#I’ve tried to post this shit three fucking times

[keter-class-anomaly]

Norm and gingi need more content reblog if you agree

[joelsgreys]

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck. 

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 

He could have done more. 

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 

A single white pearl hung from the chain. 

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

[innieandsungielover]

A/N: This is my first ever fic that I'm posting on this account, or on skz in general, so I hope you guys like it! My inbox is open, so hit me up ig?

Pairing: Bully-ish!Hyunjin x afab!Reader (enemies to lovers)

18+ minors dni!!!

CW: Unprotected sex, oral (fem! receiving), cum eating, fucking in a public area, but no one comes inside!

WC: 3.3k

Love is a fickle thing, it always starts with an infatuation. You constantly think about them, yearn for them, cry for them. Surround yourself with the things they like in hopes of finding something in common.

You never felt you could find this sense of attraction. You watched as people fell in and out of love, but for you, it was just a figment of your imagination. 

There was only one time you were close enough to “love” someone, but instead of the feeling of contentment, it was one of hatred. You were infatuated with him, but not in the way that most would be, you could only see the negative, blinded by hatred for the man in front of you. 

He was in your art class, while you worked with clay pieces, he worked with watercolors. Everyone was in awe of his work, especially your professor. 

There were always subtle tones of love in every one of his paintings. It was his main emotion, his main drive, and it was truly beautiful.

The first time you ever saw one of his paintings was when you accidentally stumbled upon it, it being left in the classroom to dry as he went to go get coffee. 

You were working on one of your structures, an entangled face that showed a range of emotions. It was something that you wanted to achieve to show the complexity of the human mind, of emotions, but you ended up getting distracted by his painting.

You stood in front of it for what felt like hours, looking over each brush stroke, each blend of color, it was beautiful. You hadn’t realized you were crying, a few tears wetting your cheek until Hyunjin was in front of you holding out a tissue. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry” you tripped over your words as you took the tissues from his hand, thanking him. “It’s no problem, I’m actually very grateful” 

“And why is that?” you asked, dabbing the tissue at your tear ducts.“My work has never brought someone to tears” he grinned, taking a sip of his iced americano, the condensation of the drink ran down his cup like your tears just moments prior. 

“I don’t know how it hasn’t, the way you depict love is truly extraordinary, I’ve yet to see anything like it before. It isn’t even your form of painting, nor the medium, but the way you can feel the emotion pouring through the artist into their art is magnificent” 

“Such high praise from the teacher’s pet, what did I do to deserve this?” he chuckled, sitting back at his easel, playing with the brushes in the palm of his hand. 

“I’m not the teacher's pet” you glared at him, hating the way your voice stuttered as you spoke out against his accusations. “You most definitely are” he rolled his eyes, causing your eyebrows to furrow, “how else are you affording all your materials while others have much crappier ones? T-E-A-C-H-E-R’S P-E-T” he stated, enunciating every note at the end of his sentence.  

You glared at him, not feeling the need to prove yourself against his harmful words. No longer wanting to be belittled, you turned around, the clay that was previously stuck to your hands cracking. 

You tried to ignore him, truly, but every time you thought you were no longer going to see his face, there he appeared. 

At first, it was at your job, he would come at least three times a day, getting his daily Iced Americano fix. 

“Isn’t it unhealthy to drink more than one of these a day?” you asked, it was slower today so you had time to talk to him as he paid. 

“Wow, she speaks!” he exclaimed, slowly pulling out his card. “I thought you were taking a vow of silence seeing as every time you don’t even ask me what I want. I thought customer service helps you keep your job?” he joked, tilting his head to the side. 

“Well, my manager said it was okay to ignore dicks, so I think that’s what I’m doing!” you grinned, using your ‘customer service voice’ as he just rolled his eyes at you. 

“You would love to see my dick” he whispered, coming closer to the register so only you could hear him. 

Through a smile, you muttered, “If it’s anything like your personality, I bet it’s disgusting and nothing special!” 

He just tsked at you, walking away as someone had finally entered the little coffee place, coming up to the register to place their order. 

The next place was in your own apartment. You had no idea that your roommate, Felix, was close friends with the devil incarnate. 

“Why does he have to come over?” you whined, your body clad in overalls and a tank top as you took a bite of the warm brownie that he had made to help bring you to the “dark side”. 

As you took another bite, you didn’t realize the chocolate that was oozing out of the fudgy dessert, getting on the corner of your mouth. 

“He’s my best friend, plus I don’t know why you don’t like him. He’s like so nice to everyone, not to mention isn’t he your type? I do remember you loooove tall guys, people who are into are, and love reading. He checks all of your boxes babe” he giggled, watching as you glared at him, cheeks filled with the brownies he made you. 

“That doesn’t forgo him being one of the worst people I’ve ever met like he’s such a fucking asshole” you groaned, taking a sip of milk. 

“Hey! That “asshole” happens to be my best friend, so don’t talk about him like that or I’m cutting you off!” 

For such a small and kind dude, he sure had a fiery side to him. You simply nodded your head, lowering it in defeat, allowing him to pet it. 

He began to coo at you as he stroked your hair back. “Look at you being such a good roommate” he giggled, feeding you more of the brownie, which you happily accepted. 

“Now I have to go shower, so if he comes, please open the door for him and make him feel a bit welcome?” Lixie grinned at you, bopping your nose as you nodded your head, not wanting to be a nuisance to your friend. 

You scrolled on your phone, your legs hitting the cabinets underneath the counter you were currently situated on before you heard the jingle of the door knob. Before you could even jump down, the door opened itself, Hyunjin in front of it key in hand. 

“Felix, I can’t wait to tell you about this–” he cut himself off as he saw you, legs jangling off of the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, brownie in the other. 

“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you a stalker or something?” he groaned, placing his stuff on the couch, only for his hands to cross over his body, trying to prove a point. 

“I live here, Felix is my roommate and I’m going back to my room,” you said as kindly as you possibly could, not wanting to upset Lix after he politely asked you not to be a dick. 

“I don’t believe it, you want me that bad you made up an entire scheme to try and sleep with me, I mean I know I’m irresistible, but still that’s a new low.” 

Before he could continue spewing nonsense, you took his hand dragging it to your room. You opened the door allowing him to look inside. Your bra on the floor, your bed made but a bit crumpled from sitting on it earlier, and pictures of you and your friends littering the walls. 

“Is this enough proof for you?” you asked, tilting your head to the side waiting for his response. 

Instead, he took your face in the palm of his hand, his thumb first stroking your chin then slowly shifting down to the corner of your lip. He pulled you a bit closer, your eyes roaming his face, and your breath was caught in your throat. You thought he was going to kiss you, he pulled away with a laugh. 

“What a loser, you had chocolate all over your face while trying to talk to me. Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed?” he grinned, placing the thumb that was just rubbing at the corner of your lip into his mouth, savoring the taste. 

“You mean nothing to me, so why would I care?” you shrugged, taking your wallet in your hand before slowly moving away from your dorm frame to the entrance of your apartment. 

“Tell Felix I’m not going to be back for dinner” With that you left, leaving Hyunjin dumbfounded in the middle of your apartment. 

He was just trying to play hard to get, but you were still not getting it. Did you not notice that he went out of his way to go to the coffee shop that was out of his way, only on days you were working? How he spent hours in the classroom with you just to hear what song you were obsessed with that week, it was like you were oblivious to his infatuation with you. You couldn’t be that dumb, could you?

The last and most hated place to see him was the studio. It was your sanctuary, sure your room meant a lot to you, your own private space, but while working on your art, everything was basically white noise.

From the moment you put on your headphones, you are lost in a trance. The only thing on your mind is the piece in front of you and how you could make it better from the last. 

You were so immersed in your work, that you didn’t realize that Hyunjin had entered the room, working on his own piece.  

Almost an hour had passed as the two of you sat working on your respective pieces. What you didn’t notice was that he was on the phone. You could see his lips moving, but you didn’t think much of it, partly because you didn’t care enough, and the other half was because your favorite song was playing and you had forgotten about him.

It wasn’t until your headphones died that you finally heard the words leaving his mouth. 

“She’s so fucking cute, but I don’t know how she hasn’t noticed that I like her yet. Like why else would I go to her coffee shop 3 times a day Felix? And don’t say it’s because I have a coffee addiction, I know that, but I only go there to see her. And fuck, did you see her at Bin’s party, that short skirt I thought I was going to cum right there and then. How difficult is it for her to see that I like her?” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You didn’t even realize that you dropped your bowl of water until he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his. Before you could properly react, he quickly hung up the phone, walking towards you. 

You didn’t even realize, but you had started to run away, but you had nowhere to hide. You squatted down, trying to shield your body from him, but it only allowed him to come closer to you. 

“You heard what I said, didn’t you?” he asked as he crouched down to meet your height.

You didn’t respond, instead just nodding your head, which caused him to groan. He slowly pulled your hands away from your face, his hand on your chin. 

“I like you” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours. “Okay?” you responded, your voice quieter than his. 

“Let me show you” and with that, he captured your lips with his, pulling your body closer to him. Your lips were working in tandem as he wrapped your legs around his torso, your hands flying to the back of his neck, allowing him to pick you up. 

He pulled both of your bodies up, leading you to the closest desk, not allowing the two of you to break your kiss. His tongue licking at the seam of your mouth, begging for an entrance. 

You allowed it, your breaths getting heavier as he pushed his cock into the seam of your leggings, the room filled with your whimpers as he pressed deeper into you, allowing you to feel the hardness of him through his jeans. 

He slowly pulled away, a trail of spit connecting the two of you. “Fuck” you whined as he slowly pulled down your leggings, the cool air causing goosebumps to riddle your legs and arms. 

“Look at this pretty little cunt” he whispered, admiring the way your lips pushed against the cotton of your underwear. “Can’t wait to eat it” he grinned, tearing off your underwear causing you to shout. 

“Hyunjin what the fuck, I never said you could do that?” but you were cut off by the feeling of his plush lips against your clit, lapping away. Your hands instantaneously grasped his hair, pushing him deeper into you, allowing the only thought on his mind to be your pussy. 

You moaned as he continued lapping at it, learning every curve, where you loved being touched. He wanted to understand you, know what made you tick, he wanted to make you his. 

He slowly brought his hand up to your cunt, his finger teasing your hole before slowly pushing it inside of you. “Do you like that baby?” he whispered into your cunt, the vibration on your clit causing your eyes to roll back. 

“Feels so good” you whimpered as you lowered yourself, your back hitting the table. 

He didn’t want to stop until he made you cum in his mouth, he needed to taste you after chasing you for months. He slowly added another finger, thrusting it inside of your soaking hole, his other hand grabbing your thighs, pulling you closer to him. 

“Gonna cum Jinnie” you whimpered, your high being near. As soon as the word Jinnie left your lips, he felt like he was going to cum, the sound of you moaning his name was ringing in his ears and he needed to hear it again and again. 

“Fuck baby, gonna cum, gonna cum on my fingers like a good girl?” 

“Yes, gonna cum for Jinnie” you whimpered, your orgasm taking control of your body, it twitching under the feeling of his fingers continuously thrusting into you, hitting that spongey spot in your repeatedly. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on” he whispered, kissing your lips once again. 

You could feel his cock pressing onto your thigh, it protruding through his jeans and all you could think about was making him feel good.  

“Want to make you feel good Jinnie” you whined, pulling away from his lips as your hands frantically went to his jeans, pulling them down to try and get access to his cock. There was a slight wet patch on his boxers, which made you whimper. 

“Please, need it” you whined, your hands trailing to your cunt, spreading your lips apart to show him how wet you were for him. 

“You are going to kill me baby” he grinned, pulling his boxers down, allowing his cock to hit his stomach. Your eyes looked at him in fear when you saw his size. He was long and thick, bigger than everyone you’ve ever been with. 

“Don’t tell me you are scared” he chuckled, running the tip of his cock along your folds, capturing your wetness along his tip. You shook your head, trying to prove to him that you weren’t. 

“It’s okay baby, I’ll go slow, let me get a condom” But before he could even reach into his jeans to get his wallet, you stopped him. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill, please need to feel all of you Jinnie” 

Who was he to say no to your cute pleading face, so he slowly pushed the tip of his cock into you, causing the two of you to moan. You at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out, and him at the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock. 

His cock was so deep inside of you, you felt like you could cum from just his cock resting inside of you. 

“Fuck baby, your pussy is taking me so well, wish we did this before instead of all this bickering, it’s like you were made for me.” he moaned while slowly beginning to thrusting into you, making sure he wasn’t going to fast.

To ensure your comfort, and to get you closer to your high because he knew he wasn’t going to last long, he began playing with your clit. “Jinnie feels so good, you are so deep inside of me” you whimpered.

He took it as a sign to start thrusting into you deeper. Each thrush hits your g-spot perfectly. With the stimulation of his finger on your clit, you couldn’t do it anymore. You started clenching down on him harder and harder. 

Your cunt was locking him in and all he could do was groan. The final push was when he moaned directly into your ear. You came all over his cock letting your moans hit his ear. He pulled out of you stroking his cock “Where do you want me to cum baby?” he whined, feeling close.

“I want it in my mouth” you begged and that was all he needed. He slowly lifted your body from the table as you fell to your knees in front of him, allowing him to push his cock into your mouth. 

He shoved it deep inside, causing you to deep-throat it, and came straight down your throat. “Fuck, I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner.” he grinned. 

“It’s all your fault, you were the bully” you whined, trying to find your leggings to pull over your body since the room had gotten significantly cooler. 

“We should get dressed though, we don’t need anyone else to know what we just did” he looked around frantically, a worried look on his face, causing you to laugh.

“You just fucked me on a desk, and now you are scared?” 

