, looking at Aegon’s name at the top, wanting nothing more than to press it and hear his voice but realizing it would be the most desperate, dumbest thing to do right now. He was probably dicking down Skade as we speak.

And now that image would haunt your nightmares.

You sighed deeply and looked at your phone one last time but just as you were about to put it away, it started ringing. It startled you so badly you dropped it on the bed before seeing the name on the screen.

You carefully picked it up and turned it around, expecting Sihtric or even Helaena but it was Aegon’s name staring right back at you. Your heart leaped out of your chest.

“Hey?” you spoke carefully.

For a long time it remained quiet on the other end of the line and you were beginning to think he’d just butt dialed you but then his voice finally rang in your ears. He sounded soft and a little sleepy.

“Hey, baby, you awake?”

“No, I’m picking up in my sleep,” you joked and his tired laughter filled your ear, making your heart sing.

“You alone?” he then asked, more serious.

“Yeah, I’m alone. You?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“What happened? Did you kick Skade out of your bed already?”

“She was never in my bed.”

His tone was so serious, you didn’t think you’d ever heard him be this serious before.

“She turn you down?” you asked.

“No, she was up for it but…I don’t know, Wasn’t feeling it.”

“Who are you and what have you done to Aegon Targaryen?” you teased.

He laughed again but it was brief and followed by more silence.

“What about Sihtric, hm?” he asked after a while,”He seemed pretty eager to get into your bed.”

“We’re going on a date tomorrow,” you confessed,”Well, not actually a date date, he invited me for lunch…”

“Oh.”

More silence, you weren’t sure whether he was just very sleepy, or nearly passed out drunk, or if it was something else.

“Are you drunk?” you asked directly.

“No, I’m not drunk.”

“Okay, good, what’s wrong then? You sound…off.”

He sighed deeply,”It’s nothing, I just…forget it. Enjoy your not date tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” you spoke softly.

“I guess I...I should go,” his voice sounded downright sad right now and it hurt your heart.

“Aegon…wait.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we…can you just talk to me for a little while? Help me fall asleep.”

For the first time during this conversation you could practically hear him smile through the phone and his voice seemed to perk up at your request,“Yeah, I can do that, if you want. Are you in bed right now?”

“I am, you?”

“Hmm,” he hummed,”What do you want to talk about?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you whispered,”Anything you want. Tell me about the last movie you saw, I don’t care, I just…just wanna hear your voice, it always calms me down.”

Aegon was quiet again and then you heard him sigh softly,”Do you wanna come over?”

Suddenly you were wide awake again.“I don’t know if that’s…”

”Come over and watch Stranger Things with me."

“Now?” you asked.

“Yes, right now, I’ll get my driver to come pick you up, you don’t even have to change.”

“Aegs, it’s the middle of the night,” you sighed.

“I know…I know it’s late. And I shouldn’t have called you, but I just…,” he sighed deeply,”Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you here,” he whispered, waking up an army of butterflies in your stomach,”My bed is so cold and...I just want you here with me…can you please come over? Please, baby.”

You stayed quiet, your heart racing and your mouth unable to form words.

“Please?” Aegon begged again in a tired whisper.

“Yeah,” you breathed,"Okay, send your driver."

***

#aegon x reader #aegon x you #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #aegon smut #sihtric smut #hotd fanfic #the last kingdom fanfic #tom glynn carney fanfic #arnas fedaravicius fanfic #modern AU

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hard-core-super-star · 1 year

Text

frequency of all we know... [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: you and your girlfriend share an intimate moment during the Vanity Fair afterparty.

wordcount: 1.7k

warnings: completely over the place writing, suggestive themes [aka one (1) bathroom makeout session], boyfriend!hailee, the term clingy [but not meant in a bad way], me desperately trying to manifest an oliva rodrigo x hailee steinfeld collab.

a/n: i can't believe i've had this account for a year and the thing that made me finally post was this damn gif of hailee and eiza. this entire fic was inspired by this tweet and it's also been playing on loop in my brain since i first saw it. [shoutout to this post as well] might mess around and post more fics soon but idk, we'll see. enjoy!

* * * * * * *

You always knew your girlfriend had some borderline clingy tendencies.

Whether it was holding your hand wherever you went, or wrapping her arms around your waist whenever she got the chance, she always had to be touching you in some way. You never minded the contact, you actually found it really endearing, but it was getting harder and harder to hide your relationship with how touchy you two always are with each other.

Whenever you two were spotted at the same event together, her fandom would collectively lose their mind, posting picture after picture and talking about how cute you two are. But of course, the fan reaction wasn't all positive, and as much as you hated to admit it, the hate you received for your close relationship with Hailee weighed heavy on your mind.

It didn't matter how many times your girlfriend told you she didn't care about anyone's opinion or how close she held you to her, the hate followed you around like a rabid dog.

You knew her fans were right, she could do so much better than you. She deserves so much more than you could ever give her. Hailee is a goddess sent from the heavens and you're just…you. Plain old you.

Your girlfriend clearly doesn't care about any of those thoughts and opinions though, judging by the way her hands have been gripping your waist all night.

You originally didn't want to go to the Vanity Fair post-Oscar party. As much as you love going to events with Hailee, you really weren't in the mood to spend the entire night looking over your shoulder, making sure your relationship stayed a secret.

That all changed, however, when she asked you to go with her, giving you the most adorable puppy-dog eyes in the process and making it impossible to say no. (Not that you've ever been good at saying no to her.)

So you agreed, albeit reluctantly, to accompany her which led to you spending most of the night pretending like you don’t notice all the looks and the questions thrown your way as Hailee keeps you close to her.

She was subtle at first.

Only casually brushing your hands together while you stood next to each other or subtly wrapping an arm around your waist while you were talking with someone who was standing a little too close to you but as the night dragged on, her borderline possessive clinginess started showing more and more.

You had been glued at the hip the entire night until Eiza convinced her to go ask Billie to introduce them to Olivia Rodrigo. She had asked if you wanted to go with them but you declined the offer, wanting her to spend time with her friends without you hovering. (You did make her promise to bring up the idea for a potential collab to Olivia before she left though.)

And now you’re here, keeping Zoey company and trying not to freak out about the fact that Cate Blanchett and Sarah Paulson are in the same room as you.

Zoey's in the middle of a story, something about a recent audition she went to, her eyes are trained on you. At some point in the conversation, her hand had landed on your arm and it still hadn't left.

You didn't pay much attention to that detail as you struggled to keep up with her story.

You lean in closer in an attempt to hear her better and that's when Hailee walks back toward you.

“Do you mind if I steal y/n from you real quick?”

Your shoulders immediately relax the moment your eyes meet hers. She doesn’t wait for a response from Zoey, her hand reaching out for you. You take it without hesitation, muttering a half-assed apology to the other girl.

If she notices the possessiveness in Hailee’s movements she doesn’t react, she just gives you a little wave as Hailee drags you away. You swear you see the ghost of a smirk on her face but it's probably just a trick of the lights.

You let your girlfriend lead the way and she pulls you into a private bathroom. You barely have enough time to blink before she's closing the door behind you and pushing you against it.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look today, baby?” She asks, her voice soft as she looks down into your y/e/c eyes.

“You have,” you reply as you wrap your arms around her neck. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

She smiles and you swear your knees buckle a little at the sight. "You are the most stunning sight I've ever seen…especially when you're in my clothes."

Her eyes trail down from your eyes to the rest of your body, her smile growing the slightest bit as her hands land on your waist. Her thumbs draw small circles there as she messes with the fabric of her oversized coat.

You had made a small comment about how you were cold earlier in the night and Hailee had wasted no time in throwing her coat over your shoulders. You assured her it wasn't necessary but she insisted and well…you can't deny how much you love wearing her clothes.

Especially when she looks at you like that while you’re in them.

"Always the charmer, aren't you, Lee?"

A small chuckle escapes her mouth at the sound of the nickname. "Only with you, my love."

"Are you sure about that? Because your fans are convinced you have heart-eyes for someone else."

"They're a little slow," she says while she leans in a little closer. "But I have faith in them."

Whatever witty reply you were about to say dies in your throat the second she connects her lips to yours. You pull her closer, letting the taste of her overwhelm your senses.

You could spend an eternity kissing her and it still wouldn't be enough. No matter how much time you spend with her, you’re always craving more of her.

You would feel weird about that if it weren’t for the fact that Hailee clearly feels the same way about you.

“Hailee…” Your hands grip tightly onto her shoulders as she trails a path of kisses down your jaw. “They’re gonna start looking for us if we don’t go right now.”

She ignores your words, her lips moving onto your neck and you gasp as you feel her teeth against your skin. Every other thought leaves your mind as your back arches into her touch.

"You're mine." Her words are mumbled against your neck and the low tone in which she says them sets your body ablaze.

Despite your body's reaction to her words, you can't help but give in to the urge to tease her. "If this is because of Zoey…I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah? Well, so do you.”

“Oh my God.” Your head hits the door with a soft ‘thud'.

She pulls away from your neck, her eyes searching for yours. “Was that too much?”

Your heart flutters a little at the soft traces of worry on her face. You shake your head while one of your hands moves to cup her cheek, your thumb moving back and forth on her warm skin. “That was perfect…you’re perfect.”

The corners of her mouth lift up into the most breathtaking smile you’ve ever seen. "You read my mind, baby."

She leans in and you meet her halfway. You all but melt against her and you quickly decide that kissing her is much more important than whatever people have to say about the two of you.

"Let's go home," you mumble against her lips. "Fuck the party."

She pulls away slightly. "Oh, I'm definitely thinking of fucking something right now."

Her words send a small shiver down your spine. As much as you would love for her to have her way with you right now, you'd much rather it be in the comfort of your own home.

"We're leaving." You try to sound assertive but your voice comes out a little too breathless for that. "Now."

She raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused by your attempted dominance. You expect her to make a teasing remark but she doesn't. Instead, she gives you one last kiss before taking one of your hands in hers and dragging you out of the bathroom.

If your friends notice the hickey on your neck, they make no comments about it. Probably more than used to Hailee's (not so subtle) possessive antics.

Her arm remains wrapped tightly around your waist as the two of you wait outside of the venue for your driver to show up, making small talk with Eiza and Billie to pass the time.

You're too busy playfully arguing with Billie about convincing Olivia to collab with Hailee to notice your girlfriend's movement.

It's not until you feel her chin on your shoulder that you realize she's fully wrapped you up in her arms. You smile as you place your hands on top of hers, your fingers messing with one of her rings.

"Y'all are too cute, what the hell?" Billie turns to Eiza. "You seeing this bullshit?"

"Don't sound so jealous, sweetheart," you tease her.

"Oh, fuck off."

You spend the next few minutes joking around with your friends, your girlfriend's arms wrapped securely around you. You're blissfully unaware of the paparazzi across the street capturing the moment.

It's not until you see Hailee's name trending on Twitter the next morning that you realize the two of you caused quite the splash online.

You show your phone to your girlfriend as the two of you lay on her bed, your head resting on her chest. "Your manager is going to kill you."

All she does is laugh while her fingers draw small circles on your bare waist. "Totally worth it."

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfeld fluff #marvel #mcu #wlw #wlw fic #writing #if you made it this far: stream sunkissing

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rorywritesjunk · 5 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. Chapter warning has drinking, a drunk and all over the place Buggy, and Sunny just quietly being "what the fuck". Also it's Buggy's birthday. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I actually have started rewriting it after chapter 5 because I realized I wanted to change some things up.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness @uhnanix

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 6

“I think she’s heartbroken.” Benji said as he and Miss Pins watched you stumble around the shop, looking through stacks of fabric and spools of thread looking for your tailor’s chalk that was tucked up in behind your ear. You had been acting… odd since you told Buggy to leave the shop three weeks ago. You managed to sew a customer’s order to your lap, sewed cuffs inside out on another one, and just now you spent the last hour looking for the blue piece of tailor’s chalk that you tucked behind your ear.

“Oh?” Miss Pins replied, head resting in her hand as she watched you look through the same stack of fabric again. “You’re a kid, how do you know about heartbreak?”

“I was in love with a girl and she broke my heart.” Benji told her as you finally found the chalk and set it on the table. “We were 12. She told me she wanted someone nicer, which was dumb. I am nice. I just voice my opinions.”

“Well, don’t get hung up on that young romance. Someone else will come around.” The old woman said as you started looking for your scissors next. They were in a cup in front of you along with other tools. “This is really sad. Did she like the idiot that much?”

“I think so.” Benji frowned. “I didn’t like him.”

“Neither did I.” Miss Pins sighed. “So of course Sunny would.”

“Why did she like him?” Benji asked. Miss Pins shrugged.

“She’s always been kind, ever since she showed up here all those years ago.” Your boss replied. “No matter who someone was or how awful they were, she would just be nice to them.”

You finally found the scissors and held them up triumphantly before pausing and staring down at your work. It took you so long to find the tailor’s chalk that you forgot why you needed it and the scissors. You were distracted, half expecting Buggy to come bursting into the shop any moment now with some silly little thing to fix on his jacket, but you were quite firm when you told him to leave that one day, so he must have taken it to heart. You weren’t going to see him again.

Was it fair you got upset because he couldn’t remember your name? But at the same time, the way he reacted was more hurtful. Something stupid like your name. It repeated in your head nonstop and you wished it wouldn’t. He was just so mean about it. Sure, he had been rude and a bit of an ass since you met him, but it was never mean.

You remembered what you were working on. A customer wanted his jacket to have reinforced stitches in the sleeves but more room in the shoulders to allow him better movement when he used his sword. He had come into the shop and while you even thought he was handsome, you didn’t hide your disappointment that it wasn’t Buggy. Miss Pins gave the job to you and the man paid ahead of time, so you immediately started working.

Maybe Buggy would show back up.

You had been fast asleep until you were woken up by someone yelling outside the shop. You heard your boss shouting from her bedroom window at whoever it was, but you got up to see what was going on. You heard her shout Dammit Buggy! So you headed downstairs to the shop and opened the door.

Sure enough, Buggy was standing there, glaring upwards at Miss Pins’ window. He swayed where he stood, a bottle clutched in his hand before he raised it up.

“You’re loud too, Miss Pins!” He shot back before shrieking and jumping out of the way. Miss Pins had dumped a cup of water on him. “Hey!”

“Buggy?” You stepped out of the shop and closed the door behind you. His eyes lit up when he saw you and he had a big smile on his face. His face was flushed and he looked so happy to see you.

“Su-Sunny! You’re still here!” He slurred, grinning as he dropped the bottle and threw his arms around you, catching you off guard. “I thought maybe… maybe you left and never wanted to see me again!”

Oh, this was a happy and drunk Buggy. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as well coming off of his clothes. You wondered how much he had already. It was best to send him on his way, to not get involved, but you worried what sort of trouble he would get into if you left him alone, so you called up to your boss’s window that you’d be back later, you wanted to make sure he got back to his ship safely. You picked up the bottle and put your arm around his waist, keeping a firm hold on him to keep him from wandering off.

“‘S my birrrrthday!” He announced as he slung an arm over your shoulder, laughing loudly as you made your way down the road and toward the docks. “I’m… I’m two months… After you. I’m younger.”

“You definitely are.” You mused as you tightened your arm around him. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You’re touching me.” He lifted his arm to have another drink and realized he didn’t have his bottle. “Where-”

“I have it, Buggy.” You told him, holding it up to show him. “No more, okay?”

He looked grumpy until his hand popped off and grabbed it from you, bringing it back to himself. Smirking triumphantly, he raised the bottle to his lips and continued drinking. You weren’t opposed to drinking at all, but you also didn’t want to be around a drunk pirate right now. You wanted to be home and sleeping.

“Which one is your ship?” You asked when you came to the docks. He lowered the bottle and frowned as he looked at them before pointing to one furthest to the right. You hoped he was right as you walked with him to the ship, still keeping a hold on him. Once you dropped him off you’d head back home, but he turned to you with bright and excited eyes.

“Have a drink with me!” He pleaded. “It’s… it’s my birthday.”

“I know it’s your birthday, you told me.” You reminded him. “And I don’t want a drink, Buggy. I need to get home.”

“Please?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks. You kept your arm around him and looked over at him. The happy and bouncy Buggy was gone, replaced with someone different. He looked unsure of himself right then as he asked you, turning his gaze to his feet. You were going to regret this but you sighed and nodded.

“One drink.” You told him, and before you knew it, he was smiling again and taking hold of your hand, leading you up to his ship with his chest puffed out proudly, looking quite happy once more. You followed after him, shaking your head as he led you to what you figured was the captain’s quarters. One drink, that was it, then you’d head home.

He finally finished the bottle and tossed it aside before stumbling over to a cabinet for more. You took a seat on his bed, watching him as he rummaged around before pulling out two glasses and a bottle. He grinned at you, wagging his eyebrows as he brought you a glass and opened the bottle, but you took it from him.

“The birthday boy shouldn’t be pouring his own drink.” You told him as he plopped down beside you. You didn’t trust him to not spill it everywhere so you poured him a glass before your own, setting the bottle out of his immediate reach (which was silly because he could still grab it with his Devil Fruit powers). “Cheers, Buggy.”

He smiled brightly and let his head rest on your shoulder as he gripped his glass tightly. “You’re nice.”

“I’ve been told that.” You chuckled. “Thanks.”

“No, no, no, you’re so nice.” He continued gushing. “And… y’know, I’m gonna marry you. You’re so nice, Sunny, and I’m not married, y’know, so we should get married.”

You choked on your drink and set the glass aside, coughing a bit before clearing your throat. Oh, he was so drunk. You reached up to pat his cheek gently. “You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow, so don’t propose marriage to me yet.”

He tossed his drink back before giving you his glass. You put it beside yours, not wanting to fill it back up. The moment your hand was free he took it in his own, entwining his fingers with yours as he continued his drunken rambles.

“We’ll get married, because you’re so nice to me, and I’ll be so happy.” He continued as he turned to look up at you. “I want to be happy with you, Sunny.”

“Buggy, I want you to be happy too.” You told him. “I don’t know if marrying someone will make you happy, however.”

“Is it because I was an asshole on your birthday? Is… is that why you won’t marry me?” Buggy asked with a frown. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I was mean. I was an asshole. I like you a lot and got scared ‘cause I couldn’t remember your name, and you have a nice name, and I didn’t get you a present.” He suddenly dropped your hand and stood up, marching back over to his cabinet. “Wait, I wanna sh-show you somethin’!”

Oh, Drunk Buggy was just a bit everywhere. Happy, excited, emotional, and apologetic. It was kind of fun to see in a way. He rummaged through the cabinet before hurrying back over to you, tripping over his own feet before falling onto his bed beside you. He held up something and you took it. They were photographs of two young boys, one with a straw hat and red hair, and the other had to be Buggy going by the bright red nose and scowl.

“That’s me,” He pointed to himself in the photo. “Wasn’t sure if you knew. And that’s Shanks. We… we were best friends on a ship together and then we weren’t.” He frowned. “Haven’t been for a few years.” He sat up on the bed and leaned into you again. “You’re really nice.”

“Thank you for apologizing for my birthday, Buggy.” You told him as you looked through the photos. There weren't many, and they were old, showing their age in their wrinkles and fading color. Buggy certainly was a cute little kid. “I’m sorry I was rude to you.”

He straightened up and put both of his hands on your cheeks, turning your head so you faced him. He glared at you and you wondered what was about to happen, but his gaze suddenly softened and he looked down at his lap, his hands still on your cheeks. “Don’t you ever apologize because you’re perfect and have done nothing wrong ever.”

You put both of your hands on his and moved them off your face. “Buggy, I think you need to go to bed.”

He turned red suddenly and pulled away from you, looking down at his lap as you got to your feet and removed his hat, setting it down on a nearby trunk. You noticed he went quiet but decided not to say anything as you looked for some kind of sleep clothes for him, or did he just sleep in his everyday clothes? When you looked back over at him he was struggling to remove his shirt. You sighed and went to help him get free of it. When you saw his face again, he looked away once more.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you knelt in front of him to help take his boots off. You didn’t trust him to do it himself, afraid he’d topple over and hit his head.

“I never… with… with anyone before.” He mumbled as he gestured between the two of you. For a solid minute you stared at him as you tried to process what he was thinking, and when it hit you, your face burned as you set his boots aside. “So um…”

“Neither have I, Buggy, but that’s not what I said.” You told him firmly. “I told you it’s time for bed. For you, not me. You need to get some sleep.”

“Canyoustaythenight?” He blurted out. “Please? I don’t… want to be alone.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to wrap your mind around this. You didn’t intend for any of this to happen. You were just going to bring him home before going back to your place to crawl into your bed, but he managed to get you to stay for a drink (that you didn’t finish) and now he wanted you to spend the night.

He was looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world right then. It was a little hard to say no, but you did want to make sure he would be okay, so you removed your own shoes before putting your hands on your hips. “Where are your pajamas?”

He shrugged as he fell back on his bed, stretching out across it. His entire body separated for a moment before snapping back together and honestly, it was momentarily horrifying to see it all happen at once. You needed him to explain this but not when he was drunk. You sighed and nudged him to get under the blankets, which he did, watching you once more with bright, excited eyes as you got into bed beside him. Almost immediately he wrapped himself around you, resting his head against your chest as he closed his eyes and sighed happily.

“So nice, so soft, warm.” He mumbled quietly. You took the chance to remove his bandana, pleasantly surprised to see how long his hair was. Why did he keep it all hidden? You ran your fingers through it as he made himself comfortable against you. “I don’t wanna be away from you again, please, ‘msorry.”

“Get some sleep, Buggy.” You told him as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Okay? No more talking.”

“Imma marry you.” He sighed. You rolled your eyes and wondered what you needed to expect the next morning.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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saintsenara · 7 months

Note

I really like Snape as a character. I made the mistake of mentioning that online. Someone asked me how I like a character is inexcusably mean to children when he is a position of authority around them and how he is petty, can be cruel and harsh teacher and his lack of patience towards Nerville and basically a list of all the mean/horrible stuff that he has said/done. What do you say when people ask you how you can reconcile liking such a character given all of cruel and hurtful things that he has said and done both towards his students and joined willingly a known blood supremacist terrorist group and said known slur towards his friend that is a member of a minority group? I find Snape to be a deeply compelling and flawed and complex character- that's why I enjoy seeking out Snape centric fics.

thank you very much for the ask, anon, and i'm sorry that people have popped off about you liking snape. it's an extremely tedious way for them to behave, since these people are fictional.

i must be honest, i don't really get asked to justify my fondness for the baddies anymore, partially because i curate my fandom space in order to avoid it and partially because i must give the impression of not caring, but i've never found it particularly difficult to reconcile the fact that all my favourite characters are mass-murderers with the fact that i myself am not one...

the first - and frankly the most important - way that i do this is because i understand what genre conventions are.

it seems to me that this is the thing that really is the most lacking in the discourse surrounding the 'bad' characters in the harry potter series, with snape chief among them, but it’s absolutely crucial to understand:

snape is a mean teacher because harry potter is for children, and children do not want to read about sweet or competent adults.

[this is also the reason why the dursleys are horrible, or why hogwarts is such a dangerous and poorly-run school - if the series contained the line, a troll did not get into the dungeon and so harry did his homework, then any child worth their salt is hurling the book into a fire.]

it must be remembered that child readers - for whom the text is primarily intended - will have a different response to the tropes and themes of the series than adults returning to it with their own experiences, and that adults' responses to the books are not responses that the books were written to provoke. this doesn't mean that adults' reactions are unreasonable - nor does it mean that adults shouldn't engage with harry potter, as my 300k words on ao3 attests... - it simply means that it is not a flaw of the series that snape's behaviour is not addressed in the way that adults would like it to be. it's just genre.

because children tend to see the things in the series which horrify us as adults as considerably less frightening or problematic than we do ourselves. indeed, they often see interactions which we read as abusive, or as evidence of systematic cruelty, as simply unfair, and they are looking for retribution not in terms of legal punishment or wide-ranging institutional change, but in the character who is behaving unfairly getting their comeuppance, often in a comic way.

this is because fairness-unfairness is one of the primary ways in which children understand justice. as adults, we think with more nuance - but that doesn’t mean that our response to the text is better. in fact, we have a responsibility to understand the series’ genre conventions when we approach characters in our own writing - if you want to make snape a violent abuser, you actually need to understand all the ways in which the series shows him not to be those things.

snape’s relationship with his classes is written in a way which provokes the response in children that he is unfair, but not one which provokes the response that he is frightening - indeed, the story generally treats his 'cruelty' as comic, at least until half-blood prince, and he often gets an embarrassing comeuppance when he tries to be sincerely malicious. [i.e. literally everything which happens to him in prisoner of azkaban.]

he is unfair, because he doesn’t tell malfoy off for misbehaving. he is unfair, because he doesn’t give hermione a chance to answer questions. he is unfair, because he is rude to harry (who, like any good child hero worth his salt, has no respect for snape and isn’t scared of him). he is unfair, because he gives horrible detentions.

but no child character in the story ever seriously believes his behaviour to go beyond this - including neville.

neville’s fear of snape is caused by snape being unfair towards him - and, since neville is a character the text likes, snape therefore frequently gets his comeuppance for this unfairness. the incident where he threatens to poison trevor is horrible to read as an adult, but as a child the outcome - snape is foiled in his plan because of neville and hermione - is understood as triumphant. snape - an adult - is constantly outfoxed by his pupils - who are not adults - and children love to see that.