“Yes, because I had this whole plan of taking you out to dinner, and buying you this really pretty dress I saw that I thought looked perfect for you and everything” he pouted. 

He looked adorable like this, and you couldn’t believe it was the same man that made your life a living hell, that was now in front of you causing you to coo at his jutted lip. 

“You are so cute” you mumbled, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Maybe love starts off different for everyone. 

_____

You walked into your apartment, hand in hand. A grin splayed on his face as you fought with him about how drinking iced americanos more than twice a day was crazy, and how his heart was going to stop. 

The two of you didn’t even realize that Felix was in your living room until the two of you heard an “I fucking knew it!” 

He was whooping and hollering around your apartment. “I knew it was going to start with this enemies-to-lover type shit and then boom y’all are going to fuck” 

Before the two of you could even utter a single word, he stopped you by continuing. “Please tell me it wasn’t on our shared couch though, it doesn’t need to be fucked on a second time” 

“You what!” you looked at him with fury in your eyes, Hyunjin just laughed at the spectacle playing out in front of him, damn he loved you. 

[moonlinos]

Invisible string (pt. I)

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader / Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Synopsis: With your terrible history of boyfriends during high school, you swore off love and vowed to get through university without a relationship. Things are great: you’re in your junior year, in an uncomplicated arrangement with a friend with benefits, and living in a nice sharehouse with two amazing roommates. But things begin to change once you meet Lee Minho, a student in your new class who vows to change your perspective on love.

♡ Genre: A ‘lite version’ of a soulmate AU, fluff, eventual smut, light angst, pining, jealousy, strangers to friends to lovers, friends with benefits

♡ CW: Swearing, sexual themes and discussions, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

♡ Word count: 16.4k

♡ A/N: This is a three-part story because I can’t shut up. The second part will be posted sometime next week, and I’ll link it here. I’ve been writing all my life and have written for maaaany fandoms, but being on Tumblr as an active reader of SKZ fics made me want to write for them. So, yeah, guess this is what I’m doing now.

part II →

You are woken up by Hyunjin shifting beside you on the bed. He groans, arm reaching to mess with your already closed curtains. You chuckle.

“You know, the curtains won’t close any more than that.”

“I keep telling you your bed is in a terrible position,” He grumbles as you turn to face him with a smile. “Who thought placing a bed right under a window would be a good idea? Mornings are fucking hell here.”

You shrug. “Well, it’s not my house so I didn’t exactly have a say in that matter.”

“I told you a million times I could help you move it.”

“And I told you a million times Mrs. Choi doesn’t like for us to mess with her furniture,” You explain, turning under the sheets so you could face him before bringing your fingers up to pinch his cheek. Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “Speaking of which, you need to leave. You know her rule: no—”

“No boyfriends spending more than two days at the house,” He interrupted you with an eye roll. “I’m not your boyfriend, though, so that rule shouldn’t apply.” He shrugs.

Hyunjin has been one of your best friends since you first met over two years ago. It was Hyunjin’s first college party and one of the many times your housemates had dragged you along on a night out. His friends had dared him to try and chat you up, arguing it would be hilarious to see him get turned down by an older girl. What they hadn’t expected, however, was for Hyunjin’s clumsy attempt at flirting to be so endearing to you; his pink cheeks and bowl-cut hair made him look like a helpless kid despite his height towering over you. Before you knew it, you had spent the entirety of the party talking to him about everything and anything, only stopping once your housemate Eunha emerged from inside the house to drag you home with her as she desperately tried to dodge a rather insistent guy’s advances. After that day, you and Hyunjin became almost inseparable.

You can’t quite pinpoint when you began hooking up. It was meaningless in the best sense of the word. It was simply something that had happened. All you can remember is that Jisung had recently bleached Hyunjin’s hair after yet another dare from his friend. It had started with cuddles, which turned to kisses, which turned to touches, until you eventually slept together for the first time sometime last year after an excruciatingly stressful exam period. It had never once gotten weird between the two of you; the line was always clear: you were just friends who hooked up due to convenience. Everybody had needs and stress and shit complicating their lives, and fucking your best friend was far more practical and safe than going out to look for a random hook-up whenever you needed it.

You find yourself smiling at Hyunjin once again. His now long black hair fell in his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head.

“Yes, you’re not my boyfriend, but how am I supposed to explain what we are to a little old lady?”

“Doesn’t she always say she’s super modern?” Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you with a chuckle. “Maybe she’d like a situationship of her own and you’re depriving her of that by keeping this knowledge to yourself.”

You roll your eyes at his words, attempting to push him off your bed. “Why did you sleep here, anyway?”

Hyunjin sits up on the bed, a pout on his full lips. “I had a shitty date. I was sad and lonely. Glad to know you were paying attention to my story.”

“Hyune,” You sigh, ‘When you tell me said story while fucking me, can I really be blamed for not remembering anything?”

Hyunjin flicks your forehead lightly. “Yes, you can. At this point, it’s like our thing to vent about bad dates during sex,” He argues before getting up from your bed, finding his shirt, which had somehow been thrown over your study desk.

“You mean it’s your thing,” Correcting him, you get up as well, turning to fix up your sheets. “I don’t even go on dates and you know that. The only thing I vent to you about is how awful academic life is.”

Once you turned to face him again, Hyunjin was busy messily tying his hair. His brows promptly furrowed as he took in your words. “Remind me why you literally never leave the house again?”

“Just don’t want to get distracted. Getting my degree is more important than getting a boyfriend.” You lie with a shrug.

Your history with relationships was something you kept secret from everyone you met after high school. You feel embarrassed, as if it was all somehow your fault. After five failed relationships where you had been the one to be broken up with or cheated on, you began to accept that maybe the problem really was you. Maybe something about you makes men want to yell at and cheat on you. Perhaps you are just bound to be a distraction until they find someone better.

Which is why you don’t date.

Would anyone go through the hassle of reading a long, tedious book if they already knew about the bad ending?

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your answer, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your degree isn’t going to keep you company when you’re eighty and alone.”

“Well, my degree isn’t going to wake up one day and suddenly decide to leave me either,” you refute, earning an annoyed groan from your friend as you walk past him to leave your room.

“You literally never have fun, though. All you do is go to class, work, and study. You should at least pick up a new hobby,” Hyunjin insists as he follows you, walking into the kitchen-living room area. “Go out more, stop avoiding college parties like the plague before it’s too late to experience the joys of watching your friend throw up on some random person’s couch.”

You make a face at the offers, grabbing your mug from the cupboard. “Why would I want to see that? Besides, I have hobbies.”

“I meant a social hobby. Sitting in your room watching fucking iceberg videos isn’t sociable,” He explains, and you let out an aggrieved gasp. Your iceberg videos were educational and entertaining, thank you very much. Behind you, your housemate’s bedroom door opens, and you turn to watch as she stumbles out of her room, looking half-awake. “Soojung, don’t you think she should get a new hobby?” Hyunjin addresses the blonde girl, who stares daggers at him.

“If I say yes, will you two stop speaking so loud?”

Hyunjin slams one hand on the kitchen counter, his other pointing a finger at you. “See, she said yes. You’re outnumbered, now you have to stop spending all your free time holed up inside your room.”

Soojung groans, stepping into the kitchen and shoving Hyunjin to the side. “He’s annoying, but he is kind of right,” she mumbles.

Truthfully, you did feel bad about having essentially wasted three years at university by actively avoiding parties and invitations any chance you got. The only parties you did attend, however, only served as an irritating reminder as to why you shouldn’t put yourself in those situations. Parties and bars only meant desperate college boys. Desperate for sex, for attention, for a potential relationship. For someone’s heart to break. You had met Hyunjin at a party, for fuck’s sake. Who knows just how south things between you two could’ve gone if he had become interested in you romantically?

But, as much as you hate to admit it, Hyunjin is right. Your life is essentially an endless loop of studying and working. You only socialize when your roommates are home, when your few friends come over, and when you and Hyunjin hook up. But you aren’t ready to step out of your comfortable bubble of avoidance, so you settle for the best thing you can think of.

As Hyunjin rummages through your fridge like he lived there and Soojung stirs her coffee blankly, you loudly set your mug down on the counter. “An elective course,” you announce.

The both of them turn to face you with the same puzzled expression.

“The fuck?” Hyunjin questions, and you roll your eyes.

“I’ll take an elective,” you explain matter-of-factly, “The university offers a lot of great courses in things I’m actually interested in. It’ll be a way for me to get out of the house without having to watch a friend of mine puke on a couch or whatever atrocity it is that you said.”

Hyunjin slams the fridge door closed, earning a scolding scream from Soojung, and walks over to where you’re standing. He pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You’re such a fucking nerd, what the fuck, but I’m so glad your hermit life is coming to an end.”

The elective course you choose is Japanese. It’s a language you’ve always been interested in learning, and while you know the class is merely introductory, you figure it will be fun to learn some phrases and expressions. You might even find yourself wanting to learn more in the future, and you’ll undoubtedly be glad you took this class during university.

Even if that means having to endure Hyunjin calling you a weeb.

You are able to begin attending classes a week after signing up; the lessons lining up with your work schedule to a T. The professor explained that, since you had joined the course late, you would likely need some guidance with phrases and words the class had already been taught. You didn’t mind, actually feeling excited in the morning despite your boring routine classes since you knew you would be doing something new you enjoyed in the afternoon instead of simply killing time around your house until it was time for you to work.

You walk into your first class ten minutes late, mentally cursing Eunha for being so good at telling stories about her weirdly entertaining life that it made it physically difficult for you to drag yourself away from her. You mouth a brief apology to your professor before scanning the room and scurrying over to the only available seat. 

You sit down in haste so as to not disrupt the class any further, swinging your bag over your chair and accidentally knocking over your seatmate’s water bottle all over his side of the desk. Luckily, the bottle lands on the soft surface of his notebook, barely making any noise. Unluckily, said bottle had been filled with coffee, staining his notes a faded brown color. You silently gasp, instinctively reaching out your hands to fruitlessly try and dry the pages that are now sticking to each other.

“I am so sorry, what the fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you continue to inspect his notebook frantically. “I’ll buy you a new notebook and another cup of coffee as soon as class ends, I promise,” You whisper to him, your eyes boring holes into the stained pages as you watch the bitter liquid slowly dissolve some of the black ink. At this point, you’re rambling out of nervousness, but you can’t seem to stop, adding, “Hell, I’m so angry at myself for what I did I’d bind you a new notebook and brew you some fresh coffee myself.”

You mentally berate yourself for your word vomit. It was just your luck that you would make someone hate your guts on the first day you attended a class.

After what feels like minutes of silence from him, you are prepared for the imminent burst of rage bound to come your way, the guy’s wrath more than likely stirring inside him as he sits beside you and watches as you foolishly shake the piece of paper, hoping it will miraculously return to its untainted state.

However, what you aren’t prepared for is the small burst of laughter that leaves your seatmate’s lips; it’s quiet, but you’re close enough to him to be able to hear it.

You furrow your brows, finally mustering the courage to look up at him for the first time.

“Did you…” You trail off. You feel a strange sensation inside your chest as your eyes meet his. It was something you had never felt before, a small burst of a fluttering that briskly washed over you before disappearing just as quickly. Like a pinwheel was placed inside of you and a strong wind had suddenly started blowing. You shake your head, returning to the matter at hand. You are probably just experiencing some anxiety due to what has happened, you argue mentally. “Did you just laugh at me?”

As you finally take him in properly, the guy before you looks as dazed as you felt just now, courtesy of your minor panic attack; his lips agape and his round eyes blinking while his dark pupils are fixed on you. You two remain that way for a few seconds in an impromptu staring contest that causes the peculiar feeling to bloom inside your chest once again.

When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. “You… offered to bind a notebook for a stranger,” His lips twitch into a grin. “It was a little funny.”

You open your mouth but promptly close it, unable to come up with an answer that wouldn’t make you appear like more of an idiot than you already do. You sigh. “Sorry,” you mumble, your voice low as well. “I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I’m—”

“You two, on the back,” your professor calls out in a louder voice, however still keeping her calm demeanor. You and your seatmate turn to look at her. “I’m going to teach a few new phrases useful for traveling now. How about you two talk after class? This is actually quite perfect. Minho is one of my best students, so he could help you catch up to where we are.” She offers the two of you a small smile, and you feel your cheeks burn.

This class wasn’t mandatory, and you didn’t need it to get your degree. It is still a class, nonetheless. Ever since high school, you’ve always hated people who disrespect their professors by brazenly talking or sleeping during class.

“I’m sorry, professor,” You muttered. Beside you, your seatmate — Minho, as he was just called — scoots closer to you and whispers something you don’t understand under his breath. You look at him, confused. He chuckles, and you feel his breath on your cheek. It makes the odd fluttering return.

“Gomenasai,” He repeats more clearly, his voice louder, “It’s ‘I’m sorry’ in Japanese.” He offers you a smile, and you soak in just how good-looking he is. Ever since you first raised your head to look at him — when the pinwheel inside your chest rapidly spun and unexplainedly made you feel nervous — you knew he was a handsome guy, but his soft smile and calm eyes made him look even more annoyingly pretty.

Before you’re able to do it yourself, your professor speaks again and pulls you out of your trance.

“In this case, Sumimasen would be a bit more appropriate,” she corrects Minho, who clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath. The woman chuckles at his reaction. “It’s okay. This is also something you can explain to Y/N after class.”

As the class went on, you couldn’t help but notice how Minho didn’t take any notes. Your mind latched onto how you ruined his notebook and how it was your fault that he couldn’t properly study during today’s class, so you couldn’t find the courage to offer him some paper so he could take notes.

After almost an hour of unrelenting guilt swallowing you up slowly, you place your hand on Minho’s shoulder as soon as the professor announces class is over after assigning the students a small written assignment.