[similarly, it really should be emphasised that the text treats neville’s fear of snape as ridiculous. lupin laughs in his face about it in prisoner of azkaban, and neville himself admits that it’s silly and irrational. it cannot be seriously suggested - although i've seen plenty of people try - that snape is his boggart instead of bellatrix because snape sincerely frightens him more. he fears snape more than bellatrix because his narrative purpose in the first four books is to be comic relief - he’s a bit cowardly and a bit useless, and he provides a character for the child reader to feel braver and cleverer than.]

obviously, these incidents read very differently to adults - especially if you are an adult who has, knows, or works with small children. but if somebody complains to you about your favourite characters because they're upset by children’s literature without thinking about how it’s intended to be read by its primary audience... that’s not your problem.

but even beyond genre, i feel comfortable liking ‘bad’ characters because i understand human complexity.

online, it is increasingly becoming a dogma that our attitudes are fixed and unchangeable. i feel incredibly sorry for young people nowadays, who often have to live in a state of hypervigilance in order to make sure that they never do or say anything cruel or ignorant. this must be miserable, because flawlessness is unattainable - not only for real people but for fictional ones as well.

the fannish desire to write someone like snape off as bad and unchangeable - alongside the accompanying tendency to minimise the human flaws of characters such as james and sirius - comes from the fact that snape, like many antagonists, holds up a mirror to us as the reader. and we may not like what we see.

snape’s life demonstrates that it’s very easy to be radicalised into joining a terror group - particularly for people who have experienced things like poverty, being othered, or being bullied. it forces us to recognise that people who end up involved in evil did not come into it fully formed - they started somewhere, and they often ended up where they did because of failures in societies and their institutions which we ignore because they benefit us. after all, hogwarts does nothing to prevent voldemort recruiting death eaters among its pupils, hogwarts does nothing to dismantle the oppressive class system on which the wizarding world runs - the school is the archetypal ivory tower, and the ministry is no better.

snape’s life demonstrates that it's very easy for people who are victims in some areas of their lives to be perpetrators in others. trauma is often not sympathetic and perfect victimhood does not exist. having experienced trauma means you have experienced trauma - it can still make you act like a cunt.

and snape’s life also demonstrates that it’s very easy to - without entirely intending to - do something absolutely terrible, and this is something which we should always be compassionate towards. because it’s going to happen to all of us - and, actually, our terrible deed could easily be something as significant as snape’s report of the prophecy. if you drive, for example, it takes one momentary distraction for you to kill someone. what are you going to do if the person you kill is your childhood best friend, whom you love?

well… you’re going to try to redeem yourself. and, like snape, you will learn that redemption is messy and often strange, and that people can show growth in some areas and lack it in others.

and the redemption point is important - the idea that snape is redeemed by the end of the canon text is something which lots of fans push back against. but it’s crucial to note two things:

the first is that one’s own capacity for forgiveness and the potential of forgiveness as a concept are not the same thing. you might never have been able to forgive snape if you were lily or harry or dumbledore, but that says nothing about whether anyone else can or should. the second is that forgiveness and redemption are not inextricably linked. one can redeem oneself without being forgiven.

my view is that approaching bad characters with nuance is actively beneficial for us, and that having a ‘problematic fave’ is a good thing when it comes to our self-growth in the real world. if we believe ourselves to be immune to the sort of radicalising forces which would lead a person to other their best friend to the extent that they call her a slur, we will be easy to radicalise. if we believe ourselves incapable of making a dangerous mistake, we will be more likely to miss the clues that we’re about to. if we do not believe in the possibility of redemption for all, then we are going to have a very hard time when we do something bad, since we therefore have to believe in redemption for none.

thinking critically about oneself - both in relation to the media one enjoys and in general - is a protective act. learning to identify commonalities with bad people protects you. learning to recognise that you’re not always going to be good or right protects you. learning to accept that you’ll fuck up protects you. learning to be remorseful protects you. learning to forgive protects you. learning that the limits of your personal capacity to forgive is not the same as the potential of forgiveness protects you.

unsympathetic literary characters show us how to approach unsympathetic people in real life. snape is a brilliant example of what can be caused by failing to see the whole person - voldemort is evidently the only person who offers him a life-line, where dumbledore and the ‘good guys’ in wizarding society do not. this is a lesson to us all - if we flatten people into good-and-therefore-worthy-of-help and bad-and-therefore-not, it’s a recipe for disaster...

but this is all very pretentious and philosophical. the main reason why i have no qualms about enjoying ‘bad’ characters is because i’m not a cop.

the summary of the last point is - basically - that readers need to learn how to sit with discomfort in media, because discomfort within a fictional context is completely safe, and therefore it provides an outlet for people to think about themes or characters which are darker in a way which cannot cause actual harm.

fiction is not real life and fictional characters cannot harm you - and this is the case even if the fiction is about something which would or did materially harm you if it happened in real life. [this is doubly the case in harry potter because the harms upon which the series focuses are themselves fictional - the series’ blood-supremacy obviously reflects real-world examples of discrimination, but it is not something which any real person has actually experienced.]

this means that a reader’s reaction to something in fiction is always on them. authors have no responsibility to anticipate every single reader’s response to their writing - encountering something that upsets you in a fictional setting is your responsibility to deal with. [even if the author’s not tagged properly.]

snape may upset a reader for various reasons, some of which may be related to experiences of real world discrimination, but his existence cannot cause actual harm to any living person, because he and the society in which he lives are not real.

fictional crimes are not real crimes, and so, if someone tries to say that you shouldn’t enjoy reading about him because they don’t like it… they are a cop and you should have no respect for them. acab applies to the thought police too.

and knowing this gives us a powerful tool… i have no qualms about being criticised for liking bad characters because i just say acab and go on with my day.

just as you can’t cause anyone else material harm in your consumption of fiction, nor can anyone else cause you material harm just by criticising your choices - obviously, if they’re attempting to doxx you, or to cause any real-world repercussions because of your fan-fiction tastes, that’s another matter - which means that you have the power to choose to be unbothered by unjustified criticism. it’s not even that hard! simply refuse to be upset!

curate your fandom experience without shame. post what you like. block and move on. filter assiduously. scroll past without engaging. don’t waste your time getting into fights. don’t answer comments which are rude. don’t feed trolls. delete messages. this is just harry potter!

and also be compassionate towards the fact that people don’t express themselves perfectly. if you are primed not to immediately get upset or consider yourself to be under attack, you will be able to read comments with more clarity, to look and see if you can find commonalities, and to answer them in a way which doesn’t escalate the situation.

[and always remember that a lot of the angriest and most righteous comments come from teenagers, and being a teenager is hell. be compassionate, as your fandom elders had compassion for you.]

#asks answered #asenora on writing

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chiiyuuvv · 5 months

Note

BESTIEEE

I FINALLY PASSED MY HISTORY EXAM💃💃💃💃

I failed this exam A LOT OMG

BUT guess what...I PASSED IT WITH 100/100

Girl I can't believe it🥹🥹

SAUR how do you think xikers will react to you passing an exam/important test that you were working on for a long time/stressing over a lot?

You can write it whenever you can cuz I think your requests are closed, BUT I CAN WAIT. I want YOUR thoughts because you are the best writer on this app frfr. So take your time

Anyways take care bestie, don't skip your meals, love youu🤍

-🌵 anon<3

• PAIRING — bf!xikers x gn!reader

• GENRE — proud xikerss :DD, slight kissing, almost wrote a whole fic for hunter-

• WORD COUNT — 782

• AUTHOR'S NOTE — sorry this is so late!! And good job on your tests :O

• TAGLIST — @lil-elle , @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @mars101 , @nenede , @soul-is-a-strange-kid , @the-lemon-boy , @yuniniverse

MASTERLIST! – JOIN THE TAGLIST!

MINJAE ☆

Hes not even surprised atp, he knows how smart you are

But boy does he pretend to be shocked, his hand covering his mouth as he takes in another gasp

But his other hand is hiding behind his back

You seem to notice and the only thing he can do is giggle, revealing an neatly folded box

Turns out there was a very pretty necklace inside, minjae spinning you around to put it on you, whispering in your ear how pretty you look and how proud he is ♡

JUNMIN ☆

Makes sure you do nothing for the rest of the week

So what if its monday?? He'll do anything for his precious baby since you worked so hardd

Will make your meals and clean the kitchen, your room, your study area

Even gives you a bath

And he wont stop either, that is, if you want cuddles ♡

SUMIN ☆

Sumin knew how stressed out you'd get with your exams so he prepared you a little smth!!

(And also some tissues)

Finally uncovering your eyes, you find a self portrait of yourself studying

And lemme just say how beautiful you look

The lines sketched with such care and patients, now you know why sumin had been smiling so much lately ♡

JINSIK ☆

I think this calls for pizza!! 🗣🗣‼‼

Also makes sure you do nothing. All you gotta do is just there and look pretty and that was already took no effort

Also a movie night because why not, and you've been meaning to catch up on some movies, also why not??

His arm wrapped your shoulder at all times, and will whine if you try to move around

Plus random cheek kisses, yeah, thats about it ♡

HYUNWOO ☆

Decides to buy tickets last minute and takes you to the fair!!

Lots of hand holding and pda, wiping some off the cinnamon off of your lips caused by your churros

Will attempt to get you those huge teddy bears, but sulks when he cant so you just gotta give him some kisses

Also the ferris wheel!!

Makes sure youre at the tippy top then he processed to tell you how proud his is and how special you mean to him, sealing it with a kiss ♡

JUNGHOON ☆

Yall know junghoon isnt that big on physical affection

But when he hears the news hes a changed man

His eyes shot open and his hands moving faster than his brain, picking you up and spinning you around when he gives you the biggest kiss on your cheek

Wait whaat??

Wdym he did that no he didnt stop being so delusional he didnt kiss your cheek and secretly enjoyed it but not enjoying your teasings rn shut up 🙄 ♡

SEEUN ☆

"Really?! I thought you failed!!"

His response earned him a huge punch

But hes only joking, ruffling your hair before dialing his phone, calling everyone and their mom to tell the news

Man does more than just spill the tea, he makes it from scratch

Hes overally dramatic when he tells your adventure, saying how you had to cross 7 seas just to find the right answer.. but you love him anyways 🤷‍♀️ ♡

YUJUN ☆

Hes wants to hear all about it, so spill the tea 😠😠

Another one to think you taking a test was so dramatic, having to slay a dragon just to get the right answer to a question

And boy is he listening!! (He listens to you more than minjae)

He'd be so awestruck when youre done, his jaw lefted open and hes looking at you with sparkly eyes

Hes so proud of you too :(( ♡

HUNTER ☆

Also think hes like minjae with the gift giving, pulling out this beautiful bracelet he bought months ahead of time because he knew you'd do well

But unlike minjae, he takes you out to dinner!!

Yes, a big, fancy dinner. And hes paying for it all by himself <3

Hunters prince agenda omgomg

No bc he'd drop down on his knees to kiss the back of your hand, making sure to look up at you in the process, opens every. Since. Door in sight and also pushes you into your chair. Andd he also leans against the table to wipe something off the corner of your lips, giggling to himself bc youre just so adorable. i could write a whole fic honestly... ♡

YECHAN ☆

You passed your exam? Give him a hug

You got an A?? Give him a hug

You thought you were going to fail? Frowns at you, before hugging you tightly

Spends the rest of the day giving you so much love, youre only allowed to be in his arms

And is the boy so soft??? The most gentle hes ever been ♡

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 1 year

Note

Hello hello! I'm here with a request for a Brienne/female Reader fic if it tickles your fancy.

Brienne is Reader's personal guard, and is tasked to escort her to her future husband for her marriage. Problem being, Brienne is in love with her, but being the honorable soul she is, she would never let it show.

Luckily, Reader has a crush on her as well, and the time they spend together while travelling makes her fall even harder.

Angst! Jealousy! Drama! Happy ending!

Hopefully they end up running away together to a faraway land.

Love and War Part 1

Brienne x fem!reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage, light angst

A/N: Ofc it tickles my fancy! I'm combining this ask with another one that will be used in the second part:) I hope you like it<3

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair.

Slamming the door to your bedroom, you rush to your bed, sobbing. You knew you were betrothed since birth, but it never settled upon you until this year. You had only just met him months ago, and now you’re being forced to marry him for…advantage? Whose advantage? Certainly not yours.

“It’s for the good of the kingdoms!”

Your father’s voice rang in your head. What else was there to do? You couldn’t run away, a search party would be sent out before you could get a mile away. You thought about all of your options and the biggest sacrifice you’d have to make came to your mind: Brienne.

Such confusing feelings lied with her. How your chest fills with butterflies when you simply think of her, but refusing to accept it as a feeling of love. But the way she stood by you, vowing to protect you and keep you safe from all harm–her loyalty, her honor, her empathy–all swayed you from feeling like this was an innocent friendship. But how would she be able to protect you from this? From a man ten years older than you whose only job is to create an heir to his throne.

A knock on your door drew your attention away from the window. The door opened and a woman entered. Brienne stood in the doorway, her hands fidgeting in front of her. “Your Highness? The carriage is ready.”

You turned around and smiled softly at her. “Thank you, Brienne. I’ll be down shortly.”

With a curt nod, she left the room and closed the door. You stared out the window at your reflection and took a deep breath. Within the past month, you had been fit for a wedding dress, forced to help plan this occasion, and now, in the coming days, you’d be tying it all together. Writing it in ink. Etching it into your headstone.

The carriage ride to the sea port was quiet. When the horses stopped, Brienne exited immediately, assisting you as you got out. You always liked how her hand felt in yours.

In your cabin, you sat up in bed, reading in the light of a candle. Your shoulders were tense and your chest was filled with anxiety for the coming days, but when Brienne entered, the both of you having agreed to stay in the same room, your demeanor changed. Your heart rate seemed to slow, your breathing evening out, and every problem on your mind seemed to vanish.

“I spoke to the captain,” she said as she began to unlace her armor. “We should be docking in two days.”

You found it hard to not stare at her–those perfect curves, the long legs, and–

“Your Highness?”

You were brought out of your trace, “Sorry…Erm…alright. Thank you.” You turned your attention back to your book but looked up once again. “Oh, and, Brienne…please, call me Y/N.”

Watching as the ship sailed on the open ocean, Brienne looked to her right. There you were, doing the exact same thing. Watching. Waiting. Only your waiting was for a future you never wanted.

Guilt raked her mind. How could she have feelings for a woman–a princess–that she swore to protect? And how could she protect this woman when she was being shipped off to marry a man she had only just met? The honorable side of her, the one that valued her status as a patron and abettor, the one that was all work and no play, told her not to do it.

Don’t tell her. You’ll only regret it.

But the other side, the one that was carefree, the one that wanted to seize the moment in the grasp of her hand, the one that wanted to hold this woman tight in her arms at night, told her the opposite.

When you get off this ship, it’s over. She’ll be ushered off to another palace. You’ll never be able to voice your feelings.

It tore Brienne apart.

In the cabin below deck, you ate dinner in the quiet company of each other–nothing felt more right than this moment.

“It’s true,” Brienne laughed. “My father was so butt-hurt after it.”

You took a sip of wine, trying not to spill it from laughing at Brienne’s stories. “His poor self was beaten by his thirteen-year-old daughter in a sword fight. Any man of high ranking would be hurt over that.”

Brienne smiled softly as she cleaned up both of your plates. “He was definitely peeved, but he told me he was proud.”

An hour more of conversation passed before it fell silent. Brienne looked at you, her eyes giving away that she was deciding between something. Moments later, she decided. “Your Highness, I hope…I hope you don’t think me imprudent, but…”

Your hand reached across the table to take hers, smiling fondly. “Brienne, how many times will I have to ask you to not call me ‘Your Highness’? We’ve become too close for those formalities now.”

A light blush formed on Brienne’s cheeks and she hoped desperately that you wouldn’t be able to notice. “Erm…Your–” She paused. “–Y/N…You don’t want to get married, do you?” You stared blankly at her before your face changed–sorrow, dread? Brienne couldn’t tell. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this–it’s not my place. But, like you said, we’ve become close. I don’t think you should marry the prince. I only want you to be happy, and I don’t think you’ll b–”

“No,” you said. Your voice was low, and something in you flipped. “Of course I won’t be happy. I’m being forced to marry a man I don’t love, Brienne.” You stood from your chair and looked down at her, growing angry at the whole situation. “And it’s not like I can just run away! You tell me I won’t be happy? Of course I won’t be! I’d give everything to run away from this!” Tears were now choking your words and you didn’t even think before saying the next ones. “I would give everything to run away with you!”

“What?” She was stunned. Had you truly just said that?

“I’m–I’m sorry,” you muttered, hands clasped over your mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Brienne stood slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. She rounded the table and took your hands from your mouth. “No,” she whispered. “I’m glad you said it.” Her thumbs wiped away your tears and she smiled before kissing you lightly on the lips. “But now, it’s made everything more painful, my darling.”

You stood in your bedchamber, the room bustling with maids preparing for the wedding ceremony. That was it. You’d never see Brienne again. She was down in the village, staying at a boarding house and waiting to hear the wedding bells ring.

With one last check from the maids, you were escorted to the sept. You waited behind closed doors, your heart pounding in your chest. You could do it. You could leave. But before you could make up your mind, the music in the hall was starting, and the doors were opening.

You walked down the aisle, making sure the bouquet hid your trembling hands. The man you were to marry stood beside the Septon, his hands folded in front of him and his lips in a straight line. Guests stood in the pews, most of them having never met you before. If only Brienne were here. No. Perhaps it was a good thing she wasn’t here. It saved her the suffering of having to watch you be married off to a practical stranger.

Climbing the stairs, the man grabbed your hand to assist you–it felt nothing like Brienne’s. You flashed him a smile, mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him. The pair of you stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, and the Septon began.

As he spoke, your mind drifted elsewhere–to the night on the ship, to Brienne’s lips on yours, to her hands holding your body flush against hers in bed, to her fingers touching every part of you, to the words of ardor that you both spoke in the heated hours of the night. You couldn’t live without this woman.

You were drawn back into the moment by your name. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take this man to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love, obey, and worship him? For richer, for poorer? In sickness and in health?”

Your mouth opened, but no words escaped. Brienne. Her arms holding you close. Her light kisses across your bare skin. Her kindness. Her empathy. Her loyalty. Her capacity for love despite experiencing everything that she had. All you could think about was Brienne.

Your mouth opens again and you look between the Septon and the man who held your hand. “I–I…don’t.” Gasps could be heard around the room. “I’m sorry…I can’t..I…”

Not knowing what to say but knowing that, after this, nothing will be pretty, you dropped the bouquet of flowers, turned, and ran. Down the aisle, out of the Sept, running through the crowd that stood waiting outside, you didn’t stop. Your dress skirt was bunched up in your fists and onlookers watched in shock as you flew past in search of Brienne.

You finally made it to the boarding house she had told you she was staying in.

“Morning, day, or night, I’ll be here for you.”

Bursting through the door, you go up to the counter, asking for her room number, and when he gives it to you, the keeper gives you a funny look as you hurry up the stairs. Without hesitation, you knock on the door, hoping and praying that she wasn’t out. When the door opened, you threw yourself around her neck, pressing your lips to hers.

Brienne pulled you in and shut the door. Between kisses, you sobbed out, “I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t leave you! I couldn’t!”

She kisses you hard and holds you in her arms, hand cradling your head. “I know…Everything will be okay. We’ll leave. We’ll go far away where they can’t get you. We’ll live, and we’ll be happy.”

Happy.

Nothing would be the same now. But, at the thought of being with Brienne for the rest of your days, any war would be worth fighting.

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #game of thrones #oneshot #angst

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

i have a request!

maybe one where steve knows he's bisexual before eddie but ofc, eddie thinks he's straight and doesn't think he has a chance, so he just takes whatever he can get with steve's friendship even though he has the biggest crush on steve and vice versa. but when eddie does find out about both, eddie would be internally screaming bc he could have been in a relationship with him and kissing steve ages ago.

i just love gay disaster eddie and confident bisexual steve haha

THANK YOU FOR THIS!!! This one could genuinely be a multi-chapter fic, so if someone has the time, I would love LOVE LOVE to read that. For now, here's a taste of something that kind of checks all the boxes mentioned but at superspeed. If I could write a 20k fic on it, it probably would have A LOT more pining first. I'm a sucker for pining. I hope you love this little thing! - Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------------------------

Steve was giving off vibes, okay?

Like, major ones.

And Eddie was convinced he was imagining it or just trying to convince himself that something existed where it didn’t to make his chances higher.

When Robin came out, a small part of him believed that Steve had to be at least a little queer. Men didn’t just accept being turned down by someone they liked when they turned out to be a big old lesbian.

But when he casually asked Robin if Steve had ever been so inclined towards the same sex, she laughed hysterically and said Steve was as straight as they came, that she’d never met anyone as straight as him, and that she’d probably end up with a man before he did.

So he let it go.

But then he said stuff sometimes about actors or singers that just left Eddie’s brain a big pile of question marks.

Maybe Eddie just didn’t know how straight dudes talked about other dudes?

So he let that go too.

And then Steve was genuinely checking out a guy at the public pool. There was no other explanation for the way his eyes focused in on his ass and worked their way up his body, a nod of silent approval hidden to all but Eddie.

But he did the same exact thing to Robin when she came out of the changing room, and while he knew he had feelings for her a while ago, they were long gone.

“What was that all about?” Eddie gave in and asked when everyone else started walking to the steps to get in.

“What?”

“Checking Robin out.”

“What the hell? I wasn’t checking her out! I was making sure her bathing suit fit right. One of the things they taught in lifeguard classes was that a too big or too small bathing suit can kill you.”

“So you were just making sure it fit?”

“Yeah. I don’t want her to drown.”

Eddie sighed.

But he let it go.

He stopped hoping for the chance to be more than friends. He was fine with just being friends. More than fine. Great.

He got to enjoy having Steve as a friend.

He didn’t half ass anything.

If he said he was gonna hang out, he was ready to commit the entire day to making sure you had his attention.

If he had everyone over at his house for movie night, he had everyone’s favorite snacks ready to go.

If he was gonna join Eddie at the quarry and smoke and look at the stars, he was gonna do it while making Eddie fall in love with him.

It wasn’t fair.

But he tried to let it go.

It was one of those nights that he found out he didn’t have to let it go.

“You ever just wonder how you could have ever thought you were a different person?”

What? Okay, Steve was high. Past the silly kind and right into the too existential to make sense kind.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re sayin’, man.”

Steve giggled.

God, Eddie was fucking done for.

“It’s just that I thought I was straight for 17 years of my life. And then spent another two years trying to convince myself that I couldn’t be anything but straight. And then life smacked me with Robin and now you and it didn’t really leave me much room to argue.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, I’ve had a crush on you since. Well, definitely since you held a bottle to my throat, but probably before that. Like, way before that. Maybe your first senior year.”

Steve was high. He didn’t mean what he was saying, and even if somehow he did, it wasn’t fair to hold him to it. Being high was sometimes like being drunk: the words may be true, but the feelings may not stick around.

So Eddie took a deep breath, bit back the tears he could feel clinging to his eyes and the burn in his throat, and forced himself to change the subject.

It wasn’t fair, but when Steve let him change the subject easily, he let it go.

————-

It took three weeks for him to break.

He was with Steve at his house, waiting for the kids to show up for movie night. Steve was busy preparing homemade pizza because he thrived on being able to cook for everyone.

Eddie loved him so much.

He was staring. He knew he was.

But how could he not when Steve was in that stupid “Number One Dad” apron that Max got him last Christmas as a joke, but he’d sniffled and said thank you like it was the best gift he got in the world?

Steve was humming something, sliding the last pizza into the oven (pineapple and ham for El, Will, and Mike), when it all seemed to hit him.

Steve had come out to him, had admitted out loud that he wasn’t straight and that he’d had a crush on him for a long time.

Sure, he was high when he did, but he’d been high with Eddie lots of times and never given away any top secret personal information like that.

He’d wanted Eddie to make a move.

He was so stupid.

He stood abruptly, nearly banging his knee against the bar in the kitchen.

Steve looked over at him, brows furrowed in concern, lips pouting out unintentionally.

Eddie stalked over to him, not bothering to explain his theatrics. At this point, Steve should be used to them.

He stopped right in front of him, looking down at the suddenly nervous way Steve was holding himself.

He wasn’t letting it go this time.

He sure as shit wasn’t running. He didn’t do that anymore.

“You remember the quarry?”

“Like, in general…or…?”

“A few weeks ago you said something at the quarry.”

“Oh.” Steve looked down at the floor between them. “Yeah. It’s okay that you don’t feel the same. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

There was no fucking way Eddie was letting him think he didn’t want him back.

He gripped his cheeks in his hands, palms tilting his face up so he could look into his eyes.

Steve was biting his lip so hard, it looked like it could start bleeding any moment.

Eddie brought his thumb over, pulling his lip from his teeth.

“How can I kiss you if you’re too busy eating your lip?”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“Stevie. Did you mean it then?”

“Yeah, ‘course I did. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Then I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

Eddie wouldn’t let that go to his head. Not yet.

“Can I kiss you?”

Steve’s responding smile lit up the room, more than the overhead lights, more than the actual sunlight streaming through the window.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Eddie leaned in as Steve did, their lips meeting in a light peck that quickly deepened, moans escaping their mouths at the same moment.

He let his hands slide down to Steve’s neck, his thumbs rubbing small circles as his tongue begged for entrance into his mouth.

Steve was sinking further against him, his heartbeat steady against Eddie’s chest.

“It’s about damn time. Honestly, I was starting to think I’d have to make Steve come out to you again.”

Robin’s voice shocked them apart, but when they realized who it was, they managed to fall back into each other.

Eddie’s arm slipped around Steve’s waist as Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“The kids will be inside in about 20 seconds so if you would prefer they don’t know what’s going on, you should wipe those lovesick looks off your faces and find a bubble of personal space.”

Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head before pulling away.

“Talk when the kids leave?”

“Yeah. But first,” Steve pulled Eddie in for one more quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled away, he was smirking. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

“I don’t plan on letting you out of bed for the next 24 hours after the kids leave. We’ll at least get a good start on the catching up.”

Eddie threw a wink at Steve, ignoring Robin’s gagging noises, and sat back at the bar.

The kids came running in, circling Steve to hug him or ask him what dinner was and Eddie smiled to himself.

Robin nudged him after a few seconds.

“You’re both so hopeless.”

“Not anymore.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #coming out is sort of accidental but not really #like steve is high when he says it but would have told eddie anyway #mutual pining though this is all from eddie's POV #which is weird for me so hopefully it's okay #anon requests #requests #ficlet

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yourantag · 1 year

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Of Vices and Virtues (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: In which I go insane and finally succumb to the urge to write an unhealthy relationship instead of a nice, safe, and sane one. Also, to the people who were waiting for this fic, I am so sorry for the wait. I kept on forgetting it existed and also kept doubting myself since this is pretty different from what I usually do. Hope you enjoy it, even if it isn't the best! Word count: 2.7k words TW: Blood, violence, general insanity, and unhealthy relationships. Summary: You've always seen things others couldn't. When you met him, you were enamored by his unique nature. Perhaps you should have taken it as a warning. Perhaps, you should have ran. Instead, you drew closer.

It all started years ago when things were simpler. You were a child, and so was he. He was someone who bore the face of the future king, the Lord of Babel, the sun of the kingdom. You? You were just a simple peasant. No one noteworthy, not in appearance, personality, or skill. How could you be? You were a child.

Yet, when your paths crossed, it immediately changed you two. Your futures, your destinies which never should have merged, crashed together. The moment your eyes met his, it was over. You could never be normal again. After all, how could a mortal stay sane in the presence of a God?

He was your beginning, and surely he would be your end.

The lady who lived in the forest was odd, but kind. She would give you and your family medicine, never asking for anything in return. You didn't think that was very fair, so you gave her flowers. The prettiest ones you could find in the wild, hidden within the crevices of gnarled roots and heavy bushes.

You liked her quite well, which your parents found surprising. You never seemed to like most adults. They all brushed it off as shyness, laughing heartily as you scampered away.

It wasn't quite that, though.

The way you gazed at people with distrust was never on unfounded grounds. Children, for however random and silly adults believe them to be, are far too perceptive for their own goods.

You've always seen things others couldn't see. You knew not to tell, especially when the curling shadows at those peoples feet hissed and snarled silently. It was a warning, seething quietly around the liars with masks. You learned quickly that they were not people to be trusted.

The problem was, most adults held such secrets with them. Their perfect disguises of the kind neighbor and good samaritan were nothing before your eyes. Their performances of being righteous and pure sickened you. It churned your guts and set alight a blaze of fury inside you that you didn't understand.

You couldn't stand it, so you chose to run.

Thankfully, with her, it was never like that. She had the aura of what you think angels would have. It was warm, gentle, and bright, like a bonfire on a cold winter night. It made you feel comfortable, it made you feel safe. Honestly, you sometimes wished she were your mother so you could bask in her presence forever.

Of course, that is not the case, and you like your parents well. They had no roaring shadows, just a light brush of soothing sunlight. It was sweet and inoffensive, just a whisper of heat and kind words. That, too, you appreciated.

It was why you listened to them well, doing your best to be a good child for them. When they asked you for help, you were always up to the challenge. You'd smile brightly, determination glistening within your eyes and your heart set on fulfilling your mission.

Today was one such day, leading you to a cottage in the woods. Your parents requested that you gave the lady of the forest a package. The task felt more like a blessing than a burden. You got to help your parents and see one of your favorite people in the world! How could you not be happy?

Standing before the worn alder door, you carefully shift your bag as you knock. You rock back and forth, humming cheerfully as you wait for her to answer. The sounds of shuffling footsteps can be heard behind the door, making you smile.

When it opens, your smile slips as you stare blankly. Before your eyes stands not your favorite person in the world, but a child. He has wispy, light blond hair, so light it's white. His eyes are like charcoal, both dark and burning as he stares holes into you. It's half a glare and half a stare, more of a glare, really.

For a few moments, you're stunned. Not really at the fact that the lady had a child you never knew, but at the darkness and light that surround him in equal parts.

Children never had such prominent representations of good or evil on them, having been born with a neutral conscience. They were surrounded by barely flickering echoes of right and wrong, never quite lasting.

Yet, here he was, a child with both virtue and vice wrapped tightly around him. It intrigues you, beckoning you forward like a siren's call.

Before you know it, you've taken his face in your hands and tilted it to look closer. At what, you're not quite sure. All you do is drink in his features like a man starved, staring at him with such intensity you'd feel embarrassed if you were clear headed.

You expect him to fight back once you realize what you've done, but all he does is stare back with equal intensity, challenging you. It makes you smile, an odd feeling of pride and a desire to crush that will of his coming from the depths of your heart. It makes you pause in surprise, letting go of his face and stepping back.

"I'm sorry." You say, fiddling with the straps of your bag as you look away. It was rather unlike you to act this way, or to have such a violent thought. You shook your head to clear them of such things.

"Why are you here?" He asks harshly, ignoring your apology. You accept that considering you were quite rude to him.

"I'm here to deliver a package to the nice lady. Is she home?" You look over his shoulder for any hint of her. He blocks your view, his glare intensifying. He looks like he's about to say no when a familiar voice cuts him off.

"Ah! You shouldn't be here!"

You can't tell if she's referring to you or him. In a few minutes, she's taken you inside the house and given you snacks. The boy pouts as the lady of the forest scolds him, warning him not to open the door to strangers.

You chew on a cookie as you continue to stare at the warped shapes of his soul shift around him. It's warmer now, brighter. It's sentient and alive, happily glowing in the presence of the nice lady. You can't blame him, you like her a lot too.

At the same time, you can't help but wonder what it'll take for his shadows to devour the light.

You calmly give the lady the package and thank her for the snacks, brushing crumbs off your hands. She pats you, causing you to smile as you relish in the gentle touch. She tells you to come again, to play with her son. You don't think he'd like to, but you're willing to try.

With a wave and a smile, you're off. You ignore the no longer hostile stare that follows you out.

Seeing as you're no liar, you meet him again. You keep your promise to visit, and thus a tender friendship begins. The boy is surprisingly nice at times. He's simultaneously so ordinary, yet unusual.

He smiles when you trip, but he always helps you up. He hides your things, but always ends up telling you where they are. He says rather mean things, but his actions never match his words.

He's weird, but you like him. Unlike the others your age, he's quite interesting. The shared soft spot you both have for his mother certainly helps, and before you know it, you're friends.

"Why don't you ever leave the forest?" You ask one day, pulling weeds out of the garden. His mother's garden was in need of some help, so you decided to work on it with the boy. He diligently works, even though he hates the sunlight.

"Mother says I shouldn't be seen by others. You're okay, though." You accept the answer easily. You figured that was the case, anyway.

After the official debut of the future king, a prince around your age, you realized a lot more things than you thought you would. You're sure his mother knows you know, but neither of you mention it. For you, it's none of your business. For her, it's a secret she must take to her grave.

You're quite good at keeping secrets. You're sure she knows that, too. You also know her secrets will one day consume her whole, however. They always do.

You wonder how he'll react that day.

Ever since you met the lady of the forest, red became your favorite color. It's the color of her hair, of the ladybugs in her garden, and of the tiles on your house's roof. It's a sweet color, one of pure and good memories.

That changes the day you turn of age.

You watch in horror as she's brought before a cheering crowd, a spectacle for people to watch. He's next to you, his face covered and a cloak hiding his hair. His eyes shake as he stares at the cruel stage, the start of a scene he'd never want to see showing right before his eyes.

Her chains jingle like cruel church bells, hair a tangled mess as she's dragged across the crude boards of the stage. Splinters stab at her feet, fresh wounds and old ones bleeding red as she's roughly slammed into a wooden contraption. She gasps in pain as they lock it in place, the final Wham! of the wood marking the end of her judgment.

You both look on in stunned shock as the blade whistles down at the call of a man- a man who shares the same face as him. Time seems to slow as her eyes meet yours, silently, desperately, asking for help. Help you cannot give. Help you wish you could give.

Your heart screams as it is forced to face how powerless you are. It squeezes and squeezes as if someone were clutching it in their hand, hoping to inflict as much pain on you as possible while you are hopelessly, miserably left alive despite it.

The man's shadow laughs as the guillotine cuts off her life, destroying the warmth of her soul and putting it out. Like a lit candle in the wind, she's extinguished. She's gone.

The once comforting red of her hair is tainted by the ruthless sight of her blood painting the stage.

You vaguely think you hear something shatter, perhaps something inside of you or somewhere around you. You turn to look at him, your hands trembling, when you see it.

It seems to destroy light itself, yet hold it all the same. A black hole that displaces the refraction of light, like darkness that shines bright, it breaks free from the chains of what is perhaps the last of his humanity.

Perhaps it's the last of his sanity.

Glancing down at your own shadow, you laugh quietly as tears slip down your face. It's carried away by the cheers of the crowd and the deafening applause, going unheard. An unnatural smile stretches your face as you turn your head up to the sky.

If his darkness has light, your light holds darkness. With it, you'd both destroy everything that dared make you this way.

"I'll kill them, I'll kill them, I'll kill them." He's trembling in your arms, his body barely able to contain all his emotions. His rage, his sorrow, his pain, his tears, everything, it seems to pour out of him. You can only rub your hand comfortingly in circles on his back, eyes blank as you stare lifelessly at the wall.

He was suppressing himself as his feelings lashed out. You, however, were eerily empty.

You felt nothing, yet everything. It was like all your emotions had been tossed away, as though they'd never been there before. In its place, a cold, cruel rationality took over your mind. It plotted, it schemed, and it had only one goal.

To destroy.

"You will." You tell him. "We will."

It's a promise, and you don't break promises.

The sound of rumbling stones greets you in a familiar cacophony of noise. You revel in it, watching the statue's face fall and crumble. He stands before you now, so different from the sweet boy he was back then. That's partially your fault, admittedly.

You held him that day, when the world had fallen apart. You'd promised him justice, you promised him peace. You promised him the world and everything in it, because that was what he deserved. He deserved it so he could ruin it, since really, did anything matter anymore? When she was gone, she died, you'd never see her alive, you couldn't understand why-

You sighed, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the area. It doesn't matter now. You'd found your peace. You'd gotten your revenge.

Turning your gaze to the figure before the desecrated statue, you smile widely. He does the same, spreading out his arms as he laughs maniacally. He, too, had gained his vengeance.

"The tower shall fall, and new lies will be treated as the word of god. The morning star is the true king!" He sweeps the air in front of him, hand outstretched to you. You step forward, placing a hand in his. His grin seems to grow wider at that, his grip becoming more firm as he pulls you into his arms.

"And you, my evening dawn, will stand by my side. We'll rule the greedy, the disloyal, and the unworthy. The dogs in crowns will remain at our feet, and it will not matter who stands before us." He laughs as he bites your neck, hard enough to draw blood. You only laugh in return, the pain as sweet as the taste of power.

His hair, now pure white like the feathers on a dove, glows in the brilliant light of the sun. His eyes, once a beautifully deep onyx, are like translucent opal. The red you once grew to hate, tainted by blood, is made again your favorite color. It drapes him from head to toe in majesty, deeming him a true god amongst men.

He pulls you up into a kiss, his lips tasting of your blood and dust. The taste of your own blood upon your tongue makes you laugh. Anything is sweet when it comes from him, from his lips, even the underlying tastes of iron and danger, the possessive curling of his claws.

When you finally draw away from each other, your faces are flushed. You both pant lightly, giggling like school children as you hold each other close. His hold speaks of love, of desire, of a feeling so encapsulating, so damning, he'd rather kill you than let you leave his side.

His shadow says so much more.

It curls around your own, protecting it, stealing it, tugging and holding it like it wants to merge with yours. The darkness tries to devour your light, but it's only a pointless cycle where one cannot destroy the other. They're two sides of the same coin, cultivated into a writhing mass of what you're sure anyone else would claim to be insanity.

You hum in joy, resting your forehead against his chest. He needs you as desperately as you need him. He'll never leave you, and you could never leave him. No one could ever take you away from each other.

"You're all I have." He tenderly murmurs, dragging a claw down your spine. You shiver as you look up at him, smiling. "And I am all you have."

"I love you. Only two things will ever have me, and it'll be you and death." You respond, meaning every word. He knows as well as you do that you mean it, and he rewards you with another kiss. It's sweeter than the last, an addicting pull that makes you yearn for more. More and more and more, until you suffocate.

You'll treasure him for the rest of your life. He's your precious partner, isn't he? You should hold him close and treat him right. Isn't that what they taught you?

You smile, something akin to a nightmare, as you turn. He stands by your side as you saunter over to the gilded cage, the traitors shaking within.

"What do you think, mother, father?"

He was your beginning, and he will be your end.

Tag List

@ithaquakisser, @xiaosmary

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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chanstasy · 2 years

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ㅤㅤㅤ THE 12 STAGES OF GETTING CORRUPTED BY LEE MINHO.

PAIRING lee minho x female!reader. (ft. hwang hyunjin). CONTENT smut, pwp, dance partners!au, virgin!reader, fuckboy!minho, corruption!au. LENGTH +20k. WARNINGS unprotected sex, mentions of anxiety, consume of alcohol, possesive beahivour, jealousy, angsty scenes. NOTE my first plotted fic is finally here. i had the chance to experiment with my writing, and it resulted in this beautiful piece. i know you'll love it, please treat it well. now it's all yours !

TAGLIST ( ! ) @lixhours @vikcore @rdflare51 @tanyas97 @hyunlava @jerrykarrot @lomllino @hoes4lino @102598s @svrcoline @softie00 @velspa @goldenrvitaes @ryumayray @iliana26 @josefines-things @miumuam @raspbinniecreme @ladybaudelaire @wannabekriss @llinojin @theangelsangmetosleep @seobinniesshi @linobluved ― thanks to everyone that asked to be tagged ♡

ㅤㅤㅤ© erotichan 2022. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.

DISCLAIMER ( ! ) this is not intended to promote unprotected sexual practices or the security of not getting pregnant/not contracting STD. please don't take this as your comprehensive sex education. all facts and events are fictitious. the written scenes do not represent any real person nor do they plan to steal/falsify their identity. any coincidence with names and places is pure artistic creation by and for entertainment.

If there’s one person you never thought you’d have your first time with, it's Lee Minho.

Everything you know about his life has been discovered against your will, and you have to say you know him all too well. You have been training as dancers since you were children and have gone through not only puberty, but also adulthood together. Sounds cute, doesn’t it? Yes, bullshit. Having grown up with the same social circles meant finding out about each of his relationships and adventures that you could never care less about, while he never heard the slightest anecdote coming from you.

Minho knows that today, having the same age and practically the same life as him, you are a total novice and inexperienced chick in absolutely everything. The issue here is that you two are not friends. You were convinced that it would stay that way until the last of your days, however, your relationship took a resounding twist the moment you got into your coach’s van.

STAGE 01: THE ASSEMBLING.

The day you parted towards the annual competition city started as normal as any day next to Minho could start. Both of you got into that van with a common destiny, but with interests as different as the seats you choose. While you sat in the back next to the academy junior, Hwang Hyunjin, he sat in the front ― and he didn’t take his eyes off the rearview mirror.

It’s a bit confusing to explain how it all started for Minho. He has had his eyes on you quite since you became teenagers. It was fair at first, you had stopped being a little girl and your physical appearance caught his attention. It got personal as the years went by and you didn’t show any kind of interest in the change he had made. You weren’t impressed by his good looks, by his personality, by his popularity, anything. The fact that you didn’t pay attention to him like the rest turned him so curious, it aroused a curiosity that morphed into a kind of obsession with having your eyes on him.

That being said, the routine developed with a fluid rhythm the first few days. You traveled, settled in the assigned rooms, shared your meals as a team, practiced, and ended up in the current situation. Searching for relaxation.

It took you three days to find out that there was a jacuzzi in the hotel, unlike Minho who made good use of it since arriving. The dark, humid night made it a bit difficult for him to differentiate the figure he found submerged in the water. Once he got close enough he recognized no one other than you. His muscles were atrophied, they got even more tensed from remembering how tight the air had felt to him throughout those endless traveling hours days ago. There you were, so quiet and calm unlike that trip where the only thing he heard over the coach’s old-fashioned choice of music was your laughter after the cheeky flirting attempts coming from the younger guy.

And there you were too, not knowing that only minutes separated you from making the biggest mistake you had ever made.

"Can we share?", Minho asks, leaning over the edge of the hot tub. His voice appears so sudden that it scares you.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him before answering. Nevertheless, he doesn't wait for your approval to dive to the other side. "You're already diving in," you point out the obvious.

"I know, I just didn't want to lose my manners".

You watch askance, he settles in with a small groan of satisfaction. Your arms surround your figure, holding yourself in place. It's not easy to hide how weird you feel with Minho's presence alone. It's not awkward, it's just a weird feeling that you would have had with any other guy.

Minho analyzes your reaction and draws his own conclusions from that strange expression on your face. With a chuckle, he confronts you as brazenly as he usually does. "I don't work out 4 hours a day for you to be disgusted at seeing me shirtless".

His comment makes you aware of how tight your features are, and you relax them. You must have looked so impolite. "Sorry, this is a bit strange".

"Why? Would it be just as weird if Hyunjin joined us?”

Your features contract again. Minho laughs, he got exactly what he expected.

“Just kidding”, he smiles. “I didn't know that Hyunjin and you were so close. I never see you talking in dance classes”.

The accusation turns you as confused as you can be. Still, you don't mind clearing things up. "We are friends. We usually talk outside class”.

He nods. "I see".

The hot water invites him to cup his hands to take a small amount and wet his dry neck. The drops fall along his collarbones, down his chest, and you realize your eyes are following them when they reach his pectorals.

“How about the rest of your friends? I haven't heard from them in a long time”, Minho interrupts your inspection.

Your eyes instantly flip to his. Your eyelashes give away the movement, and that's why you don't hesitate to respond with a little suddenness to hide it. A bit of irony, rather. “What do you mean you haven't heard from my friends? How odd. I thought you were popular with everyone”.

There's Minho's laugh again. You can vibrate in the same tune if you put your mind to it, and that seems hilarious to him. “Nevermind. I already remembered why I can't have a serious conversation with you".

"Because you don’t try it. You only say stupid things that make me uncomfortable”.

Minho arches one of his eyebrows. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Your question is tricky. Minho stretches his legs out on purpose, moving closer to you without being so obvious. You feel the closeness of his limbs and shrink in place. Your actions are a little bit demonstrative.

"No", you still whisper. "It's just that you and I aren't that close but you act like we were".

"What are you talking about? We've known each other since we were kids".

"That's why. You're still acting just as immature".

The laughter doesn't stop on Minho's part, and you still can't figure out what's so funny. Your body gets smaller and smaller, and he gets more and more comfortable. "Why are you so mean to me?"

"I'm not mean. I just don't like getting involved in these… type of situations… with you”.

He mirrors the confused expression on his own face, but the smile doesn't fade. He’s excited about knowing what your acting is about because it means he'll understand how you see him. With no second thought, he fires off his next accusation of the night. “Why? Are you afraid someone thinks we're close?"

The way his lips pout tickles your insides, in a bad way. Minho can look so arrogant even when he doesn't mean to.

You look around, making it more than clear that his words are true.

“It's nothing personal, Minho. You have a terrible reputation with girls".

“And what? That doesn't mean I'm―”.

“A whore?”

“No―”.

You giggle at your own insinuation. You don't even know where that came from. "I'm sorry", you drop your head down. "Judging someone by their body counts it's too old fashioned".

Minho won't let you pass it by, clearly. “You just said I was a whore”.

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like answering like you do”.

Thoughts mix inside Minho's head. There is something interfering with his initial purpose of getting your attention that leads him to be brusquely honest. The corner of his mouth lifts, but this time he doesn't laugh. No, he doesn't find what he's about to say funny. It is wonderful to him as if it were a discovery.

“I knew you were kind of a weirdo, but, now I get why you haven’t been laid on yet”.

Your eyelids fail to close smoothly, your blinks are literally jerky with how brazen and shameless what you heard was. "Excuse me?"

The realization that Minho knows this information about you makes you feel insecure all of a sudden, and the way your brows rise gives it away.

“What the even fuck does that mean?”, you add.

Minho points his finger at you to explain himself. “It is obvious that you are the ideal type of many boys, but you have a very loose tongue for them to take advantage of you so easily”.

You really don't understand how the conversation got sidetracked here. Your parted lips show that you have no words. You don't know if you feel scared or disappointed by what you hear.

“Is that what you do with girls? Is that why you're so popular?"

Minho snorts. Your accusation bears some truth and he doesn’t care to deny it.

“Do I look like the type of person who engages in small talk? No girl has ever stopped to meet me".

Worry leaves your body like a cloud of smoke. You can't take seriously that little part of his speech that tries to hold some pity. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your hand to your chest. "Oh, poor thing".

Your teasing makes him laugh, but his attention is drawn to the water running down your chest at your hand gesture. Just as you did previously without him noticing, now he inspects how easy it will be to move on inside the talk. You, of course, advance.

"You fuck all the girls you want but none of them know about your traumas," you insinuate with heavy sarcasm, putting on the most tetchy expression of pity. "It must be really hard being you".

It's inevitable, Minho laughs out loud. Genuinely.

“I didn't remember you being so funny,” he confesses.

"I already told you. It's because you don't know as much about me as you make it seem".

Your response feels victorious, righteous enough to make it your last words. You decide to put an end to your relaxation session, and so you get up with the purpose of leaving. You scan the surroundings until you find the towel you brought for yourself. Minho imitates you, and just as you, he realizes that it’s behind him. He reaches out his arm and takes it.

What a gentleman, you wrongly think.

As soon as you hold out your hand thinking he'll give it to you, Minho moves the towel out of your reach. You stretch towards it by inertia, and you end up inevitably closer to him. Minho looks up to meet your gaze that tries to be hard on him but only makes him smile mischievously.

"Do you really think I don't know you that well?", he asks.

The question feels out of place given the clear outcoming of the scene that doesn't seem so clear to him. You don't even say a word, you just insist on taking the towel that doesn't reach your hand since Minho has other plans. He is too curious about the discussed topic to let it go.

“How can it not be hard for you?”, he insists. "Aren't you desperate to have something, anything?"

You know exactly what kind of thing he's referring to. You can't understand why the fuck you're talking about your inexperience with Lee Minho.

“Unlike some people, I do know how to control what I have between my legs”, you assure proudly.

You press your hand on the edge next to him so you don't lose your balance, and reach out trying to snatch the towel away from him. Obviously, you fail to do so. Minho throws the towel away and doesn't even give you time to judge his actions. His now-free hand slides up the back of your thigh, giving you the gentlest push to get you to lean into his body.

It all happens too fast, it takes you more than a second to process that his hands have settled you on his lap. Your eyes stay locked on his as if you're afraid to look at anything that's happening and accept that you're, in fact, straddling him.

The air becomes warm, tense. You've never experienced this kind of modesty, it's an embarrassment that leaves you frozen. The fabric of your swimsuit is a bit thinner than usual, and it makes you realize that you are much closer to Minho than you think. It’s so intimate that it becomes ridiculous. It doesn't make sense for you to be in this position, with this guy.

“What are you doing?”, you ask in a whisper.

Minho brings his arms back, he rests his elbows on the edge of the jacuzzi showing that he will not touch you without you approving the situation. Of course, he then answers your question hoping that it leads to that approval.

"I want you to try to control what you have between your legs now".

You could have laughed, but you don't. His request is so obscene, you know he's referring to his cock — you can feel the contact with your crotch so vividly. Your heartbeat accelerates, it makes you nervous to be aware that your cunt is reacting. The heat that runs through your body also runs between the middle of your legs and the pathetically correct angle at which you are sitting.

Minho doesn't want you to misunderstand his seemingly vulgar intentions, so he adds the second part of his proposal. "Or you can slap me for being a whore like you said, and walk away".

But no, strangely, you don't want to leave. You don't want to slap him. Why the hell don't you want to walk away and slap him? You should run away right now!

"Why would I slap you?", is the only thing that comes out of your mouth.

You swallow hard, your throat feels dry. Your eyes drop to Minho's shoulders, and your trembling hands follow the target to rest on top of them. Your fingers are cold from exposing your hands to the wind after pulling them out of the water, but Minho loves the feeling of them on his skin.

You have so many questions, so many doubts, and so many things that you could use as an explanation as to why you are not resisting. It's definitely not because you want to do anything with him, but having to develop such a statement and expect Minho to believe it would be wasting your breath.

You lower your head a little embarrassed, and look at the small bulge that forms in Minho's shorts below you. You just wanted the damn towel and now you're wondering what happens next. You look up, and once you meet his gaze, you decide to be honest about what you think.

"I don't know what you expect me to do, but I don't like you taking advantage of my inexperience".

Minho instantly denies with his head. "I'm not taking advantage of it. I'm giving you opportunities to make it disappear".

Oh, how thoughtful he is.

"That doesn't mean I want to take them, Minho".

He understands, he really does. But he also knows the general reactions enough to know that if nothing was holding you back, you wouldn't be sitting on him right now.

“Do you want to do it right now? The answer can only be yes, or no”.

"Of course I want to, but this feels weird", you admit, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "Doing it like this, without prior context... it's weird".

"It's not weird, it's the easy way", he contradicts with a click of his tongue. "Do you know why so many people explore their love and sex life in a loose and carefree way?"

No, if you knew the answer you wouldn't still be a virgin at this age.

You shake your head from side to side, and freeze as Minho reaches up to your face to give it to you. His lips remain just an inch away from yours, and his eyebrows make a quick wiggle that you can't even register when you hear his voice.

"Because they don't get tangled".

The air compressing your chest is released in the form of a sigh that hits Minho's mouth warmly. His eyes invite you to believe that he is an expert on the subject that you should trust. So, without even thinking about it for a fraction of a second, you press your lips to his to test what he said.

"People just do that?", you question, almost disoriented. Your words are airy. “Without any kind of feeling or explanation?”

Minho brings his hands to your sides, acknowledging the green light. His fingers cushion your hips, subtly nudging them to press against his.

"No, actually there is a feeling”, he clarifies. "It's called lust".

“Lust?”, you repeat the word.

"Do you know what lust is?"

Of course you know, but somehow you're ashamed to admit it, and that's why your body speaks for you. The way your skin gets covered in goosebumps, your breathing becomes even heavier, and the tremor in your hips as you feel the friction in your cunt form the answer to his question.

You swallow again, conditioned by your obvious nerves. "I get an idea of what it is".

Minh smiles. His tongue slides between his lips as he licks them, leaving you plenty of room for you to imagine what he can do with it. The pressure in his hands increases, you move your hips closer to his on purpose.

"Well, let me clear the picture for you", is the last combo of words that gets exchanged between the two.

His moist lips meet yours in a juicily. It doesn't feel wrong as it should, in fact, it awakens within you a curiosity of wanting more. Your mouth follows the movements of his until you manage to find a comfortable path. Your bottom lip gets sucked on briefly, leaving you stunned and elated at the same time. How is it possible that such a small action can make you feel heat between your legs?