“We could talk outside? If you want,” you offer him, feeling the now-familiar nervousness come back, making your mouth speak faster than your brain can even think to rationalize, “There’s a bench I really like outside this building. It’s a good spot. There’s a nice shade, and it’s secluded enough that people don’t bother me when I’m studying. Or googling how to bind a notebook.”

Minho lets out a brief chuckle. “Okay. I would love to talk on your favorite bench.”

You blink at him. “I don’t have a favorite bench.”

“Hm, it sure sounded like it. You listed some good attributes of that bench,” He argues, a grin etched onto his lips.

“I told you I say stupid shit when I’m nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow at your words. “You’re nervous?”

“Of course I am. I never bound a notebook before.”

Minho lets out a hearty laugh this time, his head thrown back and his eyes turning into crescent moons before he shakes his head. He picks his notebook off the table, showing you the crinkly light brown-tinted pages. “It’s dry now. I actually kind of like it, gave the pages a sort of vintage vibe. You don’t have to bind me a new notebook,” He reassures you, placing the small book into his bag. “As much as I would love to see how that would turn out.”

And just like that, your nervousness fades away. You smile at Minho, asking that he follow you over to your favorite bench.

The two of you talked for almost two hours. During that time, Minho helped you catch up with the vocabulary and phrases you had missed in class. When you asked him how he was able to know so much off the top of his head, his lips curled into a crooked grin as he sheepishly told you that he had been taking Japanese lessons since he was in high school. He explained that because he procrastinated signing up for an elective course, the advanced class was full by the time he got to it, so he decided to go for the introductory one instead. You chuckled and questioned why he would choose to spend his time on a course when he already knew everything being taught. He shrugged and explained that it was nice to have at least one class in which he didn’t have to try and that the fact that it made him feel smart also helped.

Not even your shift at work was able to make your conversation stop flowing, as Minho offered to walk with you to the coffee shop upon realizing it was near his apartment.

That was one of the many coincidences and things in common you found to have with each other that day.

It started with ordinary things like the fact that Minho had three cats back home just like you and how he had been collecting plushies since he was a child, while you had started your own collection as soon as you had access to money of your own. Or how your favorite authors were Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë — Minho swore you would die if you saw the special edition books he had back at home.

Then, it became a bit more amusing as you found out that Minho had worked at a convenience store chain when he first finished high school, and it was the same one you worked at for your first job after starting university. And you both had worked there for exactly a year and two months before quitting. You then told him about how you ended up attending this university after your top three choices turned you down, and his choices were the same as yours. And just like you, he also got rejected by his top three options, which led him to attend the same university as you.

You two couldn’t hide your bewilderment, eyes widening and lips bursting into laughter as these linked facts kept spilling out during your conversation. It was strange, you thought, but in a comforting way. It was almost as if you two had been living weirdly similar lives, all while having no clue about the other’s existence.

The two of you approach the small coffee shop while talking about your degrees. You try your best not to bore Minho with your ‘existential crisis-inducing psychology talks,’ as Hyunjin always put it, and you mostly listen to him as he talks about programming. He tells you that his dream is to develop cozy games that people can jump into without much thought, simply to relax. He says he knows how stressful life is and that people sometimes need something they can mindlessly do to get their minds off of shit. You resonate with it more than you care to admit, as cozy idle games are one of your favorite things to do while locked inside your room.

“So I do these freelancing gigs to make money but I’m actually set to start my first quote-unquote real job in two weeks,” he beams as you two stop in front of the coffee shop. Minho’s eyes lit up the moment he started speaking about his degree, and although you didn’t understand most of the terms he used, it is always endearing to watch someone talk about something they’re so passionate about. “There’s this guy who’s graduating soon who recruited me and a friend for a project he’s working on, so it’s not technically a job and we’ll work in his living room. I’ll still get some money and the chance to actually develop something, though, so it’s better than nothing.”

You smile at him. “If you like programming as much as your words led me to believe, I’m sure it won’t even feel like a job.”

Minho’s ears turned a faint shade of pink, and he scratched his head. “Sorry, I talked your ear off about shit you don’t even understand.”

“I think everybody likes to hear people talk about things they like,” you assure him, “It was a good talk. I still can’t believe we have so many things in common. It was kind of funny how they kept coming up.”

Minho chuckles, bouncing on the heels of his feet. “Guess the universe is giving us signs that we should be friends.”

“It seems like it.”

That day, you work with a persistent smile engraved on your lips. You can’t remember the last time you felt so good about meeting someone new. Despite your awkward first encounter, you found that talking to Minho was as easy as talking to an old childhood friend. It felt refreshing. The last friend you made was Hyunjin — whom you were so grateful to now for pushing you out of your comfort zone — and after that, you had unknowingly closed yourself off.

Minho had managed to open up your mind to the idea of letting someone in almost comically fast. And you loved that.

It’s been a month since you’ve been attending Japanese classes, and your studying sessions with Minho — which always turned into long conversations on what now had really become your favorite bench — were a weekly appointment, much like having him walk with you to work twice a week.

Today, however, Minho stopped you with a hand on your shoulder as you made your way toward your usual spot. When he asked you if you would like to study at his favorite bakery today instead, his eyes rapidly blinking as he looked at you through his bangs which had grown to slightly cover his eyes since you met him, you just couldn’t say no. He stammered as he promised that the place was even closer than the one where you worked, so you wouldn’t be late for your shift.

You smiled at his apparent nervousness, finding it endearing. You knew all too well how stressed you felt when offering something new or initiating plans with a new friend, and Minho seemed to be the same.

“Good thing you made this offer today, on my day off,” you bumped shoulders with him. “It’s almost like you knew.”

You begin walking, and Minho gently pushes you to the side so that he’s the one walking on the edge of the side of the sidewalk. You shoot him a questioning look, and he blinks at you again.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he chuckles, “My mom taught me a guy shouldn’t let a girl walk on the street side. I know it’s old-fashioned and probably made me seem like an ancient guy who wouldn’t let his wife work or something. Sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s kind of sweet. I never had anyone do that with me.”

You feel the pinwheel twirl inside your chest again.

The two of you approach a familiar building together. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in the floral curtains on the windows and the pretty font adorning the store sign of your favorite bakery. You think about how it would be nice if you two came here on another day. Maybe you could use that opportunity to finally introduce Minho to your other friends.

You only realize Minho has stopped walking when he calls out your name. When you turn around, he’s standing in front of the bakery with a smile.

“This is the place.” He points toward the white door with a nod as you return to where he’s standing.

No fucking way.

“This is your favorite bakery?” You ask, although it is a stupid question. Minho nods. You play with the strap of your bag. “Okay, this is starting to sound ridiculous, but I swear I’m not lying. This is my favorite bakery, too.”

Minho’s eyes widen at your words, and his lips curl into a smile again. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I will not,” You chuckle.

Minho opens the door and the two of you walk inside, the familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods bringing back great memories you made in this place. You often come here with your two roommates; it’s close enough to both your house and university that you can skip out on taking the bus, the atmosphere is always relaxing and comforting, not to mention the delicious cakes they sell. You smile to yourself as you remember Eunha scuffing down far too many slices of their chocolate cake after a nasty breakup a couple of months ago, tears streaming down her face so violently that the poor little old man who owns the shop appeared to check up on her.

“Their lemon cake is my favorite.”

“The lemon cake is what made me—”

You and Minho speak concurrently, with you unable to even finish your sentence before you both freeze for a couple of seconds in front of the only small table available at the crowded shop.

He’s the first one to move, pulling out his chair a bit awkwardly. “We should…” He trails off before clearing his throat as you sit down before him. “Should really make a written list of things we weirdly have in common.”

“At this point, I think it’d be easier if we made one of what we don’t have in common.”

You two settle for the obvious choice of two pieces of lemon cake with a cup of coffee for him and a glass of cola for you. Minho almost looked offended when you informed him that you hate coffee, wondering out loud why you even worked at a coffee shop before ensuring he could change your mind with just the five amazing facts about coffee he thought about off the top of his head. You shrugged him off with a grin. You couldn’t deny the irony of being a barista and having to make endless cups of a drink you despised daily, but you were sure Minho could never change your mind about coffee.

You two talked about your improvement in Japanese in the last month until the waiter returned with your order. Minho insists you’re a natural and could be on his level in a couple of years if you tried, but you roll your eyes at his compliments. You’ve never been naturally good at anything. That wasn’t about to change now.

“You know,” Minho begins once the waiter steps away from your table, looking around the coffee shop. People slowly started to leave as it got later in the day; the place was now much quieter, and the atmosphere even more cozy. “I used to think I would meet somebody in a place like this.”

“Like, in a romantic sense?”

Minho hums, still looking out to his side. You notice his side profile is really pretty, and you have to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

When he returns his gaze to you, he’s the one smiling. “Yes, in a romantic sense. Like being destined to meet someone.”

“Look at you, a hopeless romantic,” You roll your eyes with a chuckle. You never thought of Minho as someone like that. He seemed rather methodical, always following a routine and too engrossed in his codes to be preoccupied with something like love.

Minho furrowed his brows. “Why the eye roll?”

“I just don’t believe in that stuff,” you shrug with a small smile, “Stuff like destiny, soulmates, love…” You trail off, taking your spoon and poking the slice of cake in front of you. “Love has the awful tendency of being bad.”

Of course, you once believed all those things. Doesn’t everybody? But love has shown you time and time again that those are things reserved only for some people. And, clearly, you are not one of them. So why believe in it?

“It’s the most amazing thing in life,” Minho’s voice almost startled you as you were so deeply entranced in your thoughts.

You don’t lift your head to answer him, instead drawing mindless shapes on the icing on top of your cake.

“What is?”

“Love,” He replies in a soft voice. When you finally look at him, you’re surprised to find Minho’s deep eyes already looking at you, a small smile adorning his lips. “Love is the most amazing thing in life.”

You freeze.

You tear your eyes away from him, gaze focusing on the plate in front of you again.

You were careful with your rules. No parties, no bars, no talking to your male co-workers unless absolutely necessary, and no male friends unless they were in a relationship or proved beyond a reasonable doubt to only be interested in you platonically — which was what Minho was. So, why did him bringing up love make you feel so nervous?

Under the table, you unwittingly bounce your leg. This was stupid. Minho has been your friend for a month now; you see each other twice a week, and you talk for hours, always so comfortable around each other in a way that is still so new to you. He has never flirted with you or treated you in any way that led you to believe that he wanted anything more than to be your friend. You will not let your foolish trauma ruin what was proving to be an amazing friendship. He was simply sharing his thoughts on a topic. That’s all love was: a conversation topic.

You force out a chuckle as you snap yourself out of your senseless panic and look up at Minho once more. “We can just agree to disagree?”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, something you can’t quite pinpoint swimming in his deep eyes as he looks at you. Instead of breaking the silence, he scoops up a piece of cake with his spoon and raises it like a glass. You shake your head with a giggle as you realize what he’s doing, toasting your spoons together at the center of the table before you both eat your spoonfuls of cake.

“You know,” He speaks as soon as he’s done eating, his eyes having never left yours. “Love can never be bad. I don’t think so, at least. It never makes anything worse. It can only ever make things better.”

You hum and shift in your seat, lowering your gaze toward the table. The truth is, you hate talking about love. That — coupled with your shame regarding your past relationships — is the reason why you never indulge in this type of conversation, even with your own mother. But years of swallowing down your thoughts and opinions whenever the subject was brought up only caused a buildup of emotions in your throat. So much so that you only realized you were talking once you were midway through a sentence.

“Love can make so many things worse,” you affirmed, your eyes following the polka-dot pattern on the tablecloth, “Losing someone is bad enough, but put love into that equation, and it just worsens tenfold.”

Minho nods. “By that logic, you can say that having someone by your side is always good, but if it’s someone you love, it makes it better tenfold, right?”

You let out a chuckle as you realize you two could go back and forth about that subject for ages.

But it felt good to finally speak out your feelings on the matter, so you continue, “Love can’t be that great if people can so easily fall out of it and for so many different but equally stupid reasons. You’re suddenly not attractive to them anymore, or you have different opinions, or they love picking fights but hate it when it’s the other way around…” You trail off, swallowing down a lump in your throat as you speak out of experience. But Minho didn’t need to know that. You lift your eyes. “Not to mention falling in love with a new person all while supposedly already being in love with someone.”

“That’s not genuine love,” Minho shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, as if it was his first time hearing of such things happening. “Real love is unconditional and understanding. Real love makes the person you love beautiful simply because they’re them. Real love doesn’t allow you to hurt the person you love because it feels like you’re hurting yourself as well.” His expression softens, and his eyes lock onto yours. “And real love makes it so that you can only see the one you love. You can’t possibly fall in love with someone else if you’re truly already in love.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nodding slowly. You hate the fact that part of you is desperate to believe that what Minho said was true. And you hate it even more that an even bigger part has already dismissed every single word that left his lips.

Desperate to shift the subject from Reasons Why My Exes Left Me — which only leaves you feeling sad and pathetic — back to Love Is Amazing, you decide to try and lighten the mood.

“Okay, but then explain to me how love is so great when you can just have sex with anyone, and it feels the same either way?” You question him with a teasing grin on your face. Minho shakes his head with a smile and eats another bite of his cake. You continue, “Be it a stranger at a party you met ten minutes ago or the love of your life, sex will always be sex. Therefore, you’re wrong, mister Love-Makes-Everything-Better.”

Minho chuckles around his mug, eyes closing as he almost spits out his coffee. His eyes are like crescent moons when he looks at you again, clearly amused by your words. “Well, yeah, of course, sex will always feel good no matter who you’re doing it with. It’s sex, and sex feels good,” He shrugs dismissively. “But sex with love is different. You aren’t just fucking, just fulfilling your own desires selfishly. Love makes sex better because you feel good simply by making the person who’s so important to you feel good. It makes you want to melt into the other person and become one with them because close isn’t close enough when you’re in love.