Your restlessness encourages Minho to limit your hips, and not only that, but to give them the movement he wants. He drags them back and forth and ignites that sparkling contact between your wet folds. The swimsuit is so suitable for this. The way both bodies achieve friction surprises you, you didn’t know that it was so easy and effective when it comes to getting turned on. You always doubted how someone could get wet so quickly before having sex, and now you understand it; your body reacts to what it has to react to with the right person.

Suddenly, your thoughts get interrupted by his lips’ absence. It works to catch your breath but it shakes you off just as quickly — Minho's mouth reaches your neck with no warning. Your eyes don't open, they press almost as hard as his fingers dig into your waist.

Minho definitely enjoys this more than you, he did want it beforehand.

You feel something strange in the area he’s kissing, something that makes you tilt your head to the opposite side. It's wet, it's ticklish, it's warm. The erotic sound you hear when you feel all that disappear makes you understand that he has released a suction on your skin. You don't know exactly how to react, however, you don't have time to do it. His palms climb up your back and push you gently to draw you to his face again. And your lips meet again.

Damn, your mouths can’t stop meeting between breath and breath.

Not sooner had you registered how hot your blood is pumping through your veins than you registered the entry of Minho's tongue into your mouth. You allow it, and you follow it. It's a new sensation and interestingly not as grotesque as you imagined. It's not as disastrous as it should be. The only disaster is your arousal’s moisture lubricating your insides. You are so aware of his pressing cock under you that you ignore the effect it’s having on your own sex. You're sure Minho isn't physically able to control his erection, but you know he's aware of it as well.

You press down on his shoulders so firmly that you dig your nails into his back, and push yourself away from his mouth. You move those inches away from his face with a sigh that feels as if you've let him suck your soul out. You make eye contact with him, but you quickly avoid it.

"Sorry, I, I don't know what the hell I'm doing".

Your honesty is joined by a short shake of your head. Minho tries to process your reaction, realizing that you're regretting humoring him. He silently surveys you, and he brings his hand up to your chin for you to look back at him.

“You good?”, he asks, hoping you'll pick up where you were.

But you don't. No, you're not as ready for this as you wanted to make it seem.

"Yes, but I don't know what I'm doing”, you repeat.

You sigh a second time, and taking advantage of the hold you still have on his shoulders, you push yourself up. Minho's arms scrabble from your figure as you rise, then fall to his sides when you finally decide to climb out of the hot tub. He just watches you, accepting that you will vanish like fog. His head follows your movements and the way the water trickles down your legs. You grab the towel that conflictingly started it all, and don't even bother to cover more than your nether so you can pull away without feeling like his eyes are piercing through your butt — even though they are.

A frustrated sigh slips past Minho's chapped lips. His elbows stretch out over the edge, making himself comfortable once more. The images of the recent sequence repeat in his head and cause him to let out a small chuckle. He ducks his head at the sound, shaking it from side to side in disbelief at what just happened.

His thumb flies to his bottom lip, and he slides it along it as if he can collect your essence from them. He lets his tongue peek between them, and licks to savor every last trace of you. He lifts his head and looks in the direction you left just to whisper to himself.

"You can come back when you know it, though".

02, 03. THE AWKWARDNESS AND THE CONFRONTATION.

You have felt uncomfortable after a strange situation with someone repeatedly throughout your life, but this is totally different.

Not a single word has been exchanged between you and Minho since both entered the practice room, none other than 'play the song'. It’s a very inopportune situation to have a number together for this dance competition. Luckily for you, Minho is too professional and competitive to ruin everything, but of course, he's also too cunning and quick to gain control. His eyes don’t detach from your smallest movements and gestures that only confirm how tense you are compared to the practices prior to the peculiar encounter that you had.

The song's bridge choreography forces him to come up behind you and take your right hand, and you feel more invaded than ever. You have never felt invaded by a choreography. It's false, it's an interpretation, it shouldn't make you nervous but it does. Minho's hand on your waist makes you nervous. His eyes search yours on purpose, they realize something is holding you back from giving your best as usual.

His mouth is right next to your ear, he whispers into it. "Why are you so tense?"

The deep, accusatory voice makes you duck your head as if you've been tickled. Memories of Minho's lips near that same area whip through your brain. It's so hard to hide.

"Sorry", you apologize for messing up the dance. "I'm just a little uncomfortable right now".

You let go of the hand you're holding, leaving his fingers uselessly hanging in the air. You tuck your hair behind your ears and release the pressed air in your chest to try following the beats again. The song keeps playing.

Minho sees the situation as an offer to find out if what happened was a one-time thing, or if it could lengthen. You, with your head down to see your feet, resume your grip on his hand without even seeing what you're doing. He watches your fingers and the delicate way they rest on his palm, he can only think of how brusquely they pressed into his shoulders while he had you on top of him.

His free hand goes back to your waist despite the choreography no longer demanding it. You notice his movements don’t match the song, and consequently raise your head. There it is his whispering again.

“You're uncomfortable?”

He questions it as if the option of being distressed about being intimate with him is possible. Unfortunately for his ego, it is.

“Yes, Minho. I'm not the best at pretending that I'm not bothered by making out with you and then having to dance like it's nothing".

He smiles. He likes that you talk back and don't just stay silent staring at him like a fool.

“It was just a couple of kisses”, he reminds you of the scenes. His hand presses against your side emphasizing the next words that come out of his filthy mouth. "It's not like I fucked you in front of the entire hotel".

Your eyes close. The images created by his supposition are so obscene, they even make you shy. Just thinking that you could have undressed, you could have allowed him to touch you, you could have let him explore your body and do whatever he wanted with you makes your hair stand on end. He chuckles, the scene reflected in the mirror is funny to see.

"Just pretend it never happened, (name)", he suggests, hinting something more appropriate for the moment. "It didn't mean anything to you, did it?"

You raise your head and look at Minho's face instead of looking at his reflection. You want to confront him and give him that long, boring explanation you were supposed to give before agreeing to kiss him ― but you don't. He arches an eyebrow at you at the intense eye contact, then lowers his gaze to your lips.

“We all had one traumatic and impulsive make out session once”, he assures as if he were totally convinced of it. “You are not the only one who will learn to deal with the memory”.

There’s something inside you that urges you to argue with him. You squeeze his hand in yours as if that's the impulse to give an answer ― words hanging from the tip of your tongue that only get stuck in your throat when the studio door is opened.

“My so obedient dancers”, interrupts that familiar male voice out of nowhere.

Looking over Minho's shoulder, the coach’s figure makes its appearance. He sees him walking in through the reflection, and you back away with small steps so as not to make the situation any weirder than it already is. You try to loosen your hold on his hands, but Minho doesn’t.

“Practicing hard without being asked”, adds the coach as you realize that Minho won't let go of you.

It wouldn't be a big deal considering the man in front of you sees you playing pieces that require physical contact all the time, however, he's not the only person walking through that door. Seconds separate his entrance from Hyunjin's, who sets his eyes directly on your joined hands. You gulp, worried about how the scene is displayed and how you'll perform in front of the two observers.

Minho makes eye contact with the younger man through the mirror, the smirk that spreads across his lips is evil. He licks them to sneak the gesture up, even though it's obvious that he's pleased with what he put on display so effortlessly. He is one step ahead of Hyunjin for the first time, and he knows it.

And you? You know that you got into this problem on your own without thinking about how it would affect you. And the worst part is that it’s barely starting.

04. THE DESIRE.

But not any desire, a desperate man’s desire.

Minho has felt this way before. He knows that feeling so well that he can decipher exactly what is happening to him. And that makes him sick, because it makes him feel weak. How could a few minutes of your taste become poison to him?

He can't stop thinking about you. About your body, your skin.

The dark, gloomy ceiling of the hotel room gives him plenty of room to return to that night. He only sees you, your hands, your thighs, your chest. He can only picture the way the water trickled down your legs when you got up, the drops wetting your back. His head is full of your hips grinding on top of his. He feels so dirty, so perverted. He closes his eyes in search of falling asleep once and for all, and all he sees is the multiple outcomes that the moment would have had if you hadn’t backed up. He sees himself removing that tiny swimsuit. He sees his lips kissing your chest, making you whimper. He sees you begging for more and sinking into his length until you’re full. He sees your cunt stuffed, jumping on his cock, writhing in pleasure for him.

Minho wants you, he has already experienced it with other girls. The problem is that this time it is not reciprocal.

“Shit”, he curses his frustration out with only that word.

He can't put into a sentence how much he really wants to have you after only one little taste. How difficult it feels to get you with how out of his reach you are settles one option between his hands. Ironically, his own hands.

He gives absolutely zero fucks to how unethical it is of him to imagine you naked. He cares little to nothing how wrong it is to think that the hand that slips into his pants is yours. Or worse yet, that it's your warm little hole.

Just imagining it makes his hips buck up instantly, he feels every part of his body getting warm with the light touch of his fingers on the underside of his dick. He palms everything on top of his boxers' fabric, feeling how hard he is. The grip around him becomes proper once he breaks the barrier with his underwear, he pumps his fist without even flinching in guilt. There is no guilt. His hisses are audible, the stimulation is concise and effective. The growls soon escape his mouth, he chases after his high as if he were running a marathon with a very fixed goal. His wrist moves fluidly, it's natural for Minho to find the rhythm of things and follow it without losing it.

He's focused, he's euphoric. “Agh, (name)”, he whimpers at a quite loud volume considering his roommate isn’t there. “Damnit”.

Minho transports to that night. He feels the touch of your hands on his skin, your gaze, the touch of your untouched pussy over his clothed cock. It is literally inhuman how quickly the pleasure builds with each stroke of his hand. His free fingers press against the sheets with the same anger that the precum spreads around his slit. His eyes are closed so tightly that flashes show up before his lids. Heat rises from his feet to his middle. The way his heartbeat speeds leaves him unable to think of anything else but the thrill of thrusting into you over and over again. His mouth waters just imagining how delicious it must be to wriggle his tip through your wet folds, to see you restless and desperate to have him inside you.

Damn, he looks so pathetic right now. His lips part with every moan that rolls past them, his cheeks are flushed, his hair disheveled from throwing his head back.

Minho has done this more times than he'll admit, and yet none have ever felt this way. His cock throbs so strongly, the feeling makes his thighs spasm. He sinks deep into the idea that it's your pure walls that are squeezing him instead of his hand, that when he presses around his base, he simply ejaculates. Disastrously. His hips lose nearly all control, he expands his thighs and gives in to the image of his cum filling you as it overflows all over his hand. He thrusts up once, twice, even a third time until his pelvis stiffens motionlessly from the intensity of the orgasm. His wrist doesn't stop until it hurts.

The prick of overstimulation reaches, and it makes him gasp. He rolls to the side feeling like he just fell from a fifth floor on impact. His breathing is so heavy, it echoes inside his skull along with the sound of his heart and fading whines.

It takes him a solid minute to open his eyes, accepting in advance that he won't run into you when he does. Indeed, the darkness of the room brings him back to reality as he looks around ― his head burying itself in the pillow. He shudders on the spot, unable to formulate another thought other than realizing how screwed up he is.

His hot cum all over the mattress isn’t the biggest problem to solve right now. Minho won't survive long this way. He needs to make you his for his own good.

05, 06. THE CHASE AND THE HAUNT.

Or maybe not said that way. After analyzing it in every way and with every possible outcome, Minho came to the conclusion that he needs to go after you. He is the one that needs to have something, anything.

Your acclaimed person is so distant from what happened last night in his room, and what currently goes through his head. As expected, you locked yourself in the practice room to polish your individual number only for your clothing staff to kidnap you through it to finalize the details of the outfits you would wear.

Minho was called to the room for the same purpose, and that's how he finally finds you. Accidentally, rather.

Of course that the kind and sweet stylist you share would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, in fact, she thought you had already left the wardrobe when she sent Minho to try on the two pieces he would have to choose from for his own outfit. Minho also didn't realize you were there until he moved the door and collided with your figure. Your shirtless figure.

"Oh, sorry", he apologizes, stepping back.

You look up and see him through the wardrobe mirror. You do nothing but laugh, the reaction seems funny to someone who has seen you in a bikini. Pretty up close.

"You saw me in a bathing suit already", you say out loud.

The accusation forces him to stop on his tracks just to prove that he is not acting with the same intentions as before. "I can still be a gentleman, don't you think?"

You laugh again instead of answering. Surely he can, but him saying it so confidently while standing there doesn't sit right. You don't feel exposed despite his eyes being glued to you ― some particular dance outfits provided you with the confidence that the exposure requires, they have helped you lose your shyness and face the staring. Minho confirms that he didn't take his time enjoying you now that he sees you again with just a tiny piece of clothing covering your chest. Those same curves, the defined spine, the smooth skin, those hips. Everything was within his reach and he hardly profited.

His silence turns you curious. You flip your head to look at his face as you unfold the garment that will cover your observed torso, trying to figure out what he is doing.

"Will you stand there until I’m done with my fit?"

Minho makes eye contact with you. His expression remains as serious as it can be.

“I could”, he hints. “There is only one fitting room”.

"You could wait outside, though".

He nods his head. "I could", he uses that tone that seems sarcastic with how obvious his eyes are. His gaze doesn't lie, he clearly couldn't. "Do you want me to wait outside?"

What a stupid question, you would think of any other situation than this. With anyone other than Minho. That fine line between seeking your consent and testing you makes your hair stand on end, and you don't know if it irritates you or you love it.

You look down at the zipper of the garment, deducing by the touch behind you if you’re able to close it. You lean to the side to look through the mirror and make the task easier, deciding after the failure that the answer you'll give Minho will be for your convenience.

“I want you to help me with this”, you shake the end of the garment that you can’t fit into the zipper by yourself. "If you're going to stand there like a fool at least be useful".

Minho is ridiculously attracted to your tough talk. He does like being the one in control, but something about your command arouses interest in him. Perhaps, it’s considering that he can approach you and go in search of his initial purpose. He comes up behind you and zips the piece up, you asked for his help and he gave it to you. Now, he will ask a question and expect you to provide an answer.

“Do you still feel uncomfortable about what happened that night?”, he shoots his bomb.

Clearly, it catches you off guard.

You know exactly what night Minho is talking about, it's the only thing you've been thinking about since it happened. You can no longer sleep, shower or eat without thinking about how close you came to sleeping with a guy for the first time. The answer to his question is no, you don't feel uncomfortable, but that's not what you say.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about it", he goes straight to the point. Unlike you.

Your stomach does something that it only does when you face fear. Anxiety. You won’t confess with words that you’re in the same state as him, you rather see him be the loser this time just for pleasure. You look up through the mirror like that morning in the practice room ― now you're controlling the situation and that gives you confidence.

"Too bad", you coo. "You said that it had to be done with no feeling other than lust".

"I know. But I feel like I'm not even thinking straight, it's like I'm not thinking with my head".

"Oh, so you're thinking with your dick".

Minho snorts, offended by your lack of seriousness. "Don't be so vulgar".

You're not trying to be vulgar, you’re just realistic. Minho moves his foot behind him, giving the door a brief but strong shove to close it. The impact startles you. You’re not entirely able to connect Minho's actions with his second intentions until he looks down at your face. There it is that familiar closeness to your ear that makes you aware of your surroundings.

"When you ran out saying you didn't know what you were doing… was that the only reason why you left?"

Your gaze remains lowered despite feeling Minho's fixed on your face. Remembering how embarrassing it was to run away makes you giggle.

“What other reason would there be? You know I've never done anything, I didn't feel brave enough to start that night".

Minho grins. The answer is a bit tricky, but it's not the denial he feared to hear. It has a firm structure to hold on to. He dares to lay his fingers on the back of your hand, he traces the blunt lines of your veins with his soft fingertips. It climbs slowly, with daintiness. The truth is that you're not thinking about what Minho is suggesting, otherwise, you'd run away again.

Even more so when his voice drops to a whisper. "So that means I'm not the problem, right?"

Minho cares too much. And you don't understand why.

Your fingers move trying to take his by intuition. He doesn't grant you the grip, though, his hand goes around your wrist. Up your arm, over your shoulder and back down before you can ask your question.

“Why is it so important?”, you ask. Criticize even.

“Because I don't want to struggle over something I can get”, he clarifies.

His fingers shove the ends of your hair, exposing your neck on the opposite side that he is. You raise your head, attempting to make an eye contact that fails awkwardly. Minho turns his head to the side he exposed, and sighs directly against your skin. His breath is warm, it makes you shrug. You feel his grip around your wrist and don't fight it back, you allow him to rotate your figure so that your back faces the wall. You look up into his eyes and inevitably take a step back — your body meets the wall to remind you that there is no escape. Neither from this moment, nor from Lee Minho.

Your attention drops to his lips and the way they move as he talks. “Let me try something different with you, angel”.

You shouldn't laugh, but your reaction is quite cheeky. You chuckle at the pet name he chose. Angel, the word repeats itself in your brain until you manage to meet his eyes again.

"You say that to every girl you've been with?", you nag at his offer.

Part of you is asking honestly, and part of you is expecting a sarcastic answer that would be very Minho-esque. How could he betray his faithful personality?

He arches an eyebrow, the gesture doesn't show the slightest intention of denying your accusation. “Probably”, he then says, taking a step closer. "But now it's your turn to hear it".

His hand falls to the side of your head, his palm firmly pressed against the wall to support his weight. Minho analyzes you. He knows that language in girls when it comes to this instance with them. The lack of rejection, the tension in the air. You, in addition to said tension, feel very nervous. You want to laugh out of fear and awareness of the unfolding sequence, but you don't have time to do so. Minho presses a kiss to your lips so gently that you have a hard time registering it. Your eyes don't even close, they stay open and lucid to look at him when he pulls away.

“What are you even doing?”, you whisper. Panicked.

“I told you so”, he mumbles with refined acuity. “I’m being a gentleman”.

The expression on your face reflects exactly what a question mark would reflect. You don't understand anything, and you don't keep quiet about it.

"I don't want you to be a gentleman with me", you express. Maybe, choosing the wrong words.

Minho interprets what he wants, and with a smile at the corner of those lips that just kissed yours, he lifts an eyebrow at you again. The cocky innuendo from him sends you instant regret.

You sigh.

"No―, I don't mean it that way", you clarify, trying to arrange your speech. But, it is exactly that battle with words that Minho has already expressed that he finds useless.

“You need to stop beating around the bush, (name)".

His suggestion doesn’t come alone, no, his free hand joins his act. He pushes under your chin and holds your head to access your neck. His voice drops to a whisper to fit the environment.

"If I'm not the problem, why do you avoid the great opportunities you have to gain experience?"

"Because I'm ashamed!", you admit. "I don't want to look like a fool".

Minho chuckles.

“Like a fool?”, he asks with an incredulous tone. “Do you have any idea how sexy you looked on top of me? Grinding your hips down on mine, enjoying whatever that messy thing that we were doing was”.

Your heart, strangely, remains relaxed. What becomes difficult for you is breathing. Minho's breath hits that spot just below your ear that he's been clinging to in every last interaction you've had. You have to admit that you're desperate to feel his lips on top of it again.

Amusingly, Minho does. His lips press against your skin just once, to show you that he understands what you want without you telling him.

“Do you think I'll make fun of you for being clueless?”, he questions your fears, wrinkling his nose to keep from laughing. "I just want us to feel good, to finish what started that time".

The idea gives you goosebumps. Though to be fair it's probably Minho's voice in your ear. His fingers expand, he drags them up your neck, down your chest, around your waist, and they finally stick to the waistband of your pants. Minho blatantly insists on pulling the fabric. You no longer have doubts about what will happen if you allow him to continue, and that is why you must stop him.

You place your hand on top of his, and lower your gaze to such. "Lee Minho, for God's sake, I'm not having my first time with you in a dressing room".

"You're right", he agrees with no second thought. "I need manners with you".

Well… being slumped on the bed in his hotel room after that was fair enough.

The outfit issue is long forgotten by the time the only clothes left on you are your underwear set. Minho discarded each item of clothing as if he was unwrapping a present, his eyes glistening at every inch of skin exposed like he was removing the lid from a saucer.

His lips are everywhere, his hands can’t stop roaming along your figure. It's the first time you've moved so unconsciously, you don’t even realize your fingers pull on his hair while he's on top of you. He has every detail covered, his knee between your thighs presses into the wet patch of your panties. His teeth nibble on your chest to leave a mark. Everything feels hot, intense, humid. You can’t describe what you feel in your stomach, it may be anxiety.

Minho takes his time, he certainly does, but you have no speed perception. However, you do have space one. Your eyes register every movement, you're afraid to admit you're paying too much attention ― you notice Minho's messy hair, how angry the veins are on his arms, how defined his waist seems circled by your thighs, and how incredibly sexy he looks holding his member in his hands as he tests how easy it may or may not be to bury himself in you.

The sight of your aching pussy, begging for a more intense touch is even better than he had imagined in his fantasies. A deep chuckle takes over his words, his thoughts are released with no shame. “How will all this fit inside you?”, he whispers while stroking himself. "Can you take it all?"

It’ll be difficult, that is a fact. Minho is extremely careful at sliding into your hole, he doesn't even remember the last time he was this slow and gentle with a girl. Hell, he also doesn't remember the last time someone hugged him so tight and warm. Even with the absolute control he has over his dancer's hips, he feels on a tightrope in not being able to stay completely still inside you.

Your complaints don't take long to arrive. The burning and discomfort is real, it's a stretch you never thought you'd experience. You feel so full, intruded to be precise. You dig your nails into Minho's arm, whimpering in desperation. You need him to do something to make the feeling improve. He moves guardedly, his hand lowers to your thigh and tries to make his thrusts more bearable with his soft caresses.

"You're too tense", he points out the obvious. His thumb moves back and forth on your leg to soothe you.

You whine out loud, feeling your muscles contract. Minho growls at this, it's impossible for him not to react to what you give him unawarely. You clench so deliciously around him, he feels like the devil itself is testing his patience. He tucks his head into your neck, which allows you to whisper in his ear — it might be intimate, but the words coming out of your mouth aren't as passionate as he hopes.

“Because it hurts like shit”, you exhale, gasping for air. Your chest is compressed, Minho knows he has to take responsibility for how much you're struggling to breathe.

He smiles, licking his lips to whip out the gesture. He raises his head, gaze meeting yours in such a candid way that you find it hard to believe that this is the same Minho you know. He takes your hand, making sure to maintain eye contact as he brings it to his mouth. He presses the most gentlemanly, sweet kiss to the back and lifts it over your head to keep it there.

Your heart races at his actions, they take you as unprepared as his relaxed voice that tries to convey coolness. “Try to relax, okay? I won't go any harder than this until it gets better”, he assures, knowing full well that standing still won't work — he moves slowly and fluidly so your pure, untouched walls conform to having something stretching them. "And if it doesn't improve, it dies right there".

You have no reason not to believe him, and your body knows it. Your body hears it. You throw your head back and close your eyes, concentrating on rescuing the good in everything that is happening around you right now. Minho smiles again, he can tell you're struggling but you're not making a fuss. Your fingers slip between his, and he automatically laces them together.

"That's it, angel", he cheers you up as he feels the change in your muscles. He squeezes your hand triumphant with the progression. "Do you think you can keep it that way?"

You know he's doing this for his own pleasure, but somehow, his accompaniment makes you feel like you're the center of attention. You nod vaguely, surprising yourself with the moan that rips the response from your tongue. "Fuck, uh, surely I can".

Minho's deep laugh makes you open your eyes, you now realize he’s watching you. There's something about the way your lashes grace your rising lids, something about the way your brows contract over your eyes that morphs your gaze into one of pure bliss. You smile, laughing airily at how fucked up you must look right now. Minho feels something similar to excitement twisting his gut when he sees that his goal is not as far away as he thought.

He leans in so he can hover all the way on top of you, grabbing your thigh with his free hand and gently lifting it up to make it hug his waist. He wants you closer than before, closer than ever. The feeling of your chest pressed against his is addicting. He doesn't let go of your hand, and he definitely won't do it until you dig your nails into the back of his while cumming. Minho groans, you feel so helpless and fragile in his grasp ― he wants to be the only man that lays his hands over you.

His hips adjust to the new angle, counting on your contribution. He goes so deep once you relax, so viciously, he's forced to press his forehead to yours. Your sounds become firmer, they turn into more understandable moans, they leave him no choice but to be honest with you before it's too late.

“Stay audible and clear for me, doll. I will only stop when you tell me to do it with your own words”.

And you exhale a little 'okay', but oh no, you definitely don't want him to stop this time.

07. THE CONFUSION.

The first thing you realized as soon as you opened your eyes was that you weren't in your room. Second, the clock said past 10 and that meant you were already late for breakfast. The speed with which you showered and got ready to go down to eat did not allow you to have a single thought, much less a memory of what happened in the afternoon-night. Sure, completely ignoring the ache between your legs and your muscles.

You entered the dining room and looked around for at least one person from your crew to confirm that they hadn't left for practice and abandoned you, which would be humiliating enough without having to explain why you were absent. You scanned the tables until you found Minho, and not too far away Hyunjin.

Strangely, he is still sitting alone.

You simply grab a snack so you don't waste any more time eating, then blindly take a seat at the table where he is. Hyunjin looks up from his cup and doesn't greet you in the bright, warm way that he's known for. His eyes are dark, dull, as if he had slept terribly and the exhaustion is now transmitted to his soul. Your clumsy attempt to open your snack makes you avoid his gaze.

“Am I too late?”, you ask, looking over Hyunjin's shoulder to see the coach sitting at the other table.

"No", he answers. "But we will be if you take too long with that snack".

You sigh, shaking your head in frustration. Your neck hurts, it's evident from the way you take your hand to your side to massage the muscles. The action is innocent, your only purpose is to relieve the tension, but it attracts Hyunjin's eyes. The mark on your skin is difficult to ignore for him, the hot water in the shower only made it more visible.

“I’m really sorry, I overslept”, you apologize, interrupting his staring ― straight at the hickey you still haven't realized you have.

You also don't notice that Hyunjin doesn't take his eyes off you since you’re too focused on munching the wafer. "Don't worry”, he says calmly despite throwing a sharp statement. “You probably ended up really tired from yesterday".

It is only then that you raise your head. One hemisphere of your brain automatically links his comment to the exhaustive practice the three of you had for the vast majority of the day, while the other is connecting the pieces of what happened last night. It collects the events and puts them together at a speed that your tongue doesn’t respect, since you speak before you even understand what he means.