“Touching them feels like a gift, like heaven. Tasting them feels like heaven. Hearing their voice in their most blissful state feels like heaven. The trust and connection you feel in that moment is heaven, and that’s only possible through love. You can have sex with anyone, but you can only make love to someone you love, and those are two different things. That’s how love makes sex better. Therefore, I’m not wrong.”

As you take in Minho’s words, spoken so casually, like it was common knowledge, they leave you speechless. You watch him as he smiles triumphantly when he realizes you aren’t going to refute him — because you can’t refute him.

You berate yourself mentally as you notice the familiar feeling of arousal wash over you as you repeat his words inside your head. Not because it was Minho who said those things, but simply because that kind of sex sounded so good. Good in a way you had never once experienced before. Like heaven, as he had put it.

Your experience with sex has always been simply about fulfilling desires. You thought that was all there was to it.

Until now.

And even so, with your ex-boyfriends, it was always unbalanced. Ninety percent about their pleasure and only ten percent about yours. The first time you had a guy go down on you was the first time you had sex with Hyunjin, and by that point, you had already had five boyfriends. It felt weird when it happened, and you remember Hyunjin whining about how you didn’t have to ask him every five minutes if he was really okay with doing that. It had always been different with him, the good kind of different. He had never been selfish during sex; if anything, Hyunjin was too much of a giver, sometimes forgetting about his own pleasure in order to focus on yours. You thought that was the best sex you could ever have.

Until now.

Because, even with Hyunjin, there was never a genuine connection. It never felt like a gift to touch him and have him touch you. It was never anything more than sex, more than something you both did because it felt good and it was easy. He slept in your bed, and he cuddled you until morning came, but it had never once felt anything close to what Minho described.

You can’t help but wonder if Minho has ever experienced that. You desperately want to ask him, but you two aren’t close enough for that yet.

You also can’t help but wonder why you spend the rest of the evening raging a war against yourself as your mind is consumed with thoughts of what it would be like to experience that kind of sex with him.

It’s late in the night on the following Saturday, and your phone incessantly vibrating under your pillow rudely demands your attention just as you’re about to fall asleep. You squint your eyes as you type in your password. You sigh as you see Hyunjin’s name on your screen because of course it’s him.

Hyune: I’m outside open the door Hyune: please open the door? quick? Hyune: mrs. choi is gonna kill me if I use the intercom pls I don’t wanna die Hyune: I’m in my pajamas do you know how humiliating this is

Hyune: and I’m highkey pissed off Hyune: I WILL sleep on the bench outside your house if you don’t let me in and then I’ll die and who’s gonna live with the guilt? Hyune: you Hyune: OPENM TEH DOOR

You roll your eyes at his dramatic texts, stepping out of the comfort of your bed and padding across the floor as quietly as possible so as not to wake up your roommates. You open your front door and speed past the hallway and Mrs. Choi’s home, reaching the outside door in record time. It’s something you’ve done more times than you care to admit in order to let Hyunjin into your house. Your tenant was a sweet woman, insistent that she was modern and understanding of ‘young people’, but she despised people coming into your home any later than midnight.

You step outside, finding Hyunjin pacing back and forth like a creep in front of your house. True to his words, he stood in his checkered pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail, the strands messily sticking out everywhere like he had tossed and turned in bed before coming here.

“You look like shit,” you speak up, causing him to jump and let out a gasp. You chuckle as he scowls at you, climbing the few steps to reach the door.

“I had a fight with Mingyu,” he grumbles as you two walk toward your front door. “He told me I spilled paint on his favorite shirt, which is fucking impossible since I don’t even paint anywhere near his shit.” 

“I mean, you are a messy painter.”

Hyunjin shoots you a look as you close your front door behind you. You take off your shoes and walk toward your bedroom in silence. This was routine. Hyunjin knew the rules: no knocking on the outside door, no buzzing the intercom, no shouting from outside, keep your voice down in the hallway, no talking until you reach your bedroom. It was all automatic at this point.

His voice is louder when he speaks again inside your locked bedroom. “First of all, I am not a messy painter. The paint is messy, not me. Second of all, if Mingyu wasn’t a fucking idiot, maybe he wouldn’t leave his favorite shirt on the floor of the living room right by my art corner,” Hyunjin huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, “If that’s how he treats his favorite shirt, I feel bad for his girlfriend.”

You let out a chuckle, which is cut short by him pulling you into his arms. “Hyunjin, that analogy makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does. You treat your favorite shirt like shit, you treat your girlfriend like shit,” he states matter-of-factly before pulling you into a kiss.

This was routine. It was all automatic at this point.

Hyunjin kisses you like he’s angry. Because he is, and that’s one of the reasons why you two do this. You let out your frustrations during sex. You complain, and you let off steam until you both feel okay again. It’s been this way for a year and some months now, and you never once thought anything of it. It was beneficial for you both, so why change or question it?

But that was before your talk with Minho. Before you were awoken to the truth that you’d been having meaningless sex your whole life.

When you’re pulled away from your thoughts, you’re already laid in your bed with Hyunjin hovering over you. His lips and hands wander through your body as he mumbles things you can’t quite understand; you can only make out your name and Mingyu’s mixed with curses. You try to bring yourself back to the moment, bringing your legs to wrap around Hyunjin’s waist and bring him closer to you.

He stops kissing your neck and yanks his shirt over his head, his hair untying in the process and falling on his face like a curtain. You giggle and try to fix it with your fingers. Hyunjin pouts.

“Don’t you think I’m right?”

You frown and hope he can’t see your confused expression in the dim lighting. You truly weren’t paying any attention to what he had been saying, too engrossed in your thoughts and too busy feeling sorry for yourself. Hyunjin’s tendency to tell you about his frustrations during sex always left you a bit puzzled, but it was also oddly sweet. It was like he trusted you so deeply as a friend that he believed he could share anything with you, no matter the time.

So you nod, lightly pulling at his hair. “Of course you’re right.”

He hums and buries his head on your chest, grinding his hips into your clothed core. “Of course I’m right,” he mumbles under his breath.

Everything is a blur after that, your mind insistent on repeating Minho’s words like an annoying echo. When Hyunjin’s tongue fucked you hastily, and he murmured something about you tasting so good, all you could hear was Minho’s voice telling you how tasting the person you love feels like heaven. When Hyunjin pushed his cock into you, his hands gripping your thighs and head buried in your neck, all you could think about was how this sex paled in comparison to what you could’ve been having — what you could have already had — if only you weren’t so damn unlovable. 

You knew that Minho didn’t intend to make you feel bad with his words. They weren’t targeted at you. But that didn’t stop your mind from sabotaging and putting yourself down. It was one of your biggest talents, after all.

Your body was present and responsive the entire time; you moaned because it felt good, and you kissed Hyunjin because you wanted to. But you were mentally somewhere else.

And the worst thing is, you’re a hundred percent sure Hyunjin doesn’t even notice it.

Because this wasn’t love. This was only sex.

And this was all you had ever known.

Time flies by faster than your brain can comprehend; before you know it, another month goes by. You only managed to go to your favorite bakery with Minho one more time before your work hours were changed, your shift now starting a mere thirty minutes after your Japanese class ends. He still walked you to work twice a week, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t upset you to have to let go of your weekly talks.

Minho also became busier due to his own job. With so little time to see each other face to face outside of class, most of your talks took place over text. He talked about his job with so much adoration it made you a little jealous; his partners were now simply friends he worked with, and his joy over finally being able to create a cozy game made it so that he pushed himself over his limit, often sleeping on his friend’s couch after working until four a.m. and getting through the next day on excessive amounts of coffee.

That was how you two came up with the idea of Minho dropping by the café where you work to pick up coffee for him and his friends. He would drop by at least twice every day, his friend’s house — which also served as their office — only one bus stop away.

The first time Minho came by, he had his wallet and phone in one hand, a sharpie and a block of sticky notes in the other. You eyed him curiously as he scribbled on the piece of paper while your co-worker prepared his coffee. When he was done, he stuck the note to the monitor in front of you on the counter. You furrowed your brows as your eyes shifted from the Japanese words on the bright yellow note back to Minho’s smug face. You were certainly grateful he at least had the courtesy of including the romanization of whatever he had written down. Not that it helped you in any way.

“Since our studying sessions after class were rudely taken from us, this is your extra homework. It’s all words we already learned. You just gotta think a little bit, and you’ll figure it out. You’re smart, I know you can do it,” He assured you.

Expect you weren’t that smart and ended up giving up by the time you got home that night. The piece of paper was no longer sticky on the border due to you carrying it around all day, boring holes into it as if that would magically give you the answer. You snapped a picture of it as you got ready for bed and sent it to Minho, begging him to put you out of your misery and simply give you the answer. ‘I want to drink coffee,’ he replied. You slapped your hand over your forehead with so much force you were sure the entire house had heard you. He was right; you did learn that in class. Curse the Japanese language for being so difficult.

After that, it became a routine. You waited expectantly for Minho’s visits daily, but you are extra excited today. It’s a Friday, and your birthday is tomorrow. After much pestering from Eunha, you agreed to have a small gathering at your house. It only made sense to invite Minho; he’s become one of your closest friends in the two months you’ve known him, after all.

As he walks into the coffee shop, sticky notes and sharpie in hand, you chuckle to yourself. You two chat about the development of his game, with Minho kindly using layman’s terms when explaining it to you. He also tells you about how one of his friends got so frustrated with a code that he threw his phone at a wall before immediately regretting it and crying on the floor next to Minho’s desk. Before you can get worried, he assures you that it’s just an ordinary day at the office, and the three of them end up laughing everything off at the end of the day.

After taking his order, you watch as he begins writing down your homework for the day on the small piece of paper in his hand. As you look around the coffee shop, most tables are empty, and the sun is starting to set outside the glass doors.

“You wanna come over this Saturday?” You ask Minho, who looks up at you before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. That was one thing you learned about Minho since he began coming over: he wears glasses. Not every day, but enough times for you to notice how good he looks with them. But friends find each other attractive all the time, you justify it. “You never came over to my house, and my roommates really want to meet you. Plus, it’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Minho’s eyes widen. “Your birthday? And you save that information to the end?”

“It’s not a big deal. I usually never even celebrate.” You shrug lightly. You’ve never been big on birthdays, as you just don’t see the reason why it’s supposed to feel different from any other day of the year. “But my roommate pestered me to do something this year, so I agreed to have a party.”

Minho shifts on his feet. “I… really hate parties…” He trails off.

“It’s not a party party. I promise!” You hold up your pinky finger. “It’s more of a get-together, just my roommates and my only two other friends. And, you…” You trail off, “If you come.”

Minho blinks his eyes a couple of times before tearing the piece of paper he was writing on from the pad and crumpling it in his hand. He quickly jots down something new and sticks it to your forehead.

“Minho!” You scold him, to which he laughs, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. You advert your gaze from him as your persistent thoughts regarding how unfairly pretty Minho is begin to flood your brain once again. You take the note and analyze it:

はい (Hai)

You smile as you understand the word, looking up at him.

“I’d love to come to your birthday party,” He beams. “Thank you for inviting me.”

To say Minho is nervous would be an understatement.

He gets out of his car twice, ready to march back inside his friend’s apartment like a coward and pretend that nothing happened both times. Only when he thinks back to how you smiled at him when he agreed to your invitation does he find the courage to start the car and drive to your house. He’d noticed for a while now how much he likes you. But it was when he agreed with the idea of going to the café you worked at to pick up coffee that it truly dawned on him that he really liked you. Minho hated taking the bus, he hated doing anything other than zoning out on the couch during his breaks, he hated bustling shops, and he hated how his co-workers both managed to have such intricate coffee orders.

Yet he agreed to that idea, even suggesting he drop by two times a day.

He noticed he’d felt a familiar small whirlpool inside his chest whenever he was with you, when he heard you talk about something you liked or saw you smile. He’s also noticed that this tiny whirlpool has been growing bigger and bigger the more he’s been around you.

But that doesn’t scare him. Minho loves love. He loves to be in love, to love someone, and to make that person feel loved. It’s his favorite thing about life. If he was honest, he missed it so much he didn’t know how he was able to live without it.

Just down the block from your house, he parks his car and gathers his phone and his present for you — clearly clumsily wrapped, even with his co-workers’ help. He feels another wave of nervousness wash over him as he approaches the house; he’s an hour late and needs to mentally prepare to socialize with people he’s never met before. Minho chuckles as he realizes a silly party makes him more nervous than the prospect of possibly falling in love.

You open the door almost as soon as he rings the intercom, and he walks down the hallway into your house door; the crooked box he’s been holding makes his hands sweat. The first thing he notices as you open the door is your styled hair with a big white bow on the back, looking much prettier than the ugly bow he and his friends managed to stick on top of his present. He smiles at the sight and scratches his ear in a futile attempt to stop them from turning red.

God, he really liked you, didn’t he?

“Thank you for coming,” you tell him with a smile. Minho notices the quiet music playing inside the house, the simple decorations, and the cake on top of the kitchen counter. He mentally sighs in relief. This truly wasn’t anything like a big party. “You’re wearing your glasses again,” you point out as Minho walks inside and removes his shoes. He subconsciously reaches his left hand to touch his wire-rimmed glasses that sit on his nose bridge. He grimaces and curses at his friend for making him stay later than he was supposed to today.

“I had no time to go home and change,” He apologizes, fingers now toying with the stupid bow on top of the box. “I usually wear contacts, but they make my eyes dry if I stare at the computer for too long, so I just… wear my glasses at work…” Minho trails off, suddenly feeling stupid, his eyes looking anywhere but toward you.