You chuckle, it's so funny to you. "You know something I don't?", you joke, tossing your hair behind your ear awkwardly.

Hyunjin chews the last piece of his toast, and shakes his head. You are so oblivious.

"No, I just have a good ear", he explains, mimicking the giggle. "You're pretty vocal when you're having a good time".

The food goes down his throat with such a bitter taste that he needs to take that last sip of his coffee to wash it down. He’s so frustrated and angry that he can't even tell you to your face that he heard your particular encounter with Minho in his room, which he tried to get into at night and failed. He wipes the drops of the liquid from his lips with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and stands up abruptly. Your eyes follow his movements with confusion, his last words echo inside your head until you manage to join the dots.

Your eyes meet Minho's at the table across from you, and the change in your expression is clear. Your stomach drops to your feet. Damn, Hyunjin knows. You swallow quickly, dragging your chair to get up and go after him.

“Hyunjin, wait!”

His steps don’t go as far as you expected, he stops regretfully in the corridor that connects the hall with the hotel stairs and conditions you to bump into him. He turns at the sound of your hurried footsteps, knowing that the conversation that follows is not a pleasant one. He raises his hands in front of you, ending the talk before it even begins.

“Forget about it, (name)”.

“No, let me talk”, you insist on approaching him. "It's not what you think!"

The battle inside you to explain that between you and Minho nothing happens seems lost already. You don't feel like there's an explanation to why Hyunjin heard you having sex with him other than a failure to save what you thought existed between you two.

“And what is it then?”, he asks frankly. "I thought you and I were into each other, but I don't even know if you're single or not anymore".

"I am! What you heard has nothing to do with it—"

“I know very well what I heard, (name)”, he interrupts you. "I don't need you to explain in detail what you and Minho were doing, but at least don't make me think I have a chance with you when I don't".

His point is so, so consistent that telling the truth would make you sound like a liar. A stupid, indecisive liar.

"Yes, you do! Just let me explain this long story and you will understand!", you beg.

And Hyunjin really wants to listen to you in hopes of keeping that chance you swear that exists, but his pride won't let him. Nothing can erase that feeling of disappointment that overwhelmed his body when he heard you receiving pleasure, hearing you being satisfied by someone else while he spent the whole day thinking about the most discreet and respectful way to approach you. Dear lord, he felt like an idiot!

His eyes close, he’s mad with himself, he knows he's not in the mood for this to end well. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear it", he admits. He sounds as hurt as he is. "At least not now".

Hyunjin tries to turn around, but you grab his arm. "And when then?"

"When I don't feel like an idiot for hearing you fucking someone else".

You watch his figure disappear up to the hotel stairs, feeling much the same disappointment that Hyunjin feels now. You can't believe how careless you were. How you allowed Minho to continue with his plan. Good heavens, what kind of person are you? You don't have any kind of emotional responsibility.

You turn around as frustrated as before, colliding with the guilty person. There, standing like a statue, is Minho silently watching you. You snort, annoyed, walking towards the room completely avoiding him.

Of course, Minho isn’t taking your scene. He intercepts you by grabbing your arm and holding you back before you can keep walking away.

“(Name), what was that?”

"It's none of your business".

“What? You were talking about me”

“Yeah, and that's why I don't want to be seen with you, Minho. Don’t you get it?"

No, he doesn’t.

"No, I don't!", he says out loud.

“Don't you realize that exactly what I said would happen, happened? You ruined my only chance to have something serious with Hyunjin!”

Minho can't process how it's his fault, but what comes out of your mouth still hurts him. He can’t understand at what point he did something so cruel. Or worse yet, what did he do to get there.

His hard expression softens by the simple fact that his feelings have just been attacked. "Did I ruin your chance?"

"Of course you did!", you shoot angrily, coldly. "Hyunjin heard us yesterday when he wanted to enter the room and now he doesn't even want to talk to me!"

“And why would that be my fault?”, he chuckles pretty much with sarcasm. “You agreed to have sex with me, and making you being audible is ruining your chance with that dumbass?”

"He's not a dumbass!", you contradict, pointing your finger at him. “I am the dumbass!”

“You are being totally dramatic and absurd right now. You can't deprive yourself of doing whatever you want just because you're meeting someone, (name)”, he says with a logic that you can't take in right now. "You have a life besides Hyunjin".

You can't suppress the chuckle either. You’re not making the deep analysis it requires to what Minho is saying. Which to top it off, is nothing but the truth.

"It's called self-respect, in case you don't know about it", you dumbly contradict.

"I respect myself a lot, and that's why I won't let you blame me for helping you have a little more freedom in your boring life!"

You could laugh again, but instead, you stare at Minho with a flippant gaze that anticipates your hurtful words. “You see why I was not wrong to judge you? This is exactly how a whore who doesn't care about other people's feelings thinks".

Ouch. You really screwed it up there.

“You're even more conservative than I thought for someone that had just lost their virginity”, he points out immediately. "And totally hypocritical".

You bite your cheek to avoid biting your tongue. For the first time since you woke up, you control the urge to say something stupid. You swallow hard after the accusation and the humiliating situation you're going through, and simply let go of Minho's grip to continue walking. This time, you head towards the stairs. He looks at you, offended, unable to believe that you can't finish the conversation.

"Where are you going? I’m not the bad guy here!"

"I have to talk with Hyunjin", you say over your shoulder, not looking back.

You walk off like a coward, with no regret or consideration for what you just did. You don't realize how much your erroneous words weigh — you genuinely think that someone like Minho can't feel bad about your reproach, which on top of that is childish and hypocritical as he pointed out.

Minho watches you disappear as you did minutes ago with Hyunjin, and he feels something very different from what you felt. He feels offended, hurt by your spontaneous actions. Blaming him is clearly not the solution to your problem, but from now on he doesn't give a damn to what it is about. He's just going to focus on how to get rid of it.

You made a big, big mistake with him. You turned Minho into Hyunjin's rival.

08. THE JEALOUSY.

Of all the unnecessary things that could ruin the focus and dedication that must be put into the competition, a sex scandal was not on the list.

The coach stopped paying so much attention to you and Hyunjin warming up before practice because it seemed more important to continue with the paperwork he had in his hands ― which Minho was supposed to be helping with by sitting next to him on the floor. He's not doing it, obviously. His eyes are fixed on you two and how animated you look after the absurd argument he witnessed yesterday.

The talk you had worked effectively, he can tell.

He follows Hyunjin's every move, especially his hands that land on top of you less blatantly each time. The coach hears him grunt under his breath, realizing there is some kind of discontent from his older student.

"Stop complaining Lee, you'll get wrinkles".

“Why did you bring the junior? We could compete and win just fine without him”, Minho claims, finally vocalizing what runs through his mind.

“A minimum of three individual acts were required for registration”, the coach reports. "Don't make me repeat what you already know".

Minho snorts. Maybe he wouldn't be so bothered by Hyunjin's mere existence if it wasn't for the little detail that he's interfering between you and him. Even if the younger guy hadn't made that idiotic claim to you at breakfast he wouldn't be so irritated, he'd just continue to judge him as usual for trying to get close to you.

“Look at him, he's so messy”, he whispers as he watches Hyunjin pick up the choreography for the song. "You could have picked someone who executes the steps as neatly as (name) does, and not mess up all the body lines!"

The coach takes a look without stopping what he’s doing, just verifying that what Minho says is real. Of course, it is just an exaggeration and the chuckle he drops proves it. "Go warm up too, Lee," he orders to get rid of him once and for all.

Minho clicks his tongue at him and, possibly for the first time in his life, disobeys his superior's order. He gets up from the floor and leaves the room. He doesn't wait for the reproach that actually never comes. The coach knew that today was not going to be a productive day since the moment he sat down next to him.

You can't ignore Minho, your eyes follow his figure through the mirror as he departs radiating a dark aura. You know you're to blame for his attitude, but you also know how important the competition is and where you need to focus your attention. You keep your head on the practice until the extreme physical exhaustion makes your mind go blank, which helps you not to think about Minho. You sweat your soul out, go back to your room and take a shower to wash away all that sorrow and unnecessary stress that you’re currently carrying.

You wish you had known that all that inner therapy would be in vain before you got out of the bathroom and got ready for dinner.

With your hair already dried and wearing your pajamas you decided to choose decent clothes to leave the room, totally overlooking the plans your dance partner had. Minho spent the whole afternoon reflecting on his actions, lying on the bed in the room next door. He heard your every move, when you walked in, when you slammed the bathroom door shut, when the shower was running, and when the sound of the hair dryer became unbearable.

He can’t ignore what's happening to him. He can't let things get screwed up between the two of you before he's even gotten something real from you.

That's why your door opens with no warning, and the scare you experience is vivid. You turn around responsively, looking at Minho and the lack of expression on his face. “How the hell did you get in?”, is the first thing you ask.

Minho raises in his hand the card that you have previously seen the coach use to enter. "The coach got distracted".

You can't understand how he has such nerve to barge in like that and not look the least bit concerned. "What do you want to come into my room for?"

“I want to talk to you”, he informs, fighting the hard deviation in his eyes that have already noted that your pajamas are nothing more than a long shirt that barely covers the ridiculously short shorts.

Your demanding voice keeps him quite attentive, nonetheless. "I told you I didn't want to be seen with you".

Minho doesn't hesitate to turn the lock on the door. The very characteristic sound reaches your ears.

"I know", he assures after your reminder. "That's why I'm locking".

He walks closer to you, and even though you would prefer not to deal with this scene. Whereas a part of you is curious to know what will happen, the other pushes your body away. You only take a small step back that is more than enough to make you collide with the bed behind you. You don't even lose your balance and Minho still grabs your arm like you might fall. You don't reject his touch, and that's already a good sign for him.

"You can't just ignore me like we don't have to compete together in a few days".

"Watch me do it”, you challenge him with your gaze. "It's called professionalism".

“Drop that shit”, he practically commands, applying the most subtle force to pull your arm and stick your hips to his. “Just tell me the truth about what you told me the other day. Are you really mad at me?"

You don’t answer. Your palm presses against his chest at the closeness, but you don't push him away. Minho insists because you give him the place to do it.

"You want me to believe that I committed the worst atrocity in the world when I did not", he expresses honestly. His eyes don't lie, he's not being sarcastic as usual. "I really tried my best to give you a nice experience", he adds.

You simply can't fall for his manipulation that easily.

“You didn't do it for me, Minho. You just wanted to have sex, you said it yourself that the only way to get it so easily is to do it without any feeling involved other than sheer need".

"That doesn't mean that I can make an effort so that my partner has a good time, don't you think?"

You do believe it, but you don't understand why something like that would come from someone like him.

As if he could read your thoughts, Minho insists on convincing you that he is not a heartless being. "I did my best, any idiot would have finished in a minute and not even bothered to keep up with you".

Flashbacks from that night run through your head. The delicacy in each movement, in each brush of his hands with your skin, the guidance and coordination with you, the sweet things that came out of his mouth to keep your trust. Minho did, in fact, put a lot of effort into being your first time — but that proves absolutely nothing.

Your hand loses firmness, it falls down with the purpose of pushing him away. "You're not making any point with that", you whisper, convinced to put an end to the interaction.

But Minho wraps his other hand around your waist. He won't let you walk away now.

“Yes I am”, he doesn’t give up. “Can't you even see what's going on? You are taking it out on me for your lack of responsibility about your feelings for Hyunjin”.

It’s inevitable for your eyes not to pay attention to his lips while he speaks. Minho has the advantage of drawing you to him without trying, and it clearly makes a difference. Your fingers trail to his forearm despite not making an attempt to release their hold on your waist. Involuntarily, you agree with him. Minho scans the scene and realizes that if you were as offended at him as you led him to believe, you would have kicked him out of the room by now.

“It's not my fault that people can see me with you if you are the one allowing me to be close”, he accuses before pointing out the obvious proof. "Look at you, made a whole scene in the dining room and now don't even try to get away".

You recognize it, it is not debatable. You look around and accept that you enjoy Minho's attention, but of course, you can't let the rest of the world know that. Well, you're pretty lucky the door's been locked because you're not showing any signs of moving anytime soon.

Minho puts his hand under your chin and lifts your head with his finger. His eye contact is so intense that it makes you feel like he can see your thoughts, and in between, how anxious you are. His lips pout toward your face and for a second you think he's going to kiss you, which gives him another reason to say what he's going to say.

"You're such a hypocrite”, he whispers above your mouth. "You enjoy what I do to you but you push me away the moment someone else sees you".

His gaze falls to the current position you’re in, and his mind flies as far away as possible. God knows Minho is dying to push you onto that stupid mattress right now and lose all sense of mercy towards you. But he can't, fuck, he can’t see you the same way he saw all his previous hook-ups. He must control himself because he knows that he is the only man that has ever put his hands on you.

You don't understand very well what his silence means, so you muster up the courage to say a word. "I'm sorry", you mutter like any broken person would.

Minho chuckles. "You do?"

You nod. "I was so frustrated by Hyunjin’s reaction, I didn't think about what I was saying", you explain, getting the most cocky smile out of his lips.

He could never turn down your apology and carry on as if nothing had happened. You're so obvious, you can't even prioritize your supposed feelings towards Hyunjin. You're just a poor, delusional girl desperate to have something from Lee Minho. Like everyone else.

It is more than predictable that he will give it to you without you asking.

His feet shuffle forward to pull you back and lay on the bed without pushing you the way he wants to. Your arms mold to the mattress, supporting your weight on your forearms as you analyze what is happening. Your heart is beating fast and the voice in your head is getting louder, but you can't bring yourself to get up and put a brake on him. You don't want him to stop, even if you have no idea what he's going to do.

Minho just stands in front of you, getting that innocent look of yours from below. He is convinced that he has never had such a beautiful view.

"That's the only thing you care about", he says. "What you say, not what you do".

You feel the shame creeping up your body at acknowledging. You're ridiculous, but it's no surprise to you. No one in their right mind would be in your position right now.

Minho pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt and folds them over his elbows, making himself comfortable to continue. "It’s okay, if that's how you want it to be, lie in front of everyone to save your reputation", he giggles. "Just let me show you how good you can feel without having to miss out on that fool".

You're not entirely sure what that means, but his mere speech makes you nervous. You swallow hard and unconsciously close your legs. Minho prevents you from restricting his access by stepping between them. He pushes the left one with his knee and forces you to make room for him to kneel. Your head follows his figure as he drops to the floor, and you confirm that your heart is one beat away from exploding.

Minho finds you so cute, he can't help but squeeze your thigh with his hand to reassure you. "Chill out, angel", he suggests as he feels your tense muscles. "If I put myself in this position it's so you can kick me if you want to".

He gently pushes your other leg and presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh. It makes you shiver, Minho is barely touching you and you’re already feeling overwhelmed. His lips land on your skin two, three times, pressing higher and higher until he's on edge with your pussy. He hasn't clarified what he's going to do yet, but from the way he licks his lips, you've already caught the hint.

“You two looked so cute warming up earlier today… so close to each other”, he whispers. His warm breath hitting your most sensitive spot makes you shudder.

Minho finds it easier for his fingers to creep down to your shorts. He vaguely tugs at your waistband and manages to discard your lower garments, exposing you to him. There is no thought behind his eyes other than touching you. His fingertips are so smooth, you can tell when he rubs his digits along your folds. The minimal contact with your clit makes you whine.

“Does he make you this sensitive too?”, he asks, picking up his talk about Hyunjin. “Do you get this wet around him too?”

His thumb presses on top of your button-shaped organ, giving it the most subtle circles. You bite your lip, realizing that his talk has turned you on more than you can admit. Even you yourself don't know the way your body works, the heat that spreads from your core with Minho's fingers wasn't there minutes ago. Your breath loses its rhythm, you exhale audibly.

“Minho―”, you whimper, struggling with your words.

He looks up and sees your beautiful face contracting. He doesn't ask you what's going on, he already knows it and that's why he knows what to do next. His warm tongue intrudes over your slit, taking a small lick. He tests your sensitivity and confirms that you're a mess when your thighs twitch.

"You're a complete mess", he laughs under his breath. His eyebrows draw together on his forehead, eyes fixed on you with an expression that borders on empathy. “How could I leave you like this? All hot and in need of someone to make you cum so hard”.

His fingers split your folds widely, the cold air makes you gasp. He bites his lip, taking a split second to contemplate how glorious this moment is before immersing himself fully in your taste. He wraps his cushiony lips around your exposed clit and sucks fervently, ripping the most surprising moans out of your mouth. You have no control over your torso leaning forward ― Minho takes care by pressing his free hand to your abdomen to hold you in place. You literally gasp for air, bringing your hand on top of his. He smirks without holding back his supplies, forcing himself to kick the smile off his lips because the stretch doesn't allow him to suck properly. Your voice cracks as it leaves your throat, broken moans that sound as pathetic as how fast your juices leak out of your hole. His tongue collects them all, savoring your essence before detaching his mouth from your sex by licking his lower lip. His mouth and chin are drenched in you.

"You taste as good as I imagined", he confesses out loud, making little to no effort to hide that he is enjoying it.

Minho's words make you shy, they make you feel so embarrassed, but the idea that he fantasized about satisfying you has your head spinning. Minho wants you and you're barely acknowledging it. Your body doesn't wait for you to assimilate it in order to react, nonetheless, your walls squeeze while remembering how it felt having him inside of you. He notices it, of course he does by having his face buried in your pussy. He arches an eyebrow, judging you.

“You can’t stop clenching, can’t you?”, he giggles.

You don't answer, you can't. He abandons your hand over your abdomen and resumes the touch along your folds. He surrounds your hole with not-so-subtle pressure, you whimper louder than you expected the sound to come out. He's right, you're too sensitive. You can't stop clenching.

"So desperate to be filled, damnit”, he exhales. Even Minho sighs at how needy you are.

He briefly discusses the situation and what he wants to do inside his head. It would be so timely to get rid of his tight pants right now and bury himself inside you until you scream and put on a better show than the one Hyunjin heard. But you are not worthy of that after the questioning you did. He's so sorry, oh he really is by giving you a sorrowful expression.

“But you don't deserve my cock after hurting me like that”, he shakes his head to both sides and quickly lowers it. He can't believe those words are coming out of his mouth. "Holly fuck, listen to me, I'm denying dick to a girl".

You want to take him seriously, the pressure on your entrance is driving you crazy and not helping at all. You try to compose yourself and correct your posture but Minho gets up from his position just to hover over you. You lay your back on the mattress, looking up at him nearly terrified, feeling his fingers glide inside you. He moves closer to your face, teasing you with his provocative eyebrows.

“You see how seriously I'm taking things with you?”, he asks, slowly pumping his fingers.

Your slick, warm walls hug his digits in an indescribable way. Not even Minho, the guy with the most unlocked adjectives for sexual practices, knows how to explain how amazing it feels. Your chest feels airtight as the pleasure builds in your core, it's so intense yet so smooth. He curls his fingers in the right way at the right rhythm, everything feels good. The moan that escapes from the back of your throat sounds like music to his ears, which takes him to abuse that spot. The sinful sound reappears, over and over again.

"Fuck, angel, you do have a weak point", he whispers, pressing his free palm to your hip. Innocent of him to believe that would stop them from bucking up in desperation when your orgasm is building so fast.

“Minho, I'm―”, you whine out, unable to control the way your walls spasm around his hand.

“What, doll? Are you feeling that good that you're close to cumming?"

His almost mocking tone makes you squirm in place until you become small. You hear Minho's laugh and close your eyes tightly, not wanting to see his face as your head is buried in the pillow. The waves of pleasure spreading through your sex make you suck in thick air. Your head spins as you unconsciously hold your breath, you can’t control any part of your body as you feel your thighs tremble. Minho fingers you as if he's playing a game where he has the best score, he does it so naturally and knows exactly what the hidden tricks are. Maybe it's the fact that he enjoys sex so much that grants him the quality of being so good ― to see your half-naked body, your swollen lips, your messy hair, your nipples peeking out from under your shirt. Everything, everything about women motivates him to be an expert at making them cum.

And you are not the exception on that ground.

Your juices soak his fingers, he rides out your orgasm until your hips try to escape his hand. He doesn't waste the opportunity and pushes your closing legs open, burying his head between them. He licks a long strike along your slit to get you clean, collecting every drop that proves how ruined you are under his hands. You cry out, feeling so overstimulated. The void his fingers left is soon after replaced by his burning tongue, and you can only take his hair between your fingers in an attempt to make him stop. You look down into his eyes, catching your lost breath.

"You're a damn freak", you manage to mumble.

There's his chuckle again.

“Maybe”, he smiles proudly even though it wasn't a compliment. The strands of his hair fall into his eyes and it makes him look so handsome that it angers you to admit it. So you don't, you just growl.

You press your heel into his shoulder and mercilessly push him away from you. He was expecting something like that so he's not surprised, in fact, he smiles even more widely after falling on his butt. He supports his weight on his palms and watches you stand up, waiting for your comment. Since this doesn’t arrive, he takes the word himself.

"I was expecting a thank you at least".

“Get out of my room”, you order instead.

He fucking giggles. “What an ungrateful bitch”.

Minho gets up from the floor and shakes his hands like a worker after his shift. This time he obeys your order without prior detour. He walks backwards toward the door, keeping eye contact with you.

“Just a little reminder”, he points his finger at you. "I'll push you away too if you come back begging me because he doesn't make you feel as good as I do".

You don't take him seriously this time either, of course you don't. You sigh angrily and point to the door to emphasize that he needs to leave, which he does with the same mischievous smile that lives on his lips.

Minho walks away having had the last word, and poor you, because that is your second big mistake of the journey.

You proved him right.

09. THE OBSESSION.

A mentally unstable, horny girl obsession. That is to say, you.

It's been two whole days since that stupid slip you had with Minho, and every hour that passes turns into torture. You've forced yourself to spend time with Hyunjin in and out of practice to forget about what happened, and yet all you think about is that moment.

Now you're locked in your room like an idiot trying to ignore reality. You can’t avoid the memories of what happened in this very bed. The sheets under you were changed every morning and you can still smell Minho's scent on them. You can see yourself begging him to give you more. You went from being a virgin denied from any interaction with a man to only think about sex overnight. Or rather, think about sleeping with Minho.

The phone in your hand is of no use for distraction, so you toss it to your side. The darkness of the room is a whole canvas to recreate those scenes in your mind. This exact scene is identical to the one Minho had after having you the first time, and you don't even know it.

The roles have been reversed, and now you are the one facing the battle of neediness.

Just as you collapsed on the mattress an hour ago, you got up from it and left the room in search of the person who doesn’t leave your mind. You don't even try to do it casually and sneakily, which is a terrible sign that you've picked up the habits of that very son of a bitch you're looking for.

You just had to walk out the window into the backyard to see him in the hot tub like most nights, and like the one where it all started. You stopped in your tracks contemplating if you should interrupt him or if you should wait for him to come out ― before you could make a decision he looked in your direction and waved his hand inviting you to join him. You thought about it quickly, and shook your head in denial. Instead, you pointed behind for him to come out and follow you.

Minho didn't raise any suspicions, in fact, he assumed you just wanted to talk. How could he not give you a talk? He’s such a gentleman that gives up his rest in the hot water for you. He took the towel and wiped away the excess water, shook out his hair so the drops wouldn't fall, and hung it around his neck before walking through the glass door to follow you. You turned around without saying a word, dragging him into the laundry room.

Closing the door and forcing him to sit down is how you ended up in this situation, ready to show that you've lost all sense of sanity over a man.

Minho isn't afraid of almost anything when it comes to women, not even when you just locked him up, but he has to admit he's a bit disoriented. He sits on the small surface and leans back against the wall, watching you. You lean over the door, and stare at him in silence. Eye contact takes away the courage you mustered up for this confrontation, yet there is something within you that keeps you grounded. Probably, the thrill that goes up your body just thinking about giving back to Minho what he gave to you.

Your eyes roam over his bare skin, how ridiculously short his swimming shorts seem now that he's sitting down, the way his damp hair falls across his forehead, and the undried drops on his collarbones.

Minho blinks after a few dense seconds, suspecting that you don't have something to say as he thought. "You're not going to talk?"

His voice makes you look him in the eye again. "I don’t want to talk".

“And what did you bring me here for?”

Your chest swells as you inhale, sucking in air as an excuse to think about how to formulate your response. How difficult it becomes to be honest when your honesty is vulgar to hear. 'I want to fuck you to show that I can give you what you give me', is what should come out of your mouth.

“I need more”, is what actually rolls off your tongue.

Minho is confused, you can tell.

“You need more?”, he wonders, pulling the towel around his neck to remove it. He studies your expressions in search of an implicit explanation, but he doesn’t find it. He doesn't understand what you mean. “And what is more, exactly?”

“More”, you repeat.

You let go of the door latch, approaching with slow steps. Stealthy ones.

"I need more of whatever the fuck is going on between us, more of you".

He chuckles. That is not something he hears everyday. "You know I can't trust you, do you?"

You nod. You know very well that you have been very changeable, nearly bipolar with him, and that’s why you know how to prove that you are not lying. With your eyes fixed on his, you cautiously drop to your knees. Minho clearly won't heel kick you like you did, but you still have to be careful not to make a false move. His expression drops to a serious one. His Adam's apple bobs, he can't hide that your actions have taken him by surprise. With the lightest touch of your fingers on his knees, your hands progressively climb up his thighs. Minho's skin bristles. His gaze desists from eye contact and instead follows your hands. They are so, so close to his cock that it's reacting to your touch. He's just a man at the end of the day.

"I don't blame you for not believing a word I say", you admit, even compassionately. "But I need more".

Your fingers drift to his crotch, circle the bulge that's formed in his shorts. Minho doesn't speak, he doesn't blink. Your hand presses down on his hardening dick, his mind begins to soar. Your gaze meets his at just the right moment.

"I need to understand why I can't stop thinking about doing this", you say, pulling on the band to lower it as necessary.

The cold air hits his length, the erection takes place instantly. Your fingers surround it, your thumb circles over his head. He hisses, barely wrapping his head around the fact that you want him. Ironic, isn't it?

Aware that his voice will crack if he speaks loudly, he lowers it to a whisper. "You can't stop thinking about giving me head?"