You chuckle, lightly touching his glasses for a second before moving away again. “You always come to the coffee shop wearing them, and I think you look really good,” you assured him. His eyes quickly met yours, only for you to advert your gaze this time. “You should wear them more often.”

Minho only hums, lightly nodding his head. He feels stupid all over again as the image of himself throwing his contact lenses down the drain crosses his mind.

Clearing his throat, he finally hands you your gift. You giggle at the mismatched wrapping paper and poor excuse of a bow, which makes Minho let out a chuckle and murmur an apology. You open the box, and your eyes light up when you spot the stuffed bunny you have been raving about since you two met. It was the only animal missing from your collection, but you couldn’t find the right time to save up money to buy it. Minho didn’t need to ask if you liked it as he watched your smile grow bigger as you looked at the brown bunny.

“Come, I gotta put him in my bed now,” you beamed and took Minho’s hand in yours, leading him to the living room. There, five people sat on the couch and on the floor. Minho furrows his brows as he takes in a head of light brown hair covered by a familiar beanie. “These are my friends. Eunha’s the girl with short hair on the floor, and Soojung’s the one with blonde hair next to her. They’re also my roommates,” You point at them as you speak. “That’s Jisung sitting next to Soojung; he’s also her boyfriend. And then Hyunjin, with the long hair, sitting next to Chan on the couch. Everyone, this is Minho from my Japanese class.”

With that, you pad off to your room with your bunny in tow. As Chan finally turns to look at Minho, his shocked expression mirrors his. They stare at each other for a while before Chan finally breaks the silence.

“What the fuck, that’s my co-worker.”

Minho narrows his eyes. “So this is why you had to leave an hour earlier today?”

As you come out of your room, you chuckle. “Chan is your co-worker?” You ask Minho, “I can’t believe this. He’s been our friend for longer than I’ve known you. He came like a package deal when Jisung began dating Soojung.”

“Damn, dude, you hate me so much you never talked about me to your friend?” Chan gasped, a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.”

Minho rolls his eyes but is unable to stop a small grin from forming on his lips as the entire living room erupts in laughter. “Of course I talked about you. I talked about you and Seungmin all the time. It’s just I…” Minho shifts on his feet, shrugging. “I never said your names.”

More laughter seeps out of the group of people, including Chan, and Minho finds himself laughing along this time, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

He sits beside Chan on the couch while Hyunjin heads to the kitchen with you. He quickly asks him how he came to be friends with you in the first place. Chan explains that he’s been in a class with Jisung for almost two years, and the boy had always pestered him about ‘old people’ needing to hang out with people their age. That’s how he ended up meeting Soojung as soon as she became Jisung’s girlfriend. You and Eunha were an inevitable addition, seeing as you were not only roommates but also great friends.

You offer Minho a beer, which he declines. As much as he wanted to, no beer was worth having to take the bus back home. He silently sips his cola as he watches your group of friends chat. You end up sitting beside him on the couch, your friend Hyunjin to your right.

Minho finds that he missed getting together with people like this and didn’t even realize it. His only friends were left behind back at home, and although they were less than an hour away by bus, their busy lives prevented them from meeting in person. Minho’s favorite memories from his teenage years were having his friends over and just doing nothing for hours, talking about stupid shit until their stomachs hurt from laughing. Eating takeout on the couch with Chan and Seungmin after work came close, but they were always too tired and too stressed to entertain the idea of making jokes. Those were times when Minho realized he had really become an adult.

Jisung’s loud voice suddenly booms through the living room and startles an already drunk-looking Eunha, who murmurs something about the younger boy giving her a heart attack one day. 

“I’m bored,” he grumbles, draping his body over Soojung. “Let’s play spin the bottle.”

Soojung rolls her eyes at him, flicking his forehead. “Are you a teenager?”

Jisung pouts, sitting up straight once more. “We’re in university. University students play this fucking game all the time,” he states matter-of-factly. “Don’t make me regret falling for an older woman.”

“Jisung, I’m only three years older than you, I’m not—”

“Don’t make me call you noona.”

Soojung inhales deeply before turning to face the people sitting on the couch, placing one of the empty beer bottles scattered around her feet on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play spin the bottle. But let’s do dares instead of kissing, that’s too boring.”

Jisung beams, cuddling close to her like a needy child. Minho chuckles at the sight.

Eunha scoots closer to the couple so the group is seated in a circle around the coffee table, half of them on the couch and half on the floor. Minho never had the chance to play spin the bottle, which seemed to be such a staple game of one’s teenage years. By the time his friends were off sneaking into clubs and drinking behind their parents’ backs, he was already in a committed relationship and well aware of the fact that he didn’t enjoy parties.

It seems silly, but he’s glad he won’t live past his youth without experiencing such a trivial thing.

Soojung spins the bottle, and the neck stops facing Chan while the bottom faces Jisung.

“Take your shirt off,” Jisung waves a finger at Chan, who looks somewhat disoriented. Minho chuckles under his breath just as you do the same. You two face each other and let out a hearty laugh, your arm coming to rest on his bicep before retrieving back to your lap faster than Minho hoped it would.

Soojung squishes Jisung’s cheeks and places a small kiss on his lips. “You’re such a fucking chaotic bisexual,” she giggles, “Y’know, Chan, Jisung has had the biggest crush on you since you two first met.”

Chan shakes his head with a stifled laugh and proceeds to remove his shirt, neatly placing it on his lap.

Jisung is next to spin the bottle, this time landing on Soojung, who you dare to show her most embarrassing text. After showing the group a string of texts showing raunchy screenshots of a manhwa she’d been reading at that time, all sent to one of her class group chats which included some professors, she lets out a heavy sigh and orders Eunha to spin the bottle before any questions can be asked.

This time, the neck faces you while the bottom faces Eunha herself. With a smile, the short-haired girl dares you to kiss Minho.

He feels his smile drop at the very second the words leave her lips. This was not what he had in mind for tonight.

“What?” You sputter, “Why?”

Eunha shrugs, adjusting herself so she’s seated upright and staring right at you. “Well, he’s the only one here who would be actually fun to see you kiss. Jisung and Soojung are okay with each other hooking up with other people, so that’s no fun,” she explains, using her fingers to list her reasons, “I’m not into girls, so that’s no fun for me. Hyunjin is too obvious. We all already know Chan, so it would also be boring. Minho is like fresh meat. That is fun.”

Minho’s brain begins finding a suitable excuse for why you two can’t kiss, because he’s certain you have no interest in doing it. Not only are you friends, but your reaction didn’t exactly exude excitement at the prospect of kissing him. Just as he’s ready to lie through his teeth, you turn to him and place your hand on his shoulder, a touch so soft he’s barely able to feel it through the fabric of his shirt.

“Is this okay with you?” You ask him, the tone of your voice so sweet Minho feels like it melts his every thought until his brain is nothing but a sugary pool filled with only you. So he nods because god, yes, this is okay with him.

You gingerly place your right hand on his cheek, bringing your faces closer until your lips press together. The whirlpool inside his chest spins fast, like a vortex dragging every sense of his body toward you and only you.

You remain still for a few seconds, Minho’s eyes opening slightly to search for any sign of regret on your face. Before he can even properly look at you, your lips begin to move against his — gently and carefully, like you’re not sure if this is what he wants. Minho deepens the kiss and hesitates three times before committing to placing his left hand on your waist. The giggles around the two of you nothing but a muffled murmur to him. He presses another kiss to your lips, his body shifting until he is all but caging you against the back of the couch. But just as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, you push him back with a smile, Minho chasing after your lips.

He blinks a couple of times, eyes zoning into your smudged red lipstick. He subconsciously bites his own bottom lip, wondering if any of the color transferred to him. The surrounding murmurs bring Minho back to the moment this time, awkwardly clearing his throat before lifting himself off of you and sitting upright on the couch. He tunes out every comment regarding the kiss to the best of his abilities, focusing his energy on slowing down his heart rate. When he catches you giggling while looking at him, your arm touching his bicep yet again, he nods, grabbing his cola bottle from the floor and taking a sip.

Minho can’t remember the last time kissing someone got him so worked up. He entered a long-term relationship at such a young age that he’s only now realizing how unaccustomed he is to kissing someone new, to the rush that comes with having your lips pressing against the ones of someone you like. It was exhilarating and a bit terrifying all at the same time. He was awkward, unsure where to put his hands, uncertain if you were enjoying yourself. He was also greedy, wanting the moment to last for much longer than it had.

This had cemented the fact that he does, in fact, really like you.

After kissing you, the whirlpool living in his heart had now fully transformed into a tiny hurricane — with great chances of growing even bigger.

Minho only notices the game has continued upon hearing your voice complaining beside him. He watches as Soojung shrugs.

“It’s the only thing I could think of, sorry.”

“But why?” Hyunjin asks, placing his cup on the coffee table. “It’s a stupid dare.”

The blonde girl scoffs. “No, it’s not. I’ve had to basically live with you two for the past year, and it’s common knowledge how easily you get a boner for her.”

“Not true,” Hyunjin retorts, although it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

Eunha blurts out, “You once got a boner watching her stir a cake mix.”

Hyunjin opens and closes his mouth before groaning, pulling you into his lap by the waist. You apologize to him quietly, to which Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

Minho feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

You sit on Hyunjin’s knees, almost falling off his lap as you clearly try to keep some distance between the two of you. Hyunjin clicks his tongue and pulls you closer to him until your back is pressed up against his chest. He whispers something in your ear, to which you lightly slap his arm as his lips upturn into a grin.

Minho is definitely intruding on something private.

At some point, you turn so you’re sitting across Hyunjin’s lap, your body now facing Minho. He can’t help but watch with dark eyes as the younger boy’s hands wander through your body; playing with the buttons on your blouse, squeezing your thighs, and caressing your skin a little too close to the hem of your skirt. He furrows his brows as he tries to understand your relationship with Hyunjin, seeing as you’re obviously not put off by his hands on your body.

Minho is so transfixed by the sight and his racing thoughts that he only realizes the game has ended when someone taps his shoulder from behind the couch.  When he looks back, Chan is holding a cigarette and motioning towards the stairs that lead to the house’s terrace.

In the chilly open space above the house, they sit on a bench behind a tall vertical planter. Minho wonders who tends to the garden as he observes the various flowers, as well as some vegetables and herbs scattered around him. The terrace is small; the garden taking up all the space, an old wooden railing that overlooks the quiet street the only other thing in his sight.

He and Chan chat about school and work, as they often do nowadays. After Chan recently broke up with his girlfriend, Minho found that his friend had become much more closed off, so the list of subjects they would talk about became minimal. Chan bites his thumb before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He chuckles when he mentions being scared of graduating next year. Minho bumps his shoulder with him, arguing that being in his situation is worse. He admits that he regrets starting university late and that being in his first year when he should already be in his third is discouraging. Chan dismisses his worries, reminding him of how Minho is often the one to fix broken codes and come up with ideas for their game whenever Seungmin gets stuck.

“A degree is just a piece of paper,” Chan says, throwing his cigarette butt at a nearby trashcan. “You’re already a fantastic programmer, Minho.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your ass today.”

Chan shrugs. “You’ve saved my ass basically every day since we started working together.” After a beat of silence, he asks, “Why did you start uni so late, anyway? You never told me.”

Minho hums, digging his brain for a way to sum up the entire story. “It’s complicated—”

He’s interrupted by footsteps on the stairs leading to the terrace. A loud giggle echoes through the open space before you and Hyunjin step into their field of vision. The long-haired boy holds you from behind, and you two stagger toward the railing.

“Wish everyone would go home already so I could just fuck you,” Hyunjin whines as he turns your body around so you’re facing him. Minho almost chokes on nothing at those words, and Chan stifles a laugh with his hand. He curses the small space as they’re able to so clearly hear everything you’re saying.

You playfully kick Hyunjin’s shin. “Don’t say it like that, Hyune, what the fuck.”

“It’s true, though,” Hyunjin continues, pressing you against the railing. He towers over you, so the only thing Minho can see from where he’s seated is your white skirt floating in the wind behind the tall boy. “I had a stressful, terrible, awful, dreadful week. All I kept thinking about was coming over and relaxing with you.”

“See, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so awful.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “There’s nothing awful about fucking. I know how much you like it, don’t act so coy.”

Minho watches as your hands clench around Hyunjin’s gray shirt, pulling him closer and kissing him softly, much like you had done to him a few moments before.

Minho presses his lips into a thin line. He connects every dot available to him inside his head and suddenly feels pathetic.

Hyunjin being too obvious of a choice for you to kiss, his hands all over your body, his words about fucking you, the way you kissed him like it was a habit.

If you had a boyfriend, why did you agree to kiss him?

The words swarm Minho’s brain. He vaguely recalls you and Hyunjin eventually walking out of the terrace. Chan starts a one-sided conversation about one of his classes, with Minho humming after every couple of sentences to appear like he’d been listening when his head is too busy wondering how to feel about everything.

Minho recalls Eunha walking up the stairs and shouting for the two of them to come downstairs to sing you happy birthday. He recalls Hyunjin’s hands wandering through your body throughout the song, his lips pressing small kisses on your face and lips as you smiled. He recalls feeling confused, stressed, jealous, and pathetic.

Minho is only truly back to the present moment once Chan’s voice bids him a loud goodbye, and the door slamming behind him makes his senses finally return to him. As he looks around, he notices that the only people left in the living room are Jisung, Hyunjin, and you. Beside him on the couch, Hyunjin stretches with a loud groan.

“I’m gonna take a shower. D’you have any of my clothes in your room?”

You sigh from where you’re sitting on the floor, resting against the television stand. “Of course, I do. You’re always living shit behind, you’re like our third roommate at this point.”

Hyunjin chuckles, walking over to give you a small peck on the lips before disappearing into your room. Minho gnaws on his bottom lip with a bitter smile as he realizes Hyunjin will sleep over at your house. The ugly feelings return as he remembers his thoughts about you these past few weeks when he unknowingly cultivated too big of a crush on you. Even on his way here tonight, when he had chuckled to himself at his lack of nervousness in the face of potential love.

Love.

Minho can’t help but wonder why your view of love is so negative when you’re in a relationship. And, at the same time, he doesn’t dare to think about it for too long, fully aware that his foolish affection-filled brain will come up with a myriad of reasons — all where your boyfriend is the sole culprit for your distaste — and Minho knows better than to let those thoughts linger for too long inside his mind. He knows himself all too well, knows only awful shit would come out of assuming things about your relationship; the urge to beat Hyunjin senseless for being a shitty boyfriend and making you think that way about love being the worst of them.

“I’m too drunk to go back to my dorm,” Jisung suddenly speaks, his eyes glazed over as he stares ahead. “Gonna crash here tonight, too.”

Minho takes that as his cue to leave.

You walk him outside, a small smile on your face the entire time. He feels guilty not being able to reciprocate the gesture. As you tell him goodbye, thanking him for coming, you pull him into a hug. You hadn’t hugged much since you met, and Minho foolishly wants to draw you closer to him, to feel your body pressed against his just as it was pressed against Hyunjin most of the night. But he can’t do that.

“Are you okay to walk back by yourself?” You ask him as you pull away.

Minho nods, forcing out a small smile. “My car is parked just down the block.”

“That’s why you didn’t drink!” You exclaim with a giggle, “I forget that most people our age already drive. My anxiety didn’t allow me the chance to even try and get a license, so I just accepted my fate of taking the bus.”

“I could drive you…” Minho trails off. There he goes again, being pathetic. “If I have the time… You can give me a call and I’d be happy to drive you anywhere.”

You smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another embrace. Minho smiles genuinely as he buries his head in your hair.

The drive back home has Minho feeling stupid all over again as he thinks about how you’re probably in bed with Hyunjin by now. The whirlpool is back inside his chest, but it isn’t good or welcome this time. It’s agonizing and painful.

Love had never been painful. Love had never been bad.

But he had never experienced love toward someone who already loved somebody else. Although you brazenly state that you don’t believe in it, you must feel some type of love toward Hyunjin if you’re willing to be his girlfriend.

As he silently drives home, Minho finds himself agreeing with you.

Maybe love can be bad, after all.

Minho feels stupid.

This has become a constant in his life.

He had always thought of himself as a logical person. Programming had taught him that everything is predictable and fixable if you work on it hard enough. A broken code? It may take him six hours of staring at the computer to figure out it was nothing but a missing semicolon, but he will get there in the end. It was annoying and frustrating, but it was always something easily fixed.

He thought love was like that. It had always been like that with him.

Until he fell for you.

Minho was coming to terms with the fact that maybe love and programming were nothing alike. Love isn’t predictable. Loving someone who is already in love with someone else isn’t easily fixed. He can’t backspace and delete your boyfriend from the equation.

It’s been a little over six months since you two first met. Minho has consistently gone to the café you work at every day, and you two still had endless talks over text messages. You talk about everything and anything, from silly things like sharing pictures of both your growing plushie collections or your love of that particular coffee shop’s lemon cake to more serious topics like how Minho learned how to cook when he was twelve so his mom wouldn’t have to do it by herself, and now his roommates take advantage of that, or how sad you are that next year you will have to leave the house you’ve grown to love so much.

But, whether it is in person or through text, you still avoid the topic of love. You don’t ever bring up Hyunjin unless he’s part of a story you were already telling, and Minho feels his heart heavy as he slowly allows himself to imagine what it could be that led you to hate love so much.

He desperately wants to ask you, know your reasons, and make sure you’re happy with your boyfriend. But he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and doesn’t know how to go about it without scaring you. So he never does anything, like a coward.

Minho finds himself coming over to your sharehouse on most weekends since summer break ended. Your countless get-togethers at that house have become a hard-to-break habit. Hyunjin, Jisung, and your roommates are always assured to be there, with Chan joining whenever he isn’t overwhelmed with work or school, which was rare.

Minho had always been a hopeless romantic, always doing things for love that people repeatedly warned would result in regret. This time, it was forgoing visiting his parents and friends back home just to spend most of his summer with you. Despite not being able to pursue you in the way he truly wanted to, Minho still wanted to be your friend. You were still a fantastic person he loved to have around; that didn’t change simply because you had a boyfriend. Although he could feel a bit of his heart cracking every time he had to see you, all while knowing he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you.

He couldn’t change your perspective of love if he weren’t allowed to love you.

In all the time he spent at your house during summer break, he ended up becoming good friends with Jisung, as you tended to stick next to Hyunjin most of the time. Minho didn’t mind it; he is your boyfriend, after all. At least, that’s what he repeats to himself every night he comes over like a mantra as he almost masochistically forces himself to watch how Hyunjin kisses your lips and caresses your skin or how you play with his hair and snuggle with him on the couch. He also endures the countless nights he’s left your house knowing all too well that Hyunjin would be spending the night with you in a way that Minho can only ever dream about.

Tonight, in particular, Hyunjin seemed to be all over you like bees on honey, buzzing around you everywhere you went, his hands never leaving your body as he pulled you closer to him every time you even slightly pulled away. Because god forbid your bodies not be touching in some way for even a split second. Before he knows it, Minho is downing his third bottle of beer of the night.

From where he’s sitting on the couch, Minho rolls his eyes as discreetly as he can while he watches Hyunjin pull you to sit on his lap on the floor as you all get ready to play a game of cards. He gnaws on his lower lip because he knows he’s being petty and borderline childish. You’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Of course he’s all over you, of course he wants to be close to you, of course he wants you on his lap. Minho concludes with a bitter chuckle that he is, indeed, pathetic when it comes to you.

He gulps down more of the awful-tasting cheap beer.

The night comes to a close after far too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, with Jisung winning more than half of them. His ethics and morals fly out the window the moment the cards are handed to him, as he manages to create the most absurdly offensive phrases known to men every single time. Minho found himself groaning and yelling at the younger boy as the alcohol took over his system. He doesn’t know how much of it was simply his annoyance at Hyunjin clinging to you like a koala throughout the entire game disguised as competitiveness.

He doesn’t think he’d like to know either.

Like every night he comes over, Minho is the last person to go home. He has to call an Uber, far too buzzed to want to sit at a bus stop all alone at this time of night. He hadn’t even noticed how he kept downing his drinks until he felt the familiar buzz of inebriation wash over his body a while before the game ended. Although slamming his fist into the coffee table with a whine about how he had only been given lame cards should’ve been a sign.

As he waits outside your house by the fence, he suddenly hears the door shut behind him and your voice calling out to him. He smiles at the faint slur of your speech and the way you drag out the last syllable of his name like you always did when you were a bit drunk.

“I told you to wait for me!” You reprimand, opening the gate to stand next to him. “Look how lonely you look here all by yourself.”

Minho just shrugs with a smile, shaking his head. He did wait. He waited almost half an hour after announcing he should leave as you disappeared into your room with Hyunjin. He was still waiting, in fact, only mindlessly scrolling on his phone for the past ten minutes instead of finding a ride as he hoped you would come outside when you saw he wasn’t in the living room anymore.

You poke his shoulder, bringing his attention away from his phone to your smiling face.

“Tonight was fun, wasn’t it? Especially that last round when Hyunjin won after being tied with Jisung for the whole game,” you grinned, “Seeing Jisung make a whole damn case about how much better his card was really made my night. Think that’s the first time I’ve seen him act like a law student since I met him.”

Minho chuckles, bringing his attention back to his phone. Seeing your smile and how your eyes light up while you talk about something you like brought back the whirlpool inside his chest, which wasn’t a pleasant feeling any longer. It made him glum to think how a once beautiful feeling had turned into nothing but discomfort simply because he was lovelorn.

He hums. “You must be proud to have your boyfriend put an end to Jisung’s annoying winning streak.”

“What do you mean?”

Minho looks up from his phone, eyes wandering through your puzzled face. He furrows his brows for a second. Maybe you’re both drunker than he’d thought.

“I mean, it must’ve been nice to see Hyunjin win after Jisung basically made us all want to quit the game,” he explains, watching as your expression turns from confusion into shock before you let out a loud laugh.

Minho’s eyes widen, worried your laughter might wake up your neighbors. He gently shushes you, his arm grabbing your shoulder, but your smiling face only makes his lips stretch out into a grin. He suppresses a giggle as you catch your breath, shaking your head.

Minho smiles at you so fondly he’s certain he looks like an idiot. “What’s so funny?”

“Hyunjin isn’t my boyfriend,” you explain like it’s obvious. “We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”

Minho only then realizes he had never once heard you refer to Hyunjin as a boyfriend, nor had any of the people around you. But his assumptions weren’t so ill-judged, either. You two acted like a couple. It wasn’t so absurd to assume that you were one.

He finds himself staring at your amused face for a few seconds before forcing himself to turn his attention back to his phone.

You acted like a couple, but you were just friends. Minho groaned mentally.

“So, you’re like friends with benefits?”

“Yeah… I don’t particularly believe in love anymore, Minho. I thought you knew that from our talk a while ago,” You chuckle, shifting on your feet. “Hyunjin is one of my best friends. We just hook up ‘cause it’s convenient.”

Minho hums, his fingers ghosting over his phone screen. “Sounds like you’re running away from love.”

He blinks a couple of times as he takes in his own words. He would have never said such a thing if it hadn’t been for the liquid courage flowing through his veins.

You shrug, moving to sit on the white bench just outside the house. “Well, yeah, that is what I’m doing. Love hasn’t been kind to me at all. I have no interest in going after it, only to be hurt again. It’s a movie I’ve watched before and I hated the ending every time.”

Minho bites the inside of his cheek, finally clicking the button to find a ride, his thumb pressing on his phone screen more forcefully than he intended. He felt angry. You didn’t deserve to settle for a friend with benefits due to convenience. Had you wanted to be in that situation, it was your every right to do so, but you were in it out of fear of being hurt.

He felt sad. He wished you didn’t equate your past experiences with love to everything it could be. Bad experiences in love were possible for everyone — even for him, who used to believe unwaveringly that love could never be hurtful — but that didn’t mean it was all there was to it. Minho desperately wanted to show you that. The good side of love, the side that made him put it above everything else in his life on so many occasions, the side that made him crave it even now when it hurt more than it felt good.

And, strangely, Minho felt relieved. It was a small percentage of the chart of current emotions he was experiencing, but prevalent nonetheless. He would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he felt happy Hyunjin wasn’t your boyfriend and, most importantly, that you weren’t stuck in an unhappy or toxic relationship, as he had so often feared.

His ride arrives, and he’s overcome with a wave of courage. Minho would much rather live with regret than with a constant ‘what if’.

Shoving his phone inside his pocket, he offers his hand to you, who looks up at him curiously from where you’re sitting on the bench before taking his hand. Minho pulls you to your feet and hugs you. With his hand on your waist, he pulls your body closer to him, finally holding you tightly the way he’s always wanted to do. He presses a kiss to your head, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, “I’m gonna change your mind.”

He feels your body shake with a chuckle, but he only tightens his hold on you.

“What?”

“About love, I’m gonna change your mind,” He answers matter-of-factly, “You deserve to feel love without being afraid.”

Minho pulls back from the embrace just enough to see your face, and he’s surprised to find you smiling up at him. He smiles back.

“I will change your mind.”

Minho had just dropped you off at your house, ready to drive around aimlessly until he absolutely had to go back to his dorm, when Seungmin texted him.

Kim Seungmin: hey my sister’s engagement dinner is tonight Kim Seungmin: and i might have fucked up something in the code i was working on so now there’s a chance that you fish 100 rare fish at once 🤪 Kim Seungmin: pls pls do me a solid and fix it before chan sees it and kills me? Kim Seungmin: love you hyung 💚

Minho initially groaned at the messages, thinking of the many ways in which he could murder Seungmin and get away with it. But, ultimately, he didn’t want to go back to his dorm anyway, so he gladly turned his car around. If he was lucky, this would take hours and he would have a valid excuse to crash in Chan’s cramped living room.

He punches the code to the front door and his friend greets him with a puzzled expression.

“I forgot to do the, uh, troubleshooting for this week,” Minho blurts out. It’s the first lie he can come up with, and he hopes it’s convincing enough. Chan nods slowly. Seungmin might have saved him from having to endure his roommates on a Saturday night, but he still owes him.

“It’s all good,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’m most likely gonna pull an all-nighter designing these new characters. Anyway, how did you waste your time today?”

Minho has been taking you on what he likes to call Subtle Dates for a month now.

Chan affectionately calls them Waste of Time Dates.

Minho rolls his eyes, sitting down on his own desk. “We went to Han River and walked around till sundown, then watched the Banpo Bridge water show.”

Days like today were rare, so Minho was happy. Most weekends, it seemed as if the whole world was conspiring against anything he planned with you.

“Oh, how romantic of you,” Chan gasps, feigning amazement. “Did you at least kiss her this time?”

“You know I can’t just kiss her like that. I know she’d freak out if I tried to do anything romantic with her,” Minho taps his fingers on his desk, knowing he sounds ridiculous. But he has a plan. He just hopes this plan actually works out soon. “I don’t mind being patient.”

He hears Chan scoff. “So, you took her on another one-sided date and then drove her home so Hyunjin can fuck her?”

Minho’s fingers stop tapping on his desk, his hand coming down to slam on it before he can stop himself. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Chan mumbles an apology. But, the truth is, he knows his friend is right. Just last weekend, Minho dropped you off straight into Hyunjin’s arms, the younger boy waiting for you to come back in front of your house.