His question makes you smirk, it encourages you to slide your hand toward his base. They are so cold and make him so sensitive. Your tongue takes a little lick, making him press the towel into his hand hardly. Minho groans, the sound is as pleasant as the next words that reach your ears.

"You're nasty girl", he mumbles.

And as if you already had it assimilated, you don't question it. You became, in fact, a pretty nasty person because of him. And it's only in that moment that you get it ― the reason you keep going after Minho is because you're obsessed with feeling filthy, badass. You're obsessed with gaslighting yourself into thinking you're not that boring virgin anymore.

Minho moans audibly, your strokes take a rhythm once you hear him. Despite never having done this before, his sounds give you the confidence to lean in and lock your lips around his length. To be fair, he completely forgot that you were inexperienced from the moment he saw your mouth water and lick your lips in front of his dick. And there you are, making him feel as good as if you did this daily. Your cheeks are so warm, so moist. Minho can't help but thrust his hips into your mouth, accidentally causing you to choke as his tip hits your throat. You laugh, sliding your lips out of him to collect the saliva. Still, a thread hangs from your chin and joins your shy smile that has him sighing.

"I'm sorry―", he apologizes for the offhandedness. He tosses the towel to the floor to free his hand and bring it to your head, stroking your hair to assert his regret. "I’m sorry, keep going!"

You follow immediately, making good use of your spit that lubricates him to the last inch. Your fingers take hold of the base, focusing your suction on his head. The whines you get are instantaneous, and you can tell he's not shy about being vocal. You can't figure out how, but hearing him makes the heat arise between your legs. You bob your head briskly, but with determination. Minho can only think about that night he felt so perverted touching himself thinking about you, and now he realizes that he wasn't so wrong. You're just as much of a freak as him.

You squeeze his base between your fingers, and automatically make him screech. “Agh, no―, uh, don't do that―, I'm gonna cum right now if you do that”, he warns.

But his warning doesn't sound like a threat to you. Your puppy eyes staring right at him are a tricky weapon. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No―”, he sounds desperate. He takes your hair in his hands, holding it out of the way. "Holy fuck, just, don't stop".

And it's the way he practically groans the words as he drags them out of his mouth that makes you obey him. You wrap your cheeks around his member and behave like a fucking porn star. Sucking, licking, stroking, spitting, doing all kinds of wonders that have Minho rolling his eyes to the back of his head. He looks ethereal this way. You don't know if it's the poor light coming in from the window at night, or the fact that he is under your absolute control, but you swear your heart is beating faster than any other time. Minho is pretty, and now you can confirm it without anger blasting inside you.

You can feel his cock twitching in your hand, and that's when you know he's totally lost. His moans turn to growls, his voice cracks. Your hand squeezes one of his thighs, but that doesn't stop him from expanding both of them as his hips jerk forward. His orgasm surprises even him, he cums faster than he expected. He shivers in your hold, can't even put the words in order to warn you of his ejaculation. You don't need one, the shots of his hot cum staining your fingers is enough. He's so messy with it even though he can't control it, his substance is everywhere. Your hands, his shorts, your lips, his abdomen. The expression of pure bliss on his face is so majestic that it overshadows the whole disaster he made.

Minho breathes heavily, uncoordinatedly, and you don't know if he's catching his breath to speak or to keep his sanity. To no one's surprise, he fails on the second option.

He reaches out his arm to take yours, and it's not as delicate as you'd expect. He pulls on it to make you stand up, and finally pushes you on top of him. Minho gives no fucks how sensitive he is for having just cum, he willingly makes you straddle his suffocated cock. You hold on to his shoulders, unprepared, but feeling the tingling between your legs intensify. The friction makes your panties get wet, and it makes him get hard again.

You sigh, lowering your head only to reach Minho's lips and capture them in a kiss. He reciprocates rushedly, hungry for your mouth that provides him with his own taste. His hands push your hips down on his, he seeks to turn you on until you can't take it anymore and beg him to fuck you.

But jokes on him, you are one step ahead this time.

You bite his bottom lip, pulling on it to break the kiss. Minho doesn't want to stop kissing you and it shows when a sharp complaint scratches his throat when you move away. You laugh, running your thumb over the bite. Your fingers climb up his face to wrap around his head and tangle in his hair. He’s still trying to catch his breath, and feeling the chill of your touch on the back of his neck makes it difficult for him. He feels dizzy, drunk on you. It will hurt his ego too much to admit that he is not in control, but that is already a problem for the Minho of the future.

“Do something, (name), please”.

You smile, loving how his voice sounds when he begs. “Should I? You look so cute like this, all desperate”.

As expected, even in this pathetic position, Minho doesn't pass it by. "Don't you ever call me cute again".

"I'll think about it while you tell me what you want me to do".

He squeezes your sides, losing his coolness. His fingers pull the band of your shorts so that you take the signal and get rid of them. You get up only for those seconds that it takes to remove the garment and Minho feels that he will die with your absence. He needs you close, he needs to feel you grinding on him. That's why when he grabs your arm again to pull you closer, he simultaneously grabs his cock and aligns it with your entrance as you sit down. You sink down on him so slowly, the stretch makes you gasp. Minho growls as well, he’s dejected. He has never gone beyond ejaculation, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He wants to abuse his limits with you.

It’s still hard to adjust to the feeling of being full that you are not so familiar with, you can’t help but clench around him with the intrusion. You rest your forehead against his, moving the long strands of his dark hair. Now, you pull these as if the pain is non-existent for the man below you. Minho pushes his hips up at feeling your walls squeezing him, his tip hits so deep inside you that it has you crying out. His palms circle your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh as if he could tear you apart.

You finally start to feel the burning dying, and you gulp thickly before demanding the answer to your question. "You didn't answer me, Minho", you remind him. “What do you want me to do?”

He throws his head back, breathing heavily. He looks down at you, dragging your hips so you can ride him as if your life depends on it.

“Just fuck me stupid, angel”, he breathes out. “Literally―, fuck me until I can’t take it anymore”.

10. THE HYPOCRISY.

It was predictable, only that everyone involved in the matter decided to pretend that it wasn't. Or at least ignore it until the road took another course.

The competition is finally tomorrow. These two weeks have felt eternal, but they have not come to an end. Not even to its climax. The last practice was aimed at each individual act being polished to unfold flawlessly. Minho, like the perfectionist that he is, stayed in the practice room after the coach gave you the go-ahead to go to sleep. It wasn't too late at night yet, so he took advantage of the time unlike you and Hyunjin ― who found out about Minho's decision and took it as his step forward. Clearly, the younger boy hasn't been aware of everything that has been going on, and that's why he invited you to meet him one last time before heading straight to bed. The message coming into your phone changed your plans in the blink of an eye. With slippers and a washed bare face, you knocked on his door.

The fact that you didn't worry about how you looked should already have been your first warning. The second one was that you should have entered his room excited, eager, feeling butterflies in your stomach to be alone with Hyunjin, but it wasn't like that. You went like you had something pending, like you were doing this to pay off a debt to yourself.

It started with a friendly chat, sitting on the bed, the phone being picked up to ask for room service, one or two drinks to diffuse the tension, and finally the closeness between both bodies. Everything was perfect, but not for you. Only for the poor boy who has wanted this moment from day one.

You don’t know how you reached this moment, Hyunjin is now supporting his weight on his forearm while lying on top of you. His free hand cups your waist, drawing your chest to his since you're too far away for his liking. His lips merge with yours, they melt with your warm tongue. You want to enjoy it, you really want to feel like this is the big step with him, but you just don't feel anything.

His lips leave yours to trail to your jaw, press below your ear, down to your neck, but they stop before moving further down. Rather, you stop them. The impulse leads your hand towards Hyunjin's chest, and suddenly presses it. You push him away gently, you’re so embarrassed that you can't even look him in the eye.

Hyunjin not only worries about your reaction, but he’s so confused by your silence after moving him that he resorts to asking about it himself.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?", he hesitates in a whisper. He sounds terrified. Everything was flowing so smoothly, he doesn't know where he screwed it up.

"No, of course not", you reply. You close your eyes to take courage, and raise your head. You meet Hyunjin's gaze and feel so sorry for ruining this that you can't help but hold his face in your hands as if your next words will break him. "You are not the problem".

The disappointment on his face is more than evident. You don't have to explain further for Hyunjin to know what is going on. Exactly what he feared that would happen, happened. He sighs, assuming he made his move too late.

"You're dating Minho, aren't you?"

The inspection he does with his eyes is overwhelming to you. He’s trying to take all the hints that he missed to put the puzzle together. It was right in front of his eyes and he couldn't see it. He still doesn't, so he waits for your answer.

"No, and that's even worse", you whisper now. Your hands clenched into fists, totally frustrated with this situation straight out of a movie. "We're not dating at all".

Hyunjin is quick in reading the room. He may have been innocent in thinking he had a chance, but if there's anything he's not, it’s stupid. He can see what’s in front of him.

With a sad expression, he says out loud what you have not yet accepted yourself. "But you feel something for him".

You don't know what you're supposed to say, but you just don't say a thing. You don't deny it, you don't contradict it, you don't question it. And unfortunately, that is more than enough for Hyunjin to understand that nothing will happen between you two tonight. Not tonight, and probably never.

Of course you feel something for Minho, you are so ridiculously attracted to him. You are a sucker for the way he makes you feel that you can’t enjoy intimacy with other boys.

Hyunjin sighs again, retracting his movements and getting up from his position. He takes your hand to help you sit on the mattress, collapsing next to you to solve the problem like two adults. Talking.

"I mean, it's not like I didn't see it coming", he admits. "But I still wanted to try making a move on you".

"And I apologize for that".

“You do?”

“I… made you believe something could happen between us. It was really hypocritical of me to give you high hopes when I didn't even know what I was doing”.

He just shrugs.

"It's okay. You don't have to take all the blame on yourself, I should have caught the hint when I saw him interested in you".

You rub your arm, a little nervous with the fact that you have to agree with him. Hyunjin shows no signs of anger or rejection, but you still feel bad about the way you came to this end. Both look around, unable to sustain eye contact, wondering what to do next.

“He’s older… and something like a fuckboy that always gets his way”, he mumbles. “And now.. he made this awkward…”

“Yeah…”, you whisper, thinking of a way to change it. When you do, you snap your fingers as if a lightbulb lit up. "We can still talk about tomorrow's competition", you suggest. "Right?"

Hyunjin smiles sweetly. "Of course we can".

With a small laugh, he makes himself comfortable on the mattress, giving you room to do the same. He checks his watch to make sure the service hour isn't over, and he shoots you a look before diving into the whisper. “Do you want to order something else? It’s on me for the bad moment”.

A chuckle leaves your lips.

“Sure”, you smile, extending your hand to the phone. “But let's not get drunk. We don't want to wake up with a hangover".

And honestly, you should have followed your own advice.

11. THE CONSEQUENCES OF JEALOUSY.

The night should have been over as soon as you and Hyunjin cleared things up. You should have gone to sleep in your room, he should have gone to bed and rested well, and Minho should have been back before dawn. But none of the three things happened.

Minho knew from the moment he decided to stay after practice that he would sleep in his coach's room, which allowed you and Hyunjin the freedom to stay up uninterrupted. The extra booze added to the night was a good idea for the first few drinks, but not exactly the smartest. Not even you remembered your lousy resistance to soju until, after God knows how many bottles, you fell asleep on Hyunjin's shoulder. He really hadn't planned on disturbing your sleep, but seeing how much you consumed under his company, he felt guilty. He took on the responsibility of convincing you to take a shower, and he provided you with clean, comfortable clothing so you'd get plenty of sleep and rest for the big day.

As soon as the sunlight hit your face in the morning, you knew the big day had turned into shit.

You woke up without seeing Hyunjin nearby and with an aspirin next to a glass of water on the bedside table. You took it and headed to your room as soon as you realized where you were. If only you had known that this little action would trigger a disaster, you would have locked yourself until the night.

You opened the door and walked no more than five steps. Enough to run into Minho, who was just returning to his room like you. His eyes collide with your figure coming out of that peculiar place, and wearing that particular shirt that he already knows from having seen his roommate wear it. It only takes that split second after you evade him to connect the wires inside his head. You walked out of Hyunjin's room wearing one of his shirts and looking like you were gutted from last night.

What the fuck?

He turns around, grabbing your arm before you walk into your room. The light that hits your face as you spin punctures your head, your eyes hurt to even look Minho in the face.

However, his harsh voice brings your sight back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It is difficult for you to associate the question, you don’t understand what’s happening.

“What?”

"Have you spent the night with Hyunjin?"

“Yes”, you answer naively, knowing that you haven't done anything more than sleeping. But of course, Minho is interpreting the opposite. “Why?”, you gasp, totally disoriented.

“Why?”, he chuckles, offended. “Two days ago you were with me and now you are with him as if it had meant nothing?”

“You insisted that I had to learn how to be free with my sexual life”, you remind him of his educational sermon. "I had to understand what it was I wanted with him".

For you it’s obvious, it’s consistent. For Minho, it’s a nightmare.

"I did, but it wasn't for you to go and sleep with Hyunjin the next day!"

You can hear the anger in his voice. You can hear the frustration. Minho believed that he had already won this game, but he didn't count on the fact that you didn't set the guidelines in the first place. You open your eyes wide, battling the light and the excruciating migraine that isn't helped by Minho's booming voice hurting your sensitive eardrums. His expression doesn't look good. You tug on your arm to loosen his grip, and subtly move away from him. Your shoulders shrug, downplaying what is insignificant to you.

“Why do you care so much?”, you ask, considering that your meeting with Hyunjin was silly and harmless. "Are you jealous now?"

The word twists Minho's insides. He can't be jealous of something that doesn't belong to him, but that's precisely what makes him angry. You are not his.

"No, I'm not jealous", he lies blatantly. "I'm trying to understand what your intentions are but you won't let me because you act like a slut!"

Yes, he could have chosen a different word. And yes, he didn't.

“A slut?”, you repeat, surprised rather than offended. "I'm doing exactly what you taught me to do".

"This is not what I was referring to, (name)".

“And what was it then?”, you criticize, taking a step closer to him. "Didn't you teach me to live your free and uncompromising lifestyle to enjoy it without depending on a fool?"

“Yes, but I'm not the fool here! It's supposed to be Hyunjin!”

You blink repeatedly, silently. You can’t understand how that reasoning is coming from someone as astute as him. He sounds dumb.

"I got it, now that I am doing with you what you do with all the women on the planet, you disagree".

"It’s not like that".

"No, seriously. I get it,” you raise your hand, stopping him from getting close to you. "You're a fucking possessive asshole like everyone said you are".

And even though your tone is sarcastic, it hurts Minho like the first time you called him out. He tries to order the events and link everything that has brought you to this moment, and yet he doesn't understand how that night in the laundry room turned into this. He never thought that not understanding what he felt for you would translate into those words that escaped from your mouth without the slightest remorse.

Fucking-possessive-asshole. You just missed adding womanizer.

Minho gulps, his expression becomes serious. Yours, reflects utter disappointment. You can't believe he actually attacked you like that, giving you no space to explain what happened. And even worse, you can't believe that he doesn't even try to remedy it and gives up instantly.

His body language changes in an abrupt manner. His shoulders drop, his hands can't decide what gesture to make to speak. He just avoids your gaze.

"I’m sorry, you're right”, he sighs, feeling completely humiliated. "You're absolutely right".

He throws down his hand in the air like a flag marking the end of a battle, and turns around without further ado. He walks into his room and slams the door shut with a loud thud that startles you. You stand motionless, staring at the door with the phantom trail of Minho's figure that just disappeared. You are so confused, so lost. You don't understand how Minho jumped to the conclusion that you slept with Hyunjin nor why you didn't deny it to prevent this. But you feel so hurt by his reaction, especially since it was the product of a mistaken belief. You wonder what would have happened if you had actually taken the freedom of sleeping with Hyunjin to fulfill your whim.

The stress that such a discussion adds to you is the last thing you need. Your stomach pays the consequences, your gut twists and it doesn't help at all with the discomfort that the hangover gifted you when you woke up. As soon as you take a step in the direction of your room, you already feel that your entire nervous system is failing. The competition is a few hours away, and just thinking about it adds anxiety to the list of unpleasant emotions.

In these conditions you will make a fool of yourself.

The option of sleeping seduces you enough to rest until you have to get ready, which doesn’t mean it will be effective enough. The nap works to avoid reality for a couple of hours and get a little more sleep, but when you wake up from it, the effects of the hangover worsen.

It all happens in fast motion from the second you get in the van to travel to the competition venue. Your head doesn’t stop hurting and spinning. Minho's voice and Hyunjin's image follow you along with the staff as you pass from one corridor to another. You feel nausea clouding your vision from the first to the last moment. The lights hurt your sensitive eyes. Your body aches just from standing on the stage. Your hands sweat before the music track even starts playing, your head is pounding so hard you can swear your brain is about to explode. You don't remember how to start, if it wasn't for muscle memory your body wouldn't have started executing the choreography on its own. Everything is automatic, you have no awareness of what is really happening or what is at stake. At least not until your gaze lands on the side of the stage, and your eyes meet those of your peers. Not just Hyunjin, who you haven't seen since yesterday, but Minho. It’s at that moment that you remember that you have a number with him.

You manage to reach your final pose, hearing the seconds of silence that postpone the end of the song and anticipate the applause and response from the audience. It takes you a few seconds to react, and when you do it is abrupt and hasty. You realize you have to change your wardrobe and instantly head offstage without looking at or greeting anyone. Minho and Hyunjin watch you sneak past the staff, then look at each other. Exchanging that look, both can decipher that something is not right. Just one look, exactly what it took you to mess everything up.

Hyunjin followed with his number, and even though Minho was free to talk to you before you had to perform together, he didn't. Maybe if he had, he could have prevented the disaster. Perhaps if he apologized, he could have saved the presentation. If only he hadn't waited until you were both positioned onstage to say something, it might have relieved some of your stress.

“(Name)”, you hear the whisper in your ear before the song starts. "We need to talk after this".

You don't even have time to answer once the track coming out of the speakers forces you to move. Minho's request bounces off the walls of your head, echoing non-stop. It resonates so loud that it overshadows the music. It adds to the pain and doesn't allow you to focus the way you need to. You can't think clearly. Your steps begin to fail. Your sense of coordination is nil. Your eyes meet Minho's as you make that spin that looked defenseless two weeks ago, and now is all it takes for your body to give up. Not only do you trip and fall before Minho can grab you, but the overwhelming feeling of making a fool of yourself in front of so many people erupts the urge to vomit. You get up as fast as you can and with the greatest embarrassment spreading through your veins, you flee the stage.

Everything you have been working and striving for months, gets thrown away in just one mistake. The only reason you're in this city, this venue, has completely lost its meaning. You don't even think about your dance partner, your coach, your academy. The humiliation turns you selfish.

In just minutes, everything becomes insignificant. It went from being the most important night of your year to being the most pathetic one. Your forehead is now pressed on the toilet, you still haven't made the effort to wash your mouth after vomiting your stress out. You’ve already lost track of how long you've been there, you’re just thinking about how you will go back to your city and never talk to anyone else from the academy again. Despite being dehydrated you still have water in your body to cry and let all the frustration out.

This is definitely not right, and it gets even worse when you hear footsteps approaching. You try to contain your sounds so as not to draw attention, but you don't succeed. The person on the other end literally sits on the floor to hear you.

“(Name)?”, asks that all-too-familiar voice.

As if to top it off, Minho is now behind the door. You press your palm to your mouth to become silent but it's just to no avail. Minho has already talked to the security people and he knows that you locked yourself in that bathroom. He sighs, hating to interrupt you in such vulnerability, he feels compelled to do so.

“(Name), I know you're there. I can hear you sobbing".

His voice is a whisper and you can still hear it because of how quiet the environment has become.

"Go away, Minho", you demand in a brittle voice. "I’m so embarrassed".

“I don’t care, I told you we should talk. Let's talk".

"I don't want to talk, I want to go home and get buried 8 feet under the ground!"

Minho gets into a comfortable position, leaning his back against the door to settle into place. He won't leave until he gets to talk to you.

"Forget the competition, that's not what I want to talk about".

“Nothing is more important than the competition right now!”, you express angrily, banging your hand on the toilet. "This wouldn't even have happened if I got into college like my mom demanded and didn't waste my time on this dancing stupidity!"

You can't see him ducking his head in sorrow, but you can hear him sigh. He sounds stressed, and is uncooperative with the situation.

"Don't say that, (name)".

“How do you want me not to say it? I wasn't able to take it seriously because of an immature affair!"

He doesn't talk this time, he can sense that you have things to add by the way you take a deep breath to continue talking. Of course he doesn't expect to hear such cruel things.

"I don't even want to continue dancing, you took away my desire to do what I enjoy the most by putting your dick in this!"

“I'm sorry,” he says in a low, embarrassed voice. His head flops against the door, he feels so sorry that it got to this point that it clearly wasn't part of his plan. "I really do".

"You don't, you just feel guilty that I ended up in this deplorable state".

Minho clicks his tongue. He doesn't like words put in his mouth. "Of course I feel guilty, it wasn’t my intention to go this far!"

"And what the hell was your intention then?"

“You hurt my feelings, (name)”, he avows. His words tangle on his tongue, the honesty feels like a trammel. "I acted cold and wanted to find a way to get back to you to get your attention but it all went to shit".

You look back in the direction of the door. You feel so offended.

“Did I hurt you? You played with my feelings and my career, and the one who gets hurt is you?”

"Well I admit I was just playing at first, I didn't think you would care too much and it would escalate to this!"

“Why wouldn't I care about it?”, you finally snap.

You get up from your position but do nothing more than sit by the door so that your voice is clearer to expose your naive and wounded heart. Minho hears your movements and fears of whatever he will hear next.

“Please”, in the most pathetic voice, you beg. “Just stop for a moment to think that for you it was one more time, but for me it was my first time. I never had the opportunities or the people to feel comfortable and I had finally gotten to be free with you”.

Minho feels the guilt digging into his chest and making a hole. Now that you put it that way, it sounds terrible. Unfortunately for him, you're not done yet.

“You did exactly what I told you I didn't like you to do. You took advantage of my inexperience with all this stupid game of freedom and then accused me of behaving like a slut!”

"That's not true, don't twist everything up".

“You are the one who twists everything and ruins it all!”

Your sobs come back, Minho can only close his eyes tight. That painful feeling in his stomach when he hears you cry is so foreign to him. He didn't want this to turn into an argument, but there just doesn't seem to be a point. At least, not until you drop the big confession.

You hide your face in your hands, blurting out what crosses your mind in such a vulnerable state. “Look what you’ve done for thinking I slept with Hyunjin”, you babble.

Minho suddenly frowns. He heard perfectly what you said, and that's why the confusion whips him. He turns his head as you have been doing, trying to elicit an explanation from you with telepathy. Now, cautiously pressing his hands to the ground as if your voice might pierce the door, he asks the crucial question.

"What are you talking about?"

And you answer, it’s a minor detail for you. "I didn't sleep with Hyunjin yesterday, Minho".

"What?!"

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain it!"

Minho feels despair. His eyes go everywhere, the hole in his chest gets deeper. A mix of uncertainty and anxiety washes over him at not knowing how badly he screwed it up.

“Explain it to me now!”, he demands.

You drag your hands out of your face so that the words are heard clearly and not distorted.

"We just kissed and I realized that he wasn't the one I wanted to be with".

"You can't be serious right now", he growls, banging his head against the door.

“I am, dammit! We cleared things during the night and decided to have a drink to get through the awkward moment. That was it''.

"I don't get it", he exhales. “What about his shirt? Why did you sleep in our room if you quickly put an end to everything?”

“I got drunk thinking about you and took a shower in your room so I could go to sleep sober, Hyunjin only lent me his clothes and let me sleep there so I could be safe!”

The explanation shakes him no more strongly than the realization. And no more than the last words he hears coming from the other side of the door before you break down in tears again.

"But of course you reacted like an idiot by interpreting the first thing you saw and ruined everything between us!"

Your sobs push him into silence. His thoughts inside his head turn so loud. He realizes how far he is from having done the right thing. It was all his fault from the beginning to the very end.

Minho has really screwed everything up.

12. THE REALIZATION.

Going back on your own and never letting people around you know about you again sounded like a good idea yesterday. Today, when you have no other transportation than the van you're sitting in, it doesn't sound as good anymore. The weather seemed to adapt to your sentimental situation, the rain now soaks the windows gloomily from the outside. You watch through it as you wait for the driver to arrive. There's literally two hours left for him to do so, but there's no other place in the entire city where you can hide. You want to be totally isolated and away from everything.

You need to think about what you will do when you get home. You need to relax, reflect, and act maturely after such immaturity.

Your earphones help you filter out negative thoughts with some music. Despite not paying full attention to your surroundings because of this, you still notice with no difficulty when someone opens the door and climbs in next to you. You remove one of the ear pieces, knowing exactly who it is without even seeing his face. There is no one else that needs to have a talk with you. Now that he raises his head and looks at you through his dripping hoodie, you feel the same discomfort as yesterday. You blink silently, waiting for him to say something. He simply doesn’t.

"I want to be alone".

"I can't leave you alone after what happened”, contradicts Minho. His words mix with the lyrics of the song in your left ear. "We're not done talking".

"I already told you everything I had to tell you".

"But I didn’t", he insists. “Please, (name). We can't go home and pretend nothing happened".

You take the remaining earphone and rip it off its cord, the music finally disappearing. The expression on Minho's face is serious.

“Isn't that what you asked me to do the first time we kissed? Don't get tangled up, don't worry about anything other than to have fun for a while”.

"This was more than just a little while, don't you think?"

You stay silent again. You can't read the emotions on his face even though your eyes scan each of his features, unlike Minho who only focuses on your glassy eyes. He reaches out his hand boldly towards your face, feeling the urge to wipe away the treacherous tear that fell down your cheek. He doesn't want to see you cry.

“Why do you even insist?”, you mumble. "I ruined the competition for both of us and made things awkward for everyone".

“Because we'll have a hundred more of those competitions to screw up. But I only have one chance to apologize to you".

You sigh at how dramatic it all feels. You brush away Minho's hand, lowering your head in embarrassment. Minho knows that it’s time to confront what happened before the stupid competition that is now a thing of the past.

“You were absolutely right about what you said”, he assures.

You bit on your bottom lip to prevent it from pursuing into a pout. You don’t even care about being right, not now.