And Hyunjin wasn’t the only inconvenience that rendered it almost impossible for the two of you to spend time together. Minho had to cut most of your dates short due to Chan calling him about something urgent that only he could fix at work, or you canceled altogether because your roommate was upset and you didn’t have the heart to leave her alone like that. There were also times when Minho was too tired to even go out at all, like on the day of his birthday, which resulted in you coming over to Chan’s apartment and eating cheap takeout food with him and his two friends.

Minho found himself dealing with countless bumps in the road when it came to finding a way into your heart.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” Chan says hesitantly, “You clearly like her a lot.”

Minho repeatedly opens and closes the code he’s supposed to fix. He sighs. “I like her more than a lot, and I don’t even know when that happened.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt,” His friend explains, his face disappearing behind his own computer screen. “I just can’t see what will change if you go on dates with her when she doesn’t even know they’re dates and if she’s just gonna go home and have sex with someone else. I don’t get it. What difference does it make?”

He can hear Chan scoffing, although he tries to disguise it by clearing his throat. Minho shakes his head.

“It makes all the difference because that’s not love. I wanna show her what love is, and that it isn’t always bad. I promised her that I would.”

Chan sighs, sliding his chair toward the mini-fridge by the couch. “Agree to disagree?” He asks, grabbing a bottle of water and tossing it in Minho’s direction. He grabs it mid-air, just before it hits him in the face, and clicks his tongue.

“Agree to disagree.”

Minho plugs his headphones into the computer, drowning out the noise of Chan’s pen sliding across his iPad with his brown noise playlist. But he can’t drown out the obstinate thought ringing inside his head, screaming at him that Chan is right.

Taking you out on dates — which you don’t even know are dates — doesn’t really make a difference if you’re just going to go back to your convenience with Hyunjin at the end of the day. If you think you’re just friends going out together, and you go back home at night to the comfort of sex without the love you’ve been running away from for so long, what Minho is doing truly is useless. 

It’s just like when he argues with Seungmin through their codes, screaming at the younger boy in all caps about something that’s broken, even though he knows he’s going to be the one who will end up having to fix it.

Minho’s fingers come to a halt on the keyboard.

Closing his work, he opens up Google and finds the first flight he can to Japan. Almost as if he’s on autopilot, and his brain is completely shut off. He books the flight and the cheapest hotel he can find, using almost all the money he’s saved up to move out of his hell of a dorm. It might be the most idiotic thing he has ever done in his life, but he’s so in love it hurts him. And he loves love, and love with you — the thought of that alone has his heart beating at his throat. He doesn’t want to keep on with these futile attempts at trying to make you see that love is good and that, maybe, love can be good with him.

The truth is, he feels scared. Maybe even more scared than you do. He is terrified of knowing the answer, of finding out that maybe he could change your mind about love but that it would simply lead you to someone else’s arms and he would have to endure the pain of unrequited love until it inevitably faded away with time.

Minho would gladly live with that pain if it meant you were happy.

But he needed to know.

He adjusted his glasses — a childhood nervous habit that returned after he started wearing them more often since you complimented him months ago — and retrieved his phone from his backpack.

He typed and deleted more times than he’d like to admit.

Me: Hey, it’s late sorry  Me: Just wanted to know if you’d be up for a trip to Japan? Me: In two weeks Me: For study purposes Me: We’d finally have the chance to use what we learned in class lol Me: Chan was supposed to go with me but he has a family thing so he can’t anymore Me: Everything’s already paid for and he said he doesn’t mind if you go in his place Me: Lmk what you think

Minho’s fingers typed as his brain came up with excuses and lies, sending more messages than he needed to. He couldn’t tell you he booked a whole damn trip with you just to see if maybe, possibly, you have feelings for him too.

He all but throws his phone across his table after turning on Do Not Disturb. He’ll need to muster up the courage before reading your answer, and having his phone buzz for anything that wasn’t your reply would just be torturous. He felt stupid, would feel even more so if you turned down his invitation. He almost doesn’t want you to answer, wants to pretend he never even sent anything.

Because it was stupid.

But love is stupid, and he is in love.

Worst-case scenario, he’s stuck with Chan in Japan for a weekend while he laughs at him.

Best-case scenario, he spends a weekend with you in Japan. No letting you go back to another man at the end of the day, no more hiding that he is taking you out on dates, no more distractions, no more inconveniences of your daily lives.

Minho opens the code he was working on again, quickly typing out:

// NOTE: Minho will fix this.

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! holy knight with saintess!reader scenario [part three]

warnings: obsessive behavior, profane language, religious themes, implied manipulation, physical harassment.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile devoice or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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Part One

Part Two

Epilogue

Hey guys, welcome to part three of this collaborated series with @deathmetalunicorn1! I am currently on break and won't be back until the 14th, but I figured that since I had recently finished this, might as well post it for everyone to enjoy! I will make a post when I come back, so no worries, I'm not going anywhere yet~!

On another note, please keep in mind that no bullying is tolerated on here. If there is, then this segment and the other chapters will be removed in its entirety.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what will happen in today's episode :)

Yoo Kyung-Mi had been born with beauty and was taught to use it to her advantage. Her mother knew what she was talking about. Why else did she remarry a wealthy man and make their lives so much easier? It was so much better than barely getting by on their own, trapped in a dingy apartment and worrying if there will be enough food money until the next paycheck. Kyung-Mi went to university, found work at a gaming company and subsequently, a shadow to use to elevate her reputation. A lackey really, but she preferred the term shadow. It sounded much nicer. 

Her shadow was another game designer; instead of being the literal, living example of a dowdy-looking office worker, her shadow wore nice clothes. She always treated everyone equally in their department, helped whenever she could with their next project and had a nasty temper when provoked. Yoo Kyung-Mi found this out the hard way when she borrowed a coworker’s proposal and presented it at the next meeting, elevating her status as the director in charge of Labyrinth of Love. Her shadow had the fucking nerve to show her the security footage of her being at that extra’s computer, downloading the sample from the desktop and storing it in a flashdrive. 

She tried to deny it, playing the cute card of forgetting to mention the extra as being a collaborator because she was so stressed about the meeting before telling the shadow to make sure to finish her proposal on time because time was money. And then the fucking bitch grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the wall!  Her, the goddamned director! She could fire the shadow’s ass if she wanted to! This was workplace harassment! 

“You’re not the director yet, you idiot.” The shadow whispered in the shell of her ear. “That was an informal announcement, so you’re still an equal amongst us commoners. Honestly Kyung-Mi, when are you going to stop masquerading people’s creations as your own? I’ve told you back in university, during those seminars, that it would bite you in the ass. But you don’t listen.” 

“You wouldn’t be anywhere without me! You cannot live without me!” She spat. Then the shadow backed off, leaving the office as there hadn’t been a confrontation in the first place. Kyung-Mi didn’t know if the shadow was fucking mental or just didn’t give a shit about getting laid off….but she needed her shadow. It was her shadow’s creativity, like everyone else in the company, that helped MorpheusTech make millions from their products. Without them, there wouldn’t be any money. And Kyung-Mi wouldn’t have any ‘inspiration’ to elevate her status in the company. Tit for tat. 

On Monday morning, the shadow presented to the board with a game of her own. And everyone fucking loved it more than hers. Claimed that it was a breath of fresh air from the classic otome game formula. More interactions with the extra characters plus the main cast? And your choices will either boost the gamer’s stats like the Affection Meter, Morale, Reputation, or lower them? It would only be available on their digital store, and they could offer free demos to TubeTubers who have played their products in the past? Sold. The Labyrinth of Love was put on indefinite hiatus. Greenlight Fly Me To The Moon. Give her shadow everything she needs to make sure this project is a success. The company was counting on you, Kyung-Mi. Honored beauty. 

So she did. She stayed late at the office when it was past time for her to go home or go on a date. She missed her massage appointments, her precious Sundays had spent at home working on fine-tuning the game mechanics instead of shopping. Her toys started to lose interest in her. Yet she preserved because she was the heroine in this world and she would not lose.

But the final straw that broke the camel back had been all the shadow’s fault. 

Kyuing-Mi had been eyeing the gorgeous hunk Young-Min from Human Resources for a while. Tall, dark, and looked absolutely ripped in that three-piece Armani suit of his. Oh, did she mention that he was rich and super sweet? Well, now you know. When she had finally mustered the courage to approach him and confess her feelings for him (maybe use him to get rid of a certain someone), she found him with the shadow. He asked the shadow if they could get a cup of coffee later, averting his eyes and looking bashfully at the shadow. His face resembled a tomato when the shadow accepted the invitation, when the shadow smiled at him, and left to go on their break.

Honestly, the shadow should have realized that coveting someone who didn’t belong to her meant being bludgeoned from behind with a stapler. Kyung-Mi will admit that she did….she was a little angry. But if the shadow is dead, the villainess is dead, then that means she has finally everything. Not. She lost everything and got hit by a truck while crossing a busy intersection, desperately trying to search for a job before she lost her townhouse. 

Yet there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, right? Why else would she be here, possessing the heroine of Fly Me To The Moon, Cosette Lovelace? Sure, her character is supposed to be a gamer who got sucked into here and must clear it as a redeemed villainess, but where is the fun in that? All Kyung-Mi wanted to do was pursue after her bias, Sir Palamedes the second-in-command of the Holy Temple’s paladins. 

Of all the capture targets that were created in the shadow’s game, this is the one she had spent most of the time designing and writing both tragic and smutty endings with him. Thank God the shadow never knew that Sir Palamedes’ character concept looked exactly like Young-Min, from his mannerisms right down his little tic of fiddling with his hands when he was nervous.

Obsessed? No, she was observant, thank you. 

With the help of the Affection Level System, her own little playthrough guide, she was able to achieve the objectives needed to enter the Holy Temple of Aesir and unlock Sir Palamedes’ route. Everything was going smoothly until that damned extra, Harry or Harrow, had stopped her from staking her claim on Sir Palamedes. She threw something in her face, and she passed out on the floor. When she, Cosette, regained consciousness, it was almost nightfall. 

Swearing under her breath, she scrambled upright and smoothed out her grass stained skirts before all but running towards the cloisters leading back to her new private quarters. However, from seemingly out of nowhere, two older Sisters flanked her, blocking her path. She was about to turn up the innocent charm, claiming that she hadn’t meant to fall asleep under the tree with a cute  smile  when both of them wordlessly grabbed by the shoulders and hauled her into a cell. A fucking cell! Her! The heroine! 

She asked for food, and was given bread with water. When she was cold, she received a blanket and was left alone until morning. The same Sisters came back, grabbed her again and took her to the sanctuary. The pews were filled, every Brother and Sister was in attendance. The paladins circled around the altar. Her precious High Priest was there, and was her bias. So that fucking extra Harry. 

She frowned. “My flock, what is the meaning of this -” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question because a bolt of white-hot pain seared through her body. What in the world?! She looked down at the floor and there were runes under her feet, then glared back at the Sisters balefully. They had pushed her into a magic circle. How dare they do this to her?! 

Staggering to her feet, she turned her attention to the High Priest. “Father, why am I being subjected to this treatment? What have I done to you, to this congregation?!”  

“You dare to ask such a thing when the crimes against our Brothers and Sisters are so heinous that I cannot repeat them?” Harry said. She looked like shit, honestly, and she probably would look worse if she had that stupid blindfold removed. 

Yoo Kyung-Mi had never seen this character in the game, even in the demo trails….so why does Harry look so damned familiar? 

She watched Harry step forward from behind the altar, past the High Priest and Sir Palamedes. She walked down the steps, and stopped just a few feet away from the magic circle. 

“You know what you have done, Sister Esther. No…You are not worthy of being called a Sister of this Holy Temple. You are a heretic, a liar, and an adulterous beast who has dared to try and defile one of us by using an Asmodian Seed. Where and how did you acquire it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about-” That was when the pain began again. “You-” And again. Fuck, this hurts. It really hurts. 

“Please answer the question and do not try to be clever with your answers lest you actually enjoy being in pain.” Harry said peevishly. “You know what it is because you were the one who had implanted inside Sir Palamedes. Is this not true?” Harry raised her voice. “Were you affected by this wickedness, Sir Palamedes?”

Her precious bias nodded, his beautiful violet eyes hard and cold. “I was, Lady Harrowhark, and swear by the Oath of Fidelity that I was its intended victim. I dare not think what would have happened, if you had not been there to save me.”

“You heard him. Answer truthfully this time.”

So she did. She spat in the bitch’s face. “Allow me to ask you a question, Harry. Who the fuck are you to give me orders?”

Applauded gasps and murmurs bounced across the temple’s walls. One Sister fainted from hearing such profane language, having to be carried out by two of her closest Brothers. 

But Harry didn’t react. 

Instead, she withdrew a handkerchief from her robes pockets and carefully wiped away the spit. Once she was done, she pocketed the dirty rag. Then she lifted her hands up and moved them to the back of her head, untying the mother-of-pearl cloth. She pulled it down, and two eyes that sparked like a pair of sapphires stared right at her.  Sapphires. Eyes. Cosette, Yoo Kyung-Mi, felt her heart drop into her stomach at seeing those eyes. 

The eyes that belonged to the shadow. The eyes Young-Min said were so beautiful that they took his breath away. 

“I am Reverend Sister Harrowhark, God’s Beloved. I am the Possessor of His Eyes -”

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY?!?” Kyung-Mi screamed. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, STOLE FROM ME, AND YOU HAVE THE GODDAMNED NERVE TO LEAVE A PIECE OF YOURSELF IN THIS GAME?!” 

“Heretic -”

“YES, I GAVE IT TO HIM! I GAVE SIR PALAMEDES THE ASOMEDIAN SEED BECAUSE I WANTED HIM! IF HE WERE DEFILED, HE WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MARRY ME, AND I WOULD FINALLY BEAT YOU! YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SHADOW! YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COVET WHAT WAS MINE, YET YOU KEPT TAKING EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME! IS THAT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER, YOU BITCH?!” 

Harrowhark’s mouth closed, tightening into a thin line before she averted her gaze towards the choir pews, where three cloaked figures sat in silence. “Does this outburst suffice as a confession, Your Imperial Highness?” She asked them. 

The one on the right stood up, pulling back his hood and revealing himself to be, indeed, The Glorious Sun of the Helux Empire, Emperor Maximus IV. A tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair and possessed one ruby eye. He had lost his left one in a war. That was all she knew about him. 

But seeing the  identities of his companions, once they pulled back their hoods, that brought Kyung-Mi’s muddled brain back to reality: her parents, Viscount and Viscountess Lovelace. Shit. Fuck. FUCK!

“It does. Words cannot express my anger and disgust at the thought that such a heinous crime would be enacted in the House of Aesir. Allow me, Your Holiness, to carry out her punishment here and now.”

Harrowhark frowned. “Your Imperial Highness -”

“I am already here, Your Holiness. And I have only exercised my royal authority once since I ascended to the throne twenty years ago. If it makes you uncomfortable to do it in the presence of the congregation, I am more than happy to privately announce these crimes in the palace’s interrogation chambers. It is your choice, Your Holiness.” He, the most powerful man in the Empire, lowered his head to Harrowhark. 

Harrowhark sighed. “I beseech you to not address me in such a manner Your Imperial Highness, nor to humble yourself in my presence. In the Holy Temple of Aesir, we are equal under His Eye. Please, raise your head.” The Emperor did. “In regards to the heretic…she must never darken the footsteps of these sacred grounds again, or anywhere else. What happens within the circle of nobility is no concern of mine. The church cannot be intertwined with matters of the state. We are from entirely different worlds, but we must work together to ensure that our people live in peace. Is this a satisfactory answer, Your Imperial Highness?” 

Kyung-Mi choked on her saliva. It would be awful to be separated from her bias, but to also have her silver spoon being taken from her too? She did not want to spend her second life struggling to make a living! She is supposed to be the most beloved person in this game! Everything is supposed to go her way, not Harry’s!

She watched in anxious anticipation as the Emperor, The High Priest, and her parents huddled together, speaking softly until they separated. The Viscount and Viscountess stepped to the side as the others stepped forward. 

The Head Priest glanced around the congregation, raising his arms as he spoke. “Cosette Lovelace, daughter of Viscount Lovelace. For your crimes and heresy against this most holy place, you are excommunicated from the Holy Temple of Aesir until the end of your days. May Aesir forgive you, because…in my heart, at this moment, I cannot bring myself to do so.”

He then stepped back, and the Emperor stepped forward. 

The Emperor inhaled a deep breath, closing his eye for a moment before addressing the congregation. As he did so, palace guards entered from opposite sides of the chapel near the altar. 

“I, Emperor Maximus IV, hereby use my authority in the Holy Temple of Aesir under the witness of all those in attendance. I condemn you to live the rest of your days in prison, in a cell with no windows. You tried to bring darkness to this sacred sanctuary, therefore, you will spend the rest of your days in darkness.” 

Kyung-Mi’s knees buckled, collapsing onto the carpeted floor as she stared at the Emperor in shock. No. No, this can’t be happening! I’m the heroine! I’m supposed to live a life of luxury! I can’t go to jail!  When she saw her parents descend down the stairs, her anxiety slowly dissipated into hope. No. Not yet! They love me! They wouldn’t allow their only child to starve on the streets like a beggar or rot until she was an old hag, right?!

CRACK.

Kyung-Mi’s face stung from the slap she’d just received from her mother. Quivering, she touched the reddening cheek, peering through the curtain of her blue hair at her parents. Her mother was sobbing quietly, covering her face in her hands as her father wrapped his arm around his wife’s quivering shoulders. 

“You are no daughter of mine.” That was all he said before he left alongside his sobbing wife. They left her. They fucking abandoned her when she needed him the most, these….these bastards! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HER? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO GO THE SHADOW’S WAY? IS IT SO AWFUL TO HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER OF HER OWN?!

Then she screamed. She screamed and kicked and cried as the Emperor’s guards tied ropes around her wrists, dragging her down the aisle, towards the doors. Kyung-Mi looked over her shoulder, tears spilling down her face as she stared at Sir Palamedes, hoping Young-Mi would understand she made a mistake and just wanted to be with him, please please save her. 

But he did not look at her with tenderness and devotion as he had in the demo version of the game. Sir Palamedes stood rigidly by Harrowhark’s side, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes cold and guarded. 

It was over. She had lost again. Fuck. FUCK!

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024

Taglist: @sweetbatherodonkey @lxdymoon0357 @certifiedsimpinggalore @queenmimis @amidst-the-tempest @mochinon-yah @tonightwrites @yandere-dark-cupid @average-yandere-enjoyer @thatstrangesheep @faux-ecrivain @cassanderasblog @navierkalani

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

can you please make a fic of ethan with a squirting gf please 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Hi! I'm sorry it's taken me a while to get to this. I hope you like it!💕

Blackout - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: Trying to help a stressed out Ethan unwind leads to you doing something you'd never done before.

Contains: Per the obvious in the ask box, squirting lmao. Oral - m and f receiving.

A/N: this isn't super long. The one I post later will be for all of you that prefer those haha.

Ethan had some pent-up aggression from school, and you knew the perfect way to help him let it out. When he got home from the library, you could tell that he was stressed when he flopped down on the couch.

“You okay, baby?” you said, walking up behind him. You leaned over, your hands going to his chest as he relaxed into the couch at the simple touches. Your head nuzzled into his neck, his curls tickling your face.

“I just think I’m in over my head right now. I’m tutoring someone that doesn’t seem to care if he passes or fails. Like why the fuck am I wasting my time helping him when he doesn’t even care?” he sighed, “I have so much homework to worry about, and I’ve barely seen you for almost two weeks.”

“I’m sorry you’re so stressed, baby,” you said, your hands moving to his shoulders to massage them. “I’m here now, though.”

“I know, but I have three assignments due Sunday that I haven’t even started, so I still don’t really get to spend time with you like I want to,” he let out a light groan when your hands started to work on his neck. “Your hands are like magic.”

You smiled at his words as your hands kept moving. You loved to do whatever you could to help him relax, so you started to get an idea.

You pulled your hands away and walked around to the front of the couch. His eyes were barely opened as he looked at you.

“I think I know the perfect way to help you,” your tone was sweet, but your actions contradicted that when you sat beside him and started to unbutton his jeans. His eyes shot open as they connected with yours. “Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?” He nodded, his anticipation building as you slid his zipper down.

He was already half hard when you pulled it out of his boxers, your mouth salivating at the sight. His eyes shut again when you started to stroke him, his cock getting harder by the second.

You leaned down to lick the precum that started to drip out, humming “Mmm” as you tasted it. You started to lick him from base to tip, his breath hitching in his throat as your skilled tongue moved against him. When you took him in your mouth, his hands went to your hair.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as you took your time, working him inch by inch past your lips.

When you started to gag a little, the grip he had on your hair tightened. As you bobbed your head up and down, your spit was dripping down the rest of him that wouldn’t fit in your mouth. He knew you were able to take all of it though, like you had many times before. His hips started to thrust, the gagging making your throat tighten around him.

“Shit, just like that, baby,” he said, looking down to watch you. “You always do such a good job.”

You were already wet, but his praise made you crave attention to your clit. You tried to push past your own needs, just wanting to make him feel good.

“You gonna swallow all my cum?” he asked, making you whimper with him in your mouth. “You better let me eat your pussy after you’re done.”

You moaned, the vibrations coming from your throat making him groan.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he said, thrusting into your mouth a little faster. Within seconds, he started to release it. He stopped thrusting and let you continue to milk every last drop from him. “I don’t know what I like more…your mouth or your hands.”

You pulled him out of your mouth and started to laugh a little at his words, taking the blissed out expression on his face.

“Thank you, baby. I needed that,” he said, pulling you close to his chest as his breathing started to return to normal. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. You couldn’t get over the throbbing feeling coming from your touch-starved pussy, squirming a little to get some friction. “Don’t think I forgot about you, baby,” he said, noticing your actions, “Let’s go to my room.”

You both quickly got up, him hot on your heels as you made it to his room. He pulled his shirt over his head before taking his pants off, as you started to strip, too. You didn’t want to waste time, knowing he had other things to worry about.

His focus was only on you, though, taking in your naked body as you stood in front of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, nudging you back onto the bed.

You sat up on your elbows in anticipation for what his first move was going to be. He started to crawl on top of you and push you back the rest of the way before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. He started to suck on it, the pressure making you whimper. He moved to the other side, doing the same as your hand went to his hair.

He began to place open mouth kisses as he kissed down your body, his tongue swirling against your flesh as he got closer to where you needed him. When he settled in between your legs, his eyes connected to yours. He smirked at you before leaning his head down and placing gentle licks to your clit.

You were whimpering at how perfectly his tongue moved against your bundle of nerves, finally feeling a little relief. When he slid a finger in, and soon added another, the whimpers turned to moans. He angled them just right, rubbing against that spongey spot inside of you. He started to suck on your clit, a low moan slipping past your lips at the feeling.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you mewled, your breathing getting faster as you started to feel your orgasm building.

He moved his fingers a little harder, as you started to make new sounds he’d never heard before, but he was determined to get you to keep making them. Your hips started to involuntarily move against him, your body desperate for your own release. When your whines got to a higher pitch, he started to slow his fingers, thinking he might’ve been hurting you.

“Are you o-“ he got out before you cut him off.

“No don’t fucking stop!” you yelled, “Ohhh fuuuck.”

Your vision was getting spotty as you felt your orgasm start to hit, your legs tingling at the intensity of it. He started to notice how wet you were, but it was way more that normal as you started to drip out around his fingers. When he slid his fingers out, you started to gush before he could put them back in.

“Holy fuck,” he said, taking in the wetness on your thighs, his hand, and the spot on his bed.

You couldn’t process your thoughts, your brain feeling like mush as you kept letting out shaky whimpers. Ethan watched you in awe as he waited for your breathing to return to normal. One you fully came back down, he started to run his hand along your bare thigh.

“Have you ever done that before?” he questioned, as you looked at him, confused.

“You mean, cum that hard? No,” you laughed, as he shook his head.

“No, baby, have you ever squirted before?” your eyes grew wide at his words, a blush creeping up on your cheeks.

“I didn’t know I could do that, I’m sorry,” you said shyly, not knowing how to react to it.

“Don’t be sorry, that was hot. I have to change the sheets now, but that’s no big deal,” he said, trying to lighten the mood as he noticed you were unsure how to feel. “But before I do, you think I could make you do that again?”

[mavrintarou]

[4:44 PM] Suna Rintarou

Quickly whipped this because I'm trying to find an excuse to not go to the gym. Nothing edited. I know all I ever post about is Rin, Rin, Kiyoomi, Shinsuke, and Rin again... he was just too fitting for this. I'm really trying to expand my fantasy to the other characters.

Warning: Angst, asshole Rin, makeup smut contents .

Rintarou let out a frustrated sigh having been blocked once again. That was three times now in a row.

“Shake it off!” he heard his teammate shout.

“Suna!” Turning his head, he can see his coach signaling for him to rotate out, switching with his other teammate.

As soon as he was off the court, his coach jerked his head, indicating for him to take the empty seat beside him. “What’s going on?”

Rintarou inhales sharply, “bad day, I guess?” He knew what was going on, just didn’t want to speak of it.

“Well, turn that bad day into a good day, shake it off, everyone needs you.” His coach pats his shoulder, “do whatever you gotta do.”

EPJ Raijin lost their second set, this third game will determine their win or not.

With a towel over his head, Rin zoned out, tuning out the sound of the crowd and everything else around him. The only thing on his mind was Y/n.

Three weeks ago, they abruptly ended their casual fling.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, it was definitely, his fault.

He is a hypocrite.

He was the one who said just casual sex. No feelings.

But the moment he saw her at a table with another man he did not recognize at one of Matsumoto’s top restaurants, he lost his shit.

How dare she doll up and wear a red dress, the red dress he purchased for her to go on a date with this mother fucker.

He watched as Y/n looked at her phone, the smile on her face immediately disappeared. Rin looked down at his phone, seeing the Read underneath the photo he sent her.

Y/n glanced up, her eyes scanning the room until they met his. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she responded by tilting her head, mirroring his expression perfectly.

Bathroom. Now. He texted.

Rin didn’t need to look back to see Y/n following him shortly as he made his way to the restroom.

He tugged her into the private room, locking the door behind him. “Really?” His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“Really,” Y/n smiled, and she gave him a spin. “Do you not like it?”

Y/n knew how to rile him up, making the green jealous monster within him wake up and flip a table.

Rin stalked towards her, noticing how her smile slowly faded as she stepped back until she hit the counter of the sink. He pressed himself against her, sandwiching her between him and the counter. His fingers trail along her jaw, “does your date know that I purchased this dress and that I’ve fucked you while you were wearing it?”

“Be careful Rintarou,” she only used his full name when she was serious, “jealousy looks good on you but some might believe you’ve developed feelings for me.”

She has become bold, voicing her feelings each day.

Rin was not oblivious. He knows this casual fling between them needs to end. He wasn’t blind to her recent advances.

How her eyes twinkle for him when he comes over.

How she holds him tighter when he’s rocking deeply inside her.

How she whispers his name with love.

How she kisses his palms before a game, giving him luck.

She is expressing her love for him in every possible way except through words. Because the moment she played that card, he would end the game.

“You’re becoming delusional, Y/n.” He gritted, his lips smirking, “I will admit I am jealous, should I show you how jealous I am?”

They glared at one another, Y/n looking deep into his eyes