“About you being a fucking possessive asshole?”

Minho chuckles with the way you say it. “Yeah”, he agrees. "But also that I didn’t stop to think that all this was not a game for you".

The intrigue about what you hear makes you raise your head to observe him. Your hair gets in the way, and of course he's the one brushing it out with his fingers. He tucks it behind your ear, staring at you.

"I should have been more responsible because it was important to you", he states.

"Forget it already. It becomes more humiliating if you make a big deal out of it”.

“I can't forget about it. And less if everything went to hell because I accused you of something that was not true”.

Minho places the hand you pushed away on your leg. He wants to test the waters and make sure there's still something inside of you that wants him close. Something that will allow him to pick up where you’ve left and move forward. You've already stopped him before, this doesn't seem to be the case. And that's enough for him.

"Please let me make it up to you".

Despite your wordlessly consenting, you callously deny.

“You can't”.

“Why not?”, he questions remaining calm. He’s obviously disappointed.

"Because there is nothing you can say that can make up for the way you hurt me".

Minho imitates the pout in a much more exaggerated way so that you feel sorry for him. The embarrassed expression on your face seems to reflect that you find it funny instead.

He nods his head to take your words in, and as expected, he contradicts them. "Okay, then let me fix it with actions".

You knew at that moment what was going to happen, and yet it didn't cross your mind that it was a terrible idea. Minho brings his free hand up to your chin, lifting your head to level it with his. Your eyes penetrate through his before falling to his lips that are quite obvious with his intentions. He gives you a second for you to move away, to push him, to curse him, but you don't. And he kisses you.

You know how much of a fool you are. You're such an idiot. You're the biggest, dumbest chick. But certainly, you're still the innocent girl that likes him.

Minho deepens the kiss, sliding his hand up to your jaw so he can get closer and alternate the movement of his lips. It feels relieving after such a stressful experience, but you’re holding onto that stress that you can't reciprocate properly and Minho notices it. He pulls away and opens his eyes, keeping them in your mouth.

"You're not kissing me back", he exposes. His hand takes yours, bringing it to his shoulder in hopes of encouraging you. "Touch me, feel how my body gets when I kiss you again".

You feel weak. It’s not your integrity that makes you hesitate to continue. Neither is your dignity, if it wasn’t clear enough. You lower your head, and slip out of his grasp. "This is not okay".

"Why not? Some things are solved this way, (name)”.

You close your eyes, and sigh in anticipation of your concern. You know you'll sound silly. "No, I mean, someone could walk by and see us.

.Minho doesn't want to laugh in this situation, but he chuckles. You sound so cute worrying about something so small. "The windows are tinted", he informs the small but obvious detail.

Before you can even complain, Minho grabs your phone and earphones from your lap. He tosses them aside, casually, and leans into your side so he can wrap his arm around your waist. You naturally slide into the seat, looking up at him while he makes you lean under his figure. You have no doubt that the reason everything comes out smoothly is because Minho is the one in control now.

"No one will see us even though I'm dying for them to do it", he whispers to pick up the conversation.

His lips sneak up to your neck so stealthily that you only notice when you feel them on your skin. Your eyes close, the wet feeling of his mouth on your most sensitive spot bewitches you. Minho can tell you’re relaxing, so he takes advantage of that to get close to your ear.

"No one will see us together even though you don't want anyone to associate you with me ever".

Your answer gets stuck on your tongue as you feel the brush of his teeth on your earlobe, coldly calculated after spitting out the accusation. He knows how to manipulate words so well that he inevitably has you doing what he wants. Denying them.

“I'm not as sure about that as I used to be”, you stammer, melting in his grasp.

Minho smirks, cockily. He lifts his head and stares at you, admiring how pretty you look under him. His teeth land on his lower lip to drag it, an involuntary gesture after seeing you being the best girl for him. You breathe heavily with his gaze on you, you feel nervous like every single time.

“I’ll believe you only because you look so honest and innocent right now”, he mumbles as if he had read your thoughts. His free hand caresses your side, enjoying the contact he thought he lost. "You look so pure just like when I first kissed you".

The word tingles inside you. Minho wastes no time and presses his lips to your neck again, strays down your throat and over your chest. You know he loves to take everything as if it belonged to him, and that's what he does by squeezing your hips between his wide hands. He inhales, feeling like it's been too many hours without you to stay sane. He feels so foolish to have believed you could give what is his to someone else.He licks his lips and slides his warm fingers under your shirt to touch your bare skin.

"I really corrupted you, didn't I?", he smirks, so proud of his acts. “I was your first time, your second one, your third one…”

His hands switch paths and move down to your legs, taking hold of your thighs only to press them against his waist. Your legs tangle as if they were meant to be glued together. Feeling the friction with your cunt makes him hiss. Every little movement reminds Minho of how much he has achieved.

“Shit, angel, I ruined you”.

Yes, the only answer to that is yes. But the one that comes out of your mouth is a whimper as you feel his knee rub between your legs. Minho is relieved to hear that sweet sound again. He feels your hesitant hand not knowing where to grab him and decides to take it. He carries it over your head and holds you in place with the slightest of force. He pecks your lips gently, keeping your attention on him. You feel that the air inside the vehicle has become so hot. Your heart beats fast, it speeds up when Minho intertwines his fingers with yours. He knows that look in your eyes so well.

"Now I understand why you let me go so far", he says out loud. “Because you ended up entangled. You like me, you love when I give you all my attention”.

You would like to defend yourself, but you can't. You feel short of breath, you feel that whatever comes out of your mouth will be incoherent in trying to deny the truth. Minho holds your jaw in his hand, he forces you to stare at him as he exposes you.

“You heard so many things about me with other girls and were delighted to know that you became my favorite one. Didn’t you?"

Your eyebrows pucker. You're so ashamed to admit it, yet you give him the faintest nod. He denies with his head, hissing in regret. His gaze travels down your body, checking out everything he has available to devour. The hand on your jaw follows the path his eyes took, his index finger traces the line of your lower stomach and hooks into the band of your jeans.

“I acted like a jerk even though I had you all to myself… You really let me be the first to teach you how to enjoy all this, and I was an ingrate".

His fingers intrude between your jeans and underwear, pressing into your covered folds. The warm, wet feeling doesn't take Minho by surprise, he knows you’re easy to arouse. It's almost like he's the only person in your entire life who's done it.

“This is what my voice alone does to you”, he laughs after recognizing it, burying his face in your neck. His fingers climb higher so he can focus on your clit, slowly circling it. “You are so ready to take me at any moment”.

His words make you squirm under him. He's right, your body is ready for him. Your hands cling to his bicep, channeling your desperation as you feel his fingers press into your hole.

“I need you”, you whine.

“I know you do, doll”, he whispers to keep his voice minimal. He brushes his nose against your neck, breathing warmly under your ear. "I'll give you anything you ask for if you promise me you'll be mine back home".

Oh, you are a lost case.

“Lee Minho, you fucking bastard”, you curse in the hottest way the named bastard has ever heard. "You would have to be an idiot not to realize that I am already all yours".

His deep, childish laugh sends chills all over your spine. Minho nods, licking his lips victoriously. He nimbly moves your underwear aside, and slides his digits inside you. Your nails dig into his arm, it feels so out of place yet so good. He pumps them so easily thanks to your wetness, you make it pleasurable even for him.

"Do I deserve you to make it so easy for me after how bad I was with you?"

"I don't care if you deserve it or not", you blurt out.

"Of course you don't", he wrinkles his nose. “You just want me to make you feel good because I got you used to that”.

Minho curls his fingers to emphasize his words, and your walls flutter around them. He bites his lips, abusing that spot he already knows it’s your weakness. The increase in your moans is predictable for him, he feels the success of hearing them just when he was expecting them.

"I turned you into the most spoiled girl, didn't I?"

You nod decisively this time. Your head burrows back into the seat with each pump of his fingers that ripples waves of pleasure into your core. He smiles, contemplating how pretty you look.

"I'm going to teach you how to be the best of all then".

The emptiness strikes you after his words, Minho withdraws his fingers and relinquishes the hold on your hand. Instead, he pulls on it to help you get up. He literally spins you on the spot with a flick of his arm. The other one surrounds your figure and makes your back stick to his chest. It's romantic, even, because it feels like a dance step.

“Be good for me”, he orders as he sneaks his hands towards your front. “Let me take this off”.

You let his fingers undo the button on your jeans and lower them just to press his hand on your back. He adapts you to the foreign position so naturally, your back arches for the first time to bend in front of someone. It makes you feel the blood rise to your face, even more so when Minho pulls your pants to expose your pussy to him. His hands caress the soft skin of your thighs, they hold you thinking of the infinity of times that he’ll be able to enjoy this view. He slips out of his pants just enough to free his cock, stroking it slowly. He gets so hard just seeing your soaking entrance waiting for him ― thankfully, he only has to shift his weight on his knee to align his head with it. Both hands grip your sides and pull your hips toward his, his tip slips between your folds with no help from them. You're as close as required.

“Do you feel what you do to me, angel?”, he asks. "My body is also always ready for you".

And just as he states the evidence, Minho pushes his head with just two of his fingers, thrusting forward to bury his whole length into you. He fills you softly, groaning just by how tight you are. You hug every single inch the right way, he needs a few seconds to adapt to how good you feel to finally roll his hips. His position makes the mere thrusting reach so deep, you don’t have any other option than press your face into the seat.

It is so wrong, and somehow he manages to make you feel like everything is falling back into place. His hips move so sensually and gently in contrast to the grip of his fingers around your flesh. He spreads your cheeks with his free hand just for the curiosity of seeing how your pussy swallows him over and over again, it makes him sigh. The way he has your spine arched and your knees trembling unsteadily drives him crazy.

He fills you with long thrusts, pushing his hips up just as he bottoms to press into that spot inside you that has you clenching every time. Minho just doesn't fail, he doesn't miss a beat, he doesn't get tired.

“This is so wrong”, you choke out. Your eyes are so tightly closed that you feel your head hurt. "Fuck, this is a madness―"

You can't even say your words properly because each one gets dragged with a different moan. Minho growls, he feels your walls suffocating him. They squeeze him so fiercely, and once he grabs your arm and pulls you up against his chest, it's even harder to bear. Your breath hitches with the new position, it compels you to sink into his cock on your own. You screech, dumbly, he’s so deep that you feel his tip rearranging your insides. You look down at your abdomen and swear you can see the small bulge over the obscene picture.

Minho still has something to say.

“Is it, baby? Is it really that bad that all we do is have sex?”, he thrusts up slowly, making you aware of how massive the stretching really is.

His free hand fumbles up with your chest and kneads your closest breast under his fingers. He wants to touch everything, feel everything after believing that he would lose it forever.

"There's nothing wrong with just desiring each other", he adds.

And it’s at that moment that you understand what really was, and what is happening between you and Minho. You throw your head back to rest it on his shoulder, making eye contact. You feel like your soul is getting sucked through his gaze.

"No", you shake your head in denial. "It's wrong to desire each other so much that we can't even control it".

Minho’s hips jerk with your indirect confession. The sudden push sends your hand flying to the window. The mark of your fingers on the misted glass is just one more proof that your words are true. The little jump you unconsciously gave felt so good that you instinctively repeat it, raising your hips and sinking down on his cock again. He remains still, completely forgetting what you've said.

“Shit, I can't even think straight when that tight pussy of yours makes me feel this good”, he curses.

His hand on your chest moves up to your neck, circling your throat. The other one goes down towards your hips, joining your movements to make them even more effective. And cleaner. He's moaning lowly, raspily, straight to your ear and it makes your thighs tremble. Minho is your vice, your addiction, your biggest and most difficult sin to forgive under God’s eyes.

"Do you really want to forget about this? Do you want to go home and pretend we're not meant for each other, huh?"

You can only shake your head to answer. Your fingers quiver at the window, they distort the shape of your hand into an incomprehensible one. You feel the sweat on your forehead and your breathing hitching, you know you’re getting closer to your orgasm second by second. Minho controls your hip movements so well that he elicits small whimpers between each one. His hand around your neck subtly moves up to your jaw, turning your head so you're staring directly into his eyes.

"I asked you to be good, doll", he reminds you, his voice sounding as breathless as you are. "Answer to me".

Your hand closes around his wrist, your walls contract harder. “Uh, agh, no! I don’t want to!”

Minho bites his lip, fighting the urge to kiss yours. "Then tell me you love me".

Shame rises through your body at the same speed as heat. If your cheeks weren't already burning you could dare to say that what turned them red was Minho's demand. No matter how much he has shaped your behavior, there is still a fine difference between the two. He can say anything regardless of the weight his words have, and manipulate it according to your reaction.

Your hot breath fans over his lips, you're having the hardest time saying three dumb words that, for Minho, aren't dumb at all.

"Say it", he claims when you take more than a second. His hand on your hip sneaks up to your front, and he complicates things further by dragging it around your pelvic bone. His fingers travel to your lower stomach, the outline of your womb, and down to your sex. "Say you love my fingers, my cock, all of me".

Whereas you definitely do, the rubbing between your folds won't let you speak. His fingertips return to your clit, circling it over and over again until only inconsistencies come out of your mouth. Minho smiles because he knows you don't have to answer to agree with him.

"Only then can I make sure that none of this was in vain, that you’ll actually be mine when we leave this city".

You dig your nails into his hand that is still holding your jaw. Your walls twitch around him, and once he feels it, he makes solid circles with his fingers on your clit. Your thighs jerk, they become completely unstable while chasing your high. Minho doesn't stop, he finds the exact pressure and speed as he watches your features contract in pleasure. He thought that the most beautiful image he had seen so far was that of having you under him, but now that he has seen you directly in the eyes while you cum around him, he’s not so sure anymore.

The high-pitched whine that rips through your throat is just a sign that you can't hold it in any longer. Minho's eyebrows shrink over his forehead as he feels your walls throbbing around him. He can't help but drop his head and press your foreheads together, causing both of you to close your eyes. Noses touching and split lips gasping for air from both sides.

“You’re a freak”, you breathe out. There’s no other word that can describe exactly what you’re thinking at this moment. That same word you thought about when he showed you just one of the few things he wanted to do to you with his mouth.

“Thank you”, he smiles with his eyes still closed.

He's so proud of hearing it, but he’s also used to such an adjective. His fingers don’t stop despite the criticism that he doesn’t take as such. Your hand forcefully grabs his and tries to restrain his movements, achieving only to slow them down. He lets the euphoria of your high burn down little by little, breathing heavily on your face. He’s still buried so warmly inside you and feels that if you just move an inch, you will milk him dry. Sadly for his scented and clean clothes, your hand sneaks down to his thigh for support. You give him a short squeeze to get his attention, little realizing the effect your touch has on his sensitive nervous system. His hips roll up lightly, but they make you whimper.

“It wasn’t a compliment!”, you clarify your previous comment. “But ff―fuck, I do love you, your fingers, your cock, everything about you!”

Minho opens his eyes just to see the fucked up expression decorating your features. Your hand goes up to his face, holding his head close so he doesn't pull away. There is no second thought running through your head as you let your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened strands of hair. You can only confirm one thing that you had already suspected from the first moment that you innocently gave yourself to him.

Gaze locked in his lips, you share it out loud. “No matter how much I try, you’re so fucking hard to hate”.

Minho licks his lips firmly. He doesn't close the distance to kiss you. No, he literally giggles childishly. “I love you too, angel of mine”, he whispers. “We’re gonna have so much fun at home”.

His head drops lower and hides into your neck, inhaling in your scent to focus on something other than how pathetically he’s being edged. You haven't lost track of it, in fact, you're so aware of how intensely he's spasming inside you that you roll your hips shortly to help him. Minho hisses, picking up right where the feeling was forming before. All of his senses are so overstimulated that it doesn't take you more than a few slips to hear him moan in your neck. He inevitably nibbles the skin, trying to contain the real sound that would come out of his mouth while creaming your insides. His thick shots spread out to the point of leaking out of your hole, that it’s still suffocating him. You gasp with the wet sensation, feeling so filthy. So dirty.

“Oh my God, look at the mess you made―”, you blurt, looking down. The modesty hits on you for the thousandth time. “How are you even going to clean all this up?”

Minho laughs, patting your thigh. He’s still feeling playful after all. "I won't", he mumbles. "I'll let our dance partner, coach and driver see you covered in my cum".

The sigh that comes out of your mouth is dramatic, but it's genuine. Of course you couldn't expect anything else coming from Minho. You hurriedly slip out of him, feeling completely exposed to your surroundings. You hear his complaint by moving way too roughly on his sensitive member, but it's the least he deserves for being so vulgar. You move to the side, adjusting your clothes as if you were about to run out of a motel hysterically after having an affair with your lover.

Minho flops down on the seat as well, removing the hoodie he's wearing over his head. You catch a glimpse of him, contemplating how ridiculously attractive he looks with his hair falling into his eyes. The reddish hue of his lips is reflected around his cheeks, which only give him an unreal beauty in such an unethical scene you two had just starred.

He tidies up his outfit just like you did, positioning the removed garment on top of his pants with no intention of finding another solution soon. "This will work for now".

You have no doubt that it will, because none of you will get out of this car. Minho reaches out his arm to take yours, showing that he's not done with you.

"Come here", he whispers so softly that you allow yourself to be drawn away, trusting that nothing bad will happen from now on. He positions you on top of him, feeling that he hasn't held you close enough as he wanted previously. He needs to see your face, your beautiful eyes in front of him, seducing him to tell you things he hasn't said to any girl before. "You don’t regret letting me be your first experience, right?", he asks in a tone of voice you've never heard before.

It is a tone that exposes the fear he feels to hear your answer. You shift on your weight to sit comfortably, encircling his shoulders with your arms. You free one of your hands to the front and smooth his tousled hair, seeing his eyes with clarity. They are expecting reciprocity. And you give it to him by shaking your head.

"No", you emphasize your gesture. "Even if you're a freak, I don't regret agreeing to that".

His hands encircle your lower back, holding you in his arms. He is too immersed in his thoughts to laugh at your comment. The corners of his lips barely rise.

"Do you think I can be your first sexual partner, then?"

There aren't many answers that may be hanging on the tip of your tongue. Still, Minho feels that he has risked too much.

"Or you could slap me right now and run away".

You have no choice but to snort at his clarification, remembering those words from the first night the two of you had an intimate encounter. If someone had predicted that all of this was going to happen that night, you're not sure you would have believed them.

Minho's lips falling into a pout invite you to press yours against them before you give him an answer. You feel how his jaw relaxes and he lets himself be carried away by the enchantment of your mouth, which entices him to deepen the kiss himself. Minho regrets at that moment each and every one of the mouths that he has kissed before meeting you, because he realizes that none of these kisses have been worth it.

Your taste is such a sweet vice. He never wants to stop kissing you if it were possible. That’s why he is not the one who separates from your lips, instead, you move away so as not to leave things unfinished. You hold his face in your hands, taking the break you needed to settle the thoughts in your head. You do want Minho to be your first sexual partner.

"Why would I slap you?", is what you say instead of explicitly accepting it.

"Because I made the same huge mistake you made".

You laugh. The smile that spreads across your lips takes on what you both feared at first. What you two avoided and denied at all costs while immersing in that jacuzzi for the first time, is now a reality.

"You got tangled”.

Minho can't deny your accusation, and not because it's absolutely true, but because the movement that draws attention through the window makes both turn your heads in that direction. The image of the umbrella being opened and revealing the coach walking out the hotel’s door with one of his suitcases is clear. You know that he’s possibly approaching to put it in the glove compartment. Minho has no choice but to wrap his arms around your middle, hugging you close to him and pressing you against his body to keep you as attached to him as possible before you get interrupted.

It is a fact. Lee Minho was your first time. He has uncovered a new side of you. He has taught you to experiment on sex, and as if that was’t enough, he has corrupted you. But it is even more evident that he has not been able to follow his one and only rule.

He sacrifices his pride and uses all his will to confirm your words in a small voice.

"I absolutely did".

EXTENDED AUTHOR'S NOTE ( ! ) thank you so much for reading, you don't know how much i enjoyed writing this fic and how much it inspired me to start writing other things that are already on the way. you may or may not know that i was on a hiatus due to my mental health, and for the past few weeks i've taken the time to come back and finish hard work like this.

thank you for giving me the space to share what i like to do, i would love to read your opinions about this fic. i will appreciate them all as much as i appreciate your interactions. i'm so happy that you love this blog as much as i do. stay, let's share many other fics, i'll do my best from this side !

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happiness-of-the-pursuit · 12 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @kiwiana-writes for the tag!! I did this back in like... October, and a LOT has changed since then lol

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

299,988 (though this includes 110,000 from the co-written PJO AU and 2,000 words from Manu's fic that I podficced to)

What fandoms do you write for?

Only RWRB for now, though never say never to others. I recently read Check, Please! and I've had some thoughts, but I have far too many WIPs for RWRB to write them rn. Also I have some ideas for The Pairing, but again, I have... so many RWRB wips...

Top five fics by kudos:

Longer Than Most | 26K, trans Henry accidental pregnancy (also this is how I found out it had become my top kudos-ed fic AH)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair | 7K, YouTube interview

Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) | 6K, epistolary roommates

Claremont 2008 | 28K, canon divergence where Ellen gets elected in 2008, childhood friends to lovers

(Dil)Do It Yourself | 17K, meet cute at a DIY dildo workshop

Do you respond to comments?

I really try to. But. I have gotten quite behind recently. I would love to catch up but it's just a bit overwhelming at the moment.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really have any angsty endings?? but a fic @affectionatelyrs and I are working on is going to have an ambiguous ending and my joke is that someone should the version of it where things take the angsty route

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mostly write happy endings, but I am going to say that Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) is the happiest because it's kinda the tropiest

Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, but I've gotten one or two weird comments, or comments asking about updates.

Do you write smut?

I do! (this is one of the things that's changed since the fall)

Craziest crossover:

The closest I've gotten to a crossover is the PJO AU, but that's not even an actual crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! Super Six and the Siren's Call with @inexplicablymine and @read-and-write- was the first, and then I wrote Let Me inside (I Want to Get to Know You) with @affectionatelyrs. I also did the podficcing of the voice notes for love has a voice (and it's yours) by Manu. I've also got a couple more projects coming up with Jamie also.

All time favorite ship?

Well that I've written for, FirstPrince :)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Unfortunately I don't know if I'll ever finish Baby's First Pride because I've grown a ton as a writer since then and I would want to redo the old chapters and that just isn't all the compelling to me anymore...

What are your writing strengths?

I fucking hate this question. But I am going with dialogue and humor (and humorous dialogue) which has been co-signed by others so I feel less weird about saying this.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I would like to be able to keep smut more concise at times, because it always turns into a Big Scene but it doesn't always need to be a Big Scene. And I've been trying to work on a particular style of writing which is a bit more uhhh snappy? I don't know how to describe it. But that's still a huge work in progress, because I always get more rambly than I want.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I definitely try to include it for the characters in RWRB who speak other languages, and when I do I lean on my friends who speak those languages as a native speaker.

First fandom you wrote in?

Officially: RWRB. For myself: HP.

Favorite fic you've written?

Honestly it's always whatever I'm working on at the moment, which is a couple of WIPs: Fire Island WIP, Parasocial Relationship AU with @affectionatelyrs, and my Big Bang fic come to mind.

But really I want to know what y'all's favorite fic of mine is!!!!

I'll tag 20 people, sorry if anyone's done this recently, but in case anyone wants to go again: @mainstreamelectricalparade @14carrotghoul @anincompletelist @littlemisskittentoes @gay-flyboys

and @songliili @gayrootvegetable @leojfitz @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

and @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @captainjunglegym @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise

and @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bribumblebee @nocoastposts @magicandarchery @itsmaybitheway!!!

#20 questions for fic writers #tag game #happinessofthepursuit writes

28 notes · View notes

beelmons · 1 year

Text

love comes in moments.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Rating: Mature, 13+. Tags: Angst, no happy ending, Reid!POV, slow burn if you squint Word count: 6,772 Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid writes a memoir about the 15 years he spent by your side, and everything you went through since the moment you joined the BAU. A/N: I wanted to feel utter pain, so I wrote it. Hopefully you will suffer with me. Also, this hasn't been proof read, so things might change a bit during the week as I re-read it. This fic ended up having an aftermath with an slightly happier ending, you can read it here Heavily inspired by these two songs: 1 , 2 Tag list: @hey-dw @cassiemartzz

“Entry 1: The humble beginnings.

I still remember the day you first came through the doors of the unit. Shoulders down, your stare facing the floor, walking slightly behind Gideon. You were nervous, at the least, but if your body spoke as loudly as I was guessing, terrified would have been a more accurate word.

I couldn’t shake your hand, the germophobia wasn’t always nice to me, but you didn’t care. You understood. You faked a high-five, and just like that we had our own little inside joke. I had made a new friend within thirty seconds of meeting her; that was a first, but silly me, twenty-something and naïve, I couldn’t notice right away that a woman like you was meant to be many “firsts”, and even greater “onlys.”

“She’ll be your partner, be nice.” those were Hotch’s words.

Not until much later would I have come to realize the weight of that warning. Trained eyes could reach everything I wasn’t able to. I wonder if you noticed the utter adoration that man had for you, as a subordinate, as a friend, as a companion. Aaron always had that eagle-like eye to spot people who needed him just as much as he needed them. Emily and Derek were a clear example, but that’s besides the point.

Now, believe me when I say I’m sorry I didn’t notice how beautiful you were the second I laid my eyes on you. Perhaps, that would have saved us a lot of pain, or rather given us a lot more happiness. I was, to my ill luck, blinded by my adoration for someone else. I wouldn’t label it a mistake, it’s fair to say it was just an unfortunate event at the time, that would later come in doubles, and then in triples, like a series of them.

Do you remember that book? ‘A series of unfortunate events’ by Lemony Snicket. It was the first thing you gave me as a birthday present, that and the ridiculous hat that haunts me to this day. Engraved in my mind I have the expression you made when I told you it was a children’s book.

“No way! I’m giving a children’s book to a genius?!” the anguish in your voice was palpable, you were truly ashamed.

“Well, this is not the illustrated version, so it’s technically not a children’s book. I love it, thank you.” I tried to reassure you, but I wasn’t very good at that.

Maybe, you just wanted your partner to like you, to show me you were trying, or to prove that you could know me as much as the others in such little time, but regardless of the reason you felt like you’d failed. I could see it, and I regret not letting you know just how precious that possession would turn out to be.

Months later, we would also come to know that you couldn’t stand for that long without moving, otherwise your legs would feel swollen for days. Six hours you spent with me at the shooting range, even after Hotch had given up. They had to kick us out, and out of hunger we found that indian restaurant that’s open 24/7. I refuse to believe I still failed that certification, you were one of the best teachers I’ve ever had, but I’ll always be thankful for every missed shot, since that night I found the wonder that butter chicken was. My first time having indian food.

Interestingly enough, we didn’t go back to that place on our own, jobs, people, life always getting in the way. Now I understand, then, it was no wonder the chicken never tasted the same.

Entry 2: Trial, one of many.

I still wonder how you always managed to show up, regardless of the way I constantly seemed to juggle with my own life. The first time I died, courtesy of Tobias Hankle’s dad, I wondered if my mom was going to be okay. Funny, huh? Even in death I found it hard to put my life first. I know that always pissed you off, and I never knew better, and I’m sorry to tell you I’ve kept the bad habit, I’m afraid.

Peaceful doesn’t quite describe the way it felt, my last breath I mean. Relieved, I guess, would fit better. I had told you before, hadn’t I? The hospital she was in, the books she liked best, the letters I wrote everyday. It was a hopeful relief, I craved that you would have come to care for me enough to look after my mother if I were to be gone.

Luckily, you didn’t get the chance to prove it, but many years later I would understand that, back then and there, you would have moved heaven and earth for me; and I should have known by the way your arms found me amidst the dark of that cemetery. I should have known by the way you stayed in my messy apartment throughout the night, by the way you held my arm when I woke up shaking in terror, and by the way you repeated that same routine every evening for almost a week.

Should have known after you dropped everything to meet me at Gideon’s cabin as I cried over his gun and badge, as I mourned someone that I hadn’t lost, as I yet again felt insufficient to remain, to make him stay. I’m still not sure why I called you. Perhaps you would share the burden of losing a mentor, or maybe you would notice that I was breaking down, that I was too weak to fix myself, and even weaker to ask for help. No one reached out for me because I never screamed, no one knew how bad I needed it. And yet, with a simple whisper miles away, you came. You showed up.

I should have known right when you were sitting by the toilet bowl, your hair tie loosely holding my hair together so it wouldn’t get dirty. Did I think I looked good with that? Why did I ever leave it that long? Stop, I can’t also be rambling while I write, not that you ever minded the infinite data of nothingness, did you? Circling back, I still feel the coldness of your fingers, pale with concern, as they curled around my trembling wrist while I threw up my guts and soul in that white container.

“You should go.” I would whisper in between gargles and spits.

“And leave you like this?” you weren’t even looking at me. I guess the image of my body bent over a basin, sickly and frail, was enough to be engraved in your mind with one glance.

“I’m just one of the 21 million americans that struggle with at least one addiction. I’m nothing special.” I grumbled with disdain “And you don’t have a magic wand you can wave and make it go away. You’re nothing special.”

You sighed at my words, by then you knew how stubborn I could be, am I correct? It didn’t take a profiler to figure out something like that. “Only 10% seek help, though. Those odds make you special enough, don’t you think?” If you said anything else, I cannot remember. I could only focus on the fast speed of my beating heart, that I mistook for undesired side-effects of the drugs.

Withdrawal can be hell, but I had already had a taste of that, so I figured I could handle a bit more of it. You, on the other hand, were not ready for the burden that was I. I could see the facade you put on whenever I said something so hurtful anyone else would have gone out running, the subtle swallowing of the knots in your throat, the deep, shaky breaths, the way your eyelids clung to the tears that threatened to come out. Yes, I should have known right then and there, after you met the worst of me, and yet stayed.

Entry 3: Did I care to share?

To be fair, you were a bit to blame for my obliviousness. A pure heart is a mystery for men who don’t know kindness, and life hadn’t been particularly tender to me. I had begun to question if, maybe, the lifeline that had become your gentle hand meant something else. But more often than not, I had learned that love follows after life, and if it had been gentle enough to give you to me, who was I, a mere mortal, to want more, to show greed.

You were there for Elle and her revolting, for Morgan and his search for his truth, for Garcia and her desire to cling to life after her very own kindness had almost taken it from her, and for Hotch and his falling into the darkest of despairs. You would tell me how you had to cancel plans to make him company, how you woke up extra early to make sure he’d have breakfast, how you’d pretend to be walking by his new bachelor apartment as an excuse to check up on him, and spend extra hours just so you could get him to talk in his office.I watched you worry and give your best to put a smile on a saddened face. Just like you had done for me, and the many people that we both loved. It hurt, it selfishly hurt. Your love was so vast it could fill a dam and still pour, yet my thirst could barely be quenched.

My skin still burns with the memory of your tears falling on my hand when I told you my cravings had started again. I saw the glint of failure in your eyes, like I had years ago with the children's book. It made me question if eidetic memory could translate to the sense of touch, to this day it is vivid, like they cover me again whenever I feel the urge, whenever I need to escape.

Once again, you showed up. You showed up at my apartment to pick me up, like a toddler waiting to be taken to the doctors, only that the person that would fix me was not a medic, it was a sponsor. I don’t think I’d have been brave enough to show up by myself, to get help on my own, if I hadn’t been so scared to hurt you again, probably bad enough to finally push you away.

It was okay, even if you were to be shared, if your heart had space for everyone else, I was happy to know I could belong as well, to be included. I was okay sharing you, as long as I got a piece.

Entry 4: The dreaded distance.

I never understood politics, or the system. Ironic, though, since human behavior is nothing but a mixture of different structures interacting together, creating a being that then I would dedicate my entire life to studying. But it was always so confusing, why would they rip you away from me? Didn’t they see how good you were? Perhaps that was the issue.

I still remember the way you clung to my chest when we were saying goodbye. Did the DEA really need you? Did it really have to be you? It wouldn’t be the only time the bureau would plot against me, against the hope I grasped on to continue doing my job, but it certainly was the hardest one, and mind you, the first one. The pain of having a friend ripped from my arms, a handful of things could only compare.

Hotch would later come to confess that my hatred for the superiors was unfunded. You were not taken, you were a tribute. When Strauss came in arms, you had to surrender to protect me. They made Aaron choose between me and you, one had to leave, it wasn’t up for discussion, and you volunteered. Because you knew, I could barely make it anywhere else.

“It’s been a while since I was hugged like this.” you said when we were strong enough to finally pull apart, when the clock was streaking 6, and there was no professional excuse to keep you in the building for longer.

“Like what?” I had to ask. You deserved to be engulfed in arms every waking second. You deserved to be carried by the holiest of angels. Why wouldn’t I hug you like we were in a Shakespearean tragedy?

“Like somebody was afraid of losing me.” you answered.

Oh, my love, was I terrified.

Maybe I am dramatic. You weren’t dead, you weren’t gone, just in a different building, in the same city. I knew where you lived, where you bought your coffee, and your favorite place to dine in. Yet, you felt so far away, so out of reach I could barely handle it. I missed you, so dearly, so madly.

Weekly escapades to the geekiest of places, a lousy street diner I was too scared to eat at, and that I would just because of you, the faking of high-fives whenever I got an idea, my favorite inside joke, the laughter in the bullpen at my unintentioned comments, the looking over my shoulder to see if you were still there, the joy in my chest whenever you entered the room, the love I didn’t know was love. All gone, away from me.

Your midnight calls were balm to an open wound. Calming at the stake of some pain. And I knew, one of the very few things I knew, that you weren’t doing good in that place, that your pain was greater than you would express, but your body wouldn’t lie to me, it could never lie to me, the sighs between sentences, the strain in your voice, the tiredness in your breath. But I wasn’t like you, I couldn’t just show up, I didn’t know how. I didn’t know I helped. I didn’t know I was to you what you were to me. A beacon of light, of hope.

I wondered what was hurting you. Was I not nice enough for you to tell me what, or who, was causing that to you? “Be nice” Hotch had said. Was he nicer? You always went to him for things like these, the matters of the heart. I had to hear from Garcia, months later, about that mysterious fellow agent that was making you cry, and I realized in that moment that I had never known rage. The pure, raw need to tear someone limb by limb. How dare he toy with a soul as giving as yours? Like using the crown jewel as a skipping stone.

Fortunately, I was not the only one that wanted to protect you. Not the only one that cared enough. A visit from Morgan, a call from Hotch, and the rat was gone, for good, and you were back in the unit, for better.

Entry 5: When I knew without knowing.

You’d changed, I could see, and I’d heard heartbreak does that to a person. Yet your smile always seemed to shine bright. It shone for our boss, swallowed in deep grief, it shone for JJ as she was, to no one’s surprise, cruelly taken from us, it shone for Prentiss and her struggles, the ones that were there even when she wouldn’t confess to them.

Do you remember the flame of my tears on your shoulder when I heard she was dead? I could barely stay home. The walls seemed to crush me if I was alone. I hopped from your house, to JJ’s, to the office, to yours yet again. Your arms were my solace, my God given solace. Whenever I turned, you were there.

I don’t know what was harder to deal with: her death or her return to life. How did you manage to not take a side? You felt the same pain I did. You cried the same tears I shed. I wondered if you were always stronger than me. Stupid question, the answer was yes.

“I’m just saying, Spencer.” you twirled around in my kitchen as you spoke, impatient since I was taking a long time to get ready, and there was an appointment to get to.

“Well, okay, then stop saying!” I was shoving a couple of books and other belongings, I can’t even remember what, as I subtly yelled at you.

Time and again, the stupid book would slip out whenever I tried to close my bag. It was frustrating, infuriating. Kind as you were, you kneeled with me, your hand brushed mine, and a mere graze was enough to slow me down. I looked at you. Did you see pain? I know you did. You always did. My body couldn’t lie to you.

“I feel it too.” you began to talk “The guilt. The wishing that she was still gone so you wouldn’t have to go through the excruciating pain of betrayal.” bullseye, as per usual. I started to cry; you always made me comfortable enough to break down without care. “If you truly don’t wish to make up with them, the girls, I’ll be on your side. You have the right to feel hurt. If you tell me, right now, hand to heart, that you want to skip Rossi’s dinner and go catch that ridiculous black and white movie, I’ll get up and walk beside you, like I’ve done countless times, and I will also be there, when you are filled with regret, and the words can’t leave your mouth to ask for their forgiveness for your attitude.”

Dragged by your hand, we showed up, and I felt it, the memory of a feeling long not emoted, the warmth of family. You were right, you were always right. I walked you to your place that night, stumbling a little from the wine, laughing about something Garcia and Morgan had said. We stood by your doorway, and you stopped. You looked at me, so deeply, so filled with pride. How could I be so stupid? I should have kissed you at that moment. I should have hugged you in a way you hadn’t before, in a way that told you that in this and many other lives, I needed you with me. I needed you to be mine.

Entry 6: The start of my demise.

I still wonder how you did it. How did you stand beside me with a straight face while you broke on the inside? Watching me slowly fall for someone else to a point of no return, a point of devotion you had long earned.

You knew about Maeve before anyone else. I didn’t have to tell you, my smile gave me away, since you knew it better than anyone, you were the one that put it back there more than once. You supported my every move, my every whim, my every idea to please her, to make her love me. And she loved me, and I loved her, there’s no point in hiding it.

How did you do it? Seriously, how did you advise me to court her and hear me rant about her like she was the latest scientific breakthrough? How did you wear a straight face as mine lit up at the thought of her name? How did you pour your heart out to help me find her? All while wearing that damned smile, the cursed reason for my existence. How did you not fall in shambles as you watched me love her? I would have, without question.

So, I beg of you to tell me. How could you possibly love me while I loved someone else?

It’s like a riddle whose answer is before me, but I can’t see it, I can’t find it. To this day it amazes me, the way that you remained outside my door throughout the night. Did you think I didn’t know you were there? The way you took care of my food and services. Did you know I couldn’t bring myself to even check my bank account? The way you saw through me when I came back to work. You knew I wasn’t okay, regardless of my attempts to prove so.

You remained for months by my side, showing up at my door when the night got too cold, holding my head on your lap as I sobbed, as I, once again, mourned. You stood there with me trying to fix something someone else had broken, something you didn’t even know if you could glue back together.

“If I believed in religion, at least I could cling to the hope of meeting her again.” I muttered, and you laughed a bit.

“Perhaps in another universe, if you’re lucky enough.” smart of you to talk to me in terms I could understand.

“It doesn’t feel like it will ever end, you know? The grief.” I confessed to you as your fingers threaded on my locks, body too tired to hold up straight from crying, so my head laid on your thigh.

“It will.” you reassured “Maybe not soon, but it will.”

“Maybe.” I could only agree “but I can’t count on you to soothe my pain forever.” I only looked up because your fingers stopped moving, but I’m glad I did, I’m glad I caught your eyes, filled with endless determination, as you spoke.

“Says who?” did you mean it? Forever?

Entry 7: All that’s well…

After JJ’s abduction, something drastically changed. Not just the two of us, but the entire team. Our secrets were no longer innocent and blameless, they were dangerous, harmful. They could tear us apart if not properly shared. They could push us away if we didn’t say them outright.

My love for you was my deepest rooted secret, pushed so far into the drawer I had forgotten about it myself, too scared to pull it out, afraid I’d just have to push it back in without giving it a chance to show off.

No more secrets. That’s the pact we all agreed on. I kept thinking about that as you walked with me. You knew it had hit me hard to see JJ so weak and hurt, reduced to bruises and agony; you also knew I would find a way to blame myself if I were to be left alone in that room, so you decided to make me some company. We dined in silence, utter absence of sound that did not, at any moment, feel odd. You walked with me, not next to me, with me. And you waited by the door for my invitation to enter. I could just stare at you, so beautifully patient, so wonderfully loving. So easy to love.

“No more secrets.” I told you, my eyes unable to leave your face.

“Yes, Spence. No more secrets.” you answered with that blissful smile of yours. You caught up rather quick that I was hiding something. I could never fool you, not you. “Is there something else you need to tell me?” you questioned me, and I could see the look in your eyes trying to subtly profile me.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Over 7,000 languages are spoken in this world, and there were still not enough words to describe what I felt for you. I didn’t talk. My lips just found their way to yours, so naturally, so right.

“This is a mistake.” you muttered. You were still unsure, you would tell me later, that life could be so kind to you, to have me love you. How silly of you, darling, to even dare to think I could not.

Our bodies didn’t lie, they couldn’t lie to each other. Your tongue gave you away, it spoke of truce but tasted of war. Your hands explored all of my body, they felt my every vein, and tasted the pulse of a heart that beat for you. Your mouth spilled honey-like sounds as I greedily took every part of you for my pleasure. As I embedded your scent in my brain, to the record of things I loved about you. I had never made love. Sex, once or twice, but never love. I remember watching you sleep, your warm cheek on my bare chest; your hands, even unconsciously, clinging to my torso as if I were to slip away like a dream. But you felt so real, oh honey, you were so real. You were so mine. And I couldn’t remember the last time I was held so close I could touch love.

I can still hear Hotch’s sermon. No more secrets, that’s what we pacted, and you were big on promises, but to be fair, so was I. An hour, I recall, we were shoved inside that office. Hands together, faces down, like children caught in the act.

“Fraternization is dangerous,” it was his third time saying that “and if this were to come out, I would have to transfer one of you.” we didn’t care, and he could tell. He sighed, in defeat. “Just tell me one thing.” he changed directions “Are you happy?”

He was asking you, yet pretended the question was for both. You didn’t entertain him with an answer. He already knew. He knew in the way you reached for my hand, in the way I held back a smile. He nodded. Did he approve? I don’t think we’ll ever know, but he protected us, he always protected us.

That day, we drank and danced all together, as if our love was a reason for celebration. Apparently, it wasn’t a secret to anyone but us. Long ago they figured we’d end up together, even got some complaints for having been later rather than sooner.

Life was good and kind with you by my side, filled with laughter, adventure, and pleasure. The darkest nights still glimmered with your presence, like a blindfold being lifted to reveal the cold truth; all it took for life to be kind was me loving you, and you loving me.

Entry 8: Alone we stand

When did I stop making sense? Curiously enough, that’s the one moment I can’t pinpoint. I broke a promise, and the downfall caught up.

“Were you even going to tell me?!” you paced around my apartment in rage.

“Come on, you know I was” I had gotten defensive, regardless of my wrongdoing.

“When, exactly? After you had fixed it? ‘Cause you have to fix everything alone?” you snarked at me.

“I don’t want to sound rude, but it’s a private matter.” worst phrasing I could have chosen, to be honest.

“I’m your girlfriend, Spence. I think I have proven for quite a while now that I’m here for the bad and the worst. Instead, I have to find out your mother has Alzheimer’s through a hitman. You told a hitman before you told me!” I see now, that your anger was not unfounded.

“She had a gun to my crotch! What did you want me to do!?” I tried to argue.

“Oh, okay, so that’s what it takes to get you to open up?”

No, you didn’t hold a gun to my crotch. You did way worse, you forgave me, and we moved on. But it was never the same, oh no, I could feel it, we both could feel it. How conversations seemed to require more energy, how the touches were more scripted than impulsive, how after a few hours you realized that you hadn’t thought about me in a little while.

I tried to fix it. It’s what I always do. Perhaps if I could get us both in the same place, it would happen again, the spark that we had lost. I asked you to move in with me, and you agreed. We were happy again, not simply because of the fact, but because it was a great reminder for both of us, that the future was together, it had always been together.

But alas, life isn’t kind enough. We had agreed to find a new place, somewhere we could turn ‘ours’ without getting rid of the ‘mine’. It was taking time, of course, since we wanted it to be perfect. And little did we know that time was the only thing in this world we didn’t have.

The news of Hotch’s departure hurt us all in a way we never truly recovered from, but for you, for the never-ending-loving you, it left a wound I couldn’t close. I saw the always dreaded glint of loneliness in your eye, the same one I carried when Gideon left. I saw the breaking of a soul that had lost a mentor, a protector, you lost the ground you walked onto and never learned how to fly.

We didn’t make it. I don’t think it was your fault, or mine, for that matter, life just happened so fast, so merciless. I loved you, that never stopped, and you loved me, I know that much. All I could do was hold on to the hope that I had made the right decision, the decision to push you away, to save you from the torture that our life would be. I would do anything for my mother, even if that meant standing back on my own, without you.

I’m sorry, my love, that it took me so long to understand. That the strength you were lending me was not for me to judge, but to carry, to use as a tool to build what we dreamed of . I didn’t learn about it until JJ visited one day, when I was mourning the love that we had, that she told me what happened the day she showed up at your apartment, knees on the ground, to beg you to continue loving me.

“It wasn’t my decision, Jennifer.” you said, barely allowing yourself to glance at her.

“He’s just doing this because he thinks he’s protecting you, you know that.” she tried to argue on my behalf.

“JJ, you are his best friend, if you’re asking me to convince him to change his mind, you know it would be easier to get Garcia to play soccer.” you were right, by the way. JJ was about to give up.

“He needs you.” she kept trying.

“No, he doesn’t.” you answered “He needs someone to be there for him, at his constant back and call, to dedicate their very being to his happiness, to pour out the entirety of themselves onto him, and I can’t be that person. I can’t.”

“But why not!?” to her, it also didn’t make much sense. You always were, what was different this time?

“Because I’m not whole.” you finally admitted.

She had to hear you cry for hours at how lost you felt. I didn’t understand I’d become a part of you, and by taking me away, I was ripping a portion of who you were. With Hotch gone, there was no way you could fix yourself, not fast enough, at least. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t know.

You stayed for the man that more than once had your back. You stayed to catch Mr. Scratch. I was no longer the hope you held on to, I was no longer the one you chased after, Aaron was your last hope, your last piece to make sense of whatever you felt like was happening around you. The person who would return to you the will to love something that wasn’t me.

But he wasn’t there, and you were lost.

Entry 9: Together we fall apart.

I can’t blame you for leaving, you had no reason to stay, the job had long ago stopped making sense, it was the people that you loved what made you stick around, and now we were gone, in more than one sense. And believe when I say I missed you, with every pore of my heart, even if I couldn’t bring myself to reach out to at least know how you were doing.

I did wonder, though, if having you around would have made a difference. If you could have seen something all of us missed, if you had protected me better, if you could had helped me when I didn’t know how to help myself.

Cat Adams would ruin me in more than one way, sure, but regarding us, I’m sure now I’m the only one to blame. A series of unfortunate events by Spencer Reid.

“We told her you were in prison.” Emily said as she sat across the booth, with a crystal screen separating the both of us. There was no need to say your name. They all knew you were all I ever thought about. “She’s asking to be put on the list.”

“Emily!” I yelled out of reflex .

“I’m sorry, Spence, but she’s really worried, and maybe she could help.”

“My answer is no.” I watched her sigh as I said those words.

“Can I at least tell her you’re thinking about it?” she still tried to convince me, for your sake. “And, will you think about it?” I nodded.

I promise I thought it through, hard and well. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you, I didn’t want you to see me. I knew, I knew you would try to fix it, and I couldn’t do that to you, not again. Regardless, you still tried. You made sure my mother was safe and well, you made her company, it wasn’t your fault, I don’t hold it against you, they outsmarted us all. And I’m sorry, again, that after I was freed I still couldn’t bring myself to face you.

Many things happened in the following years. I wish I could have seen you one more time just to tell you all about it. A coffee by my apartment window, a nap on that comfy living room couch, a laugh by the bullpen. The things I’d have done to have one more moment with you.

The second time I died, it was way less scary. Guess I had some practice. If I told you who I saw, you wouldn’t have believed me, but it was the message that counted. I wasn’t ready to go, and I wasn’t ready to leave you. If I were to stay, I was going to fight to at least see you one more time, to hear your laugh once again.

My mom did tell me that I should be careful what I wish for, and when I woke up in that hospital room, after a horrible stroke nonetheless, I understood why.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Penelope remained for a second by my bed after my mom had left to get some water.

My eyebrows furrowed the slightest, I couldn’t move that much. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and I didn’t think much before I hit the call.” she continued to explain.

Again, I could only tilt my head in confusion, something about having brain failure had made me the tiniest bit slower. The fog cleared very quickly, though, once I saw you walk through the door. You were as beautiful as the day I met you, only now I could see, and I would never cease to see. You walked to the bed and your hand reached out for mine, like it was supposed to be.

“Hey, you.” you said softly.

“Hey,” I muttered. If I had been able to breathe better, believe me I would have yelled out like an excited 5 year old “what are you doing here?”

“I recently realized I’ve grown into the habit of showing up after you almost died.” you joked, and it was like time hadn’t passed at all “which, if you ask me, it’s a weird habit to have.” it was my turn to laugh, you always caused that in me.

Penelope had stepped out, she knew we needed the space, as for our souls could only be bare if it was just the two of us. You came closer, and our eyes met, and time actually stopped, and everything was okay.

“I will always love you.” I’m sorry I said it like that, I know it’s not what you expected.

“Spencer…” you began to talk.

“No, just,” I cut you off “I know I can get it right this time.” the way that you looked at me I will never forget, a look you had never given me, that you respected me too much to give me, the look of pity.

“I’m not a second chances program” you started “I couldn’t just wait around until you were ready to notice that I was still there, that you allowed me back in.”

Your tears threatened to fall. I could see them, that’s not what I wanted, that’s never what I wanted. I reached for your face, and you leaned against my hand. Old habits die hard, don’t they? I should know, since I had fallen into the habit of wanting you, of loving you. This and every other life. I couldn’t hold them any longer, the sobs, the tears, the pain, the pain only you could heal, only you could let me show. I love you because of your strength, since it allowed me to be weak without remorse.

You did the same for me, your gentle fingers caressing my cheek, pushing away the salty droplets. “It’s okay, Spencer, it’s okay.” you whispered “we have to let us go.”

“And if we’re lucky enough?” I asked.

“If we’re lucky enough,” your face smiled, but the strain in your voice showed me the misery in your words, along with their genuinity “in another universe, you would have been with Maeve and I would have never loved you. And we could finally be happy.”

You couldn’t have been more wrong to think, even for a second, that my destiny was any other than you. I didn’t have the words to prove it, I could form a sentence to save my life, save the love of my life. I tried to kiss you. I wish you had done it, you would have understood.

“My boyfriend is waiting outside.” you muttered before my lips could meet home, and like that, you were gone.

Entry 10: I think I’ll be alright.

I never saw you again, but it’s okay. Years to come I would question every decision I had made, did they lead me to you, or just pushed you away? There was no way of telling. Regrets are a broken sword, dull enough to be harmless, and sharp enough to hurt. Would you have done something differently? I doubt so.

I’m thankful, nonetheless, to have been given the opportunity to concur. To have been loved by you. I did wish for a different ending, but who am I to be selfish? I had it all, even if I lost it. Until years later I would hear about your marriage; you eloped, as we always thought we would do, planning a wedding was too much of a hassle. Did you end up having kids? If you did, lucky them, if something they were to never lack, it would be love. I hope he is treating you well, that you are happy, like you always deserved.

Me? I finally had to learn. The grief finally went away, you see, someone once told me that love comes in moments, and later in life I found myself clinging to that thought. If love comes in moments, my darling, after everything we've been through, yours will last me a million years.

Even if I got just a fraction of it.”

The silence was covered by the rustling of book pages as the woman finished speaking. Yet her crowd of one didn’t seem to show much reaction, which was a source of concern.

"Spencer, would you like me to read it again?" Penelope asked as she swayed back and forth on the rocking chair the staff had given to her.

"Sorry?" he asked, seemingly lost in thought.

"Ma'am." a gentle nurse interrupted them "visitation time is over, Dr. Reid has to rest."

"Of course." the once blonde woman, whose hair now shone silver, said as she handed the diary back to his owner "Here, take this."

"Is this mine?" a still confused Spencer continued to question.

"Yes, it's your favorite book." she reiterated.

"Really?" his fingers fidgeted with the cover "What is it about?"

Penelope couldn't help the way her eyes filled with water, like they did every week whenever she had to leave the friend she'd visit in that mental facility without fail.

"The greatest love story ever told."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid #fic: spencer #fics: spencer #fic: mine #fic: criminal minds

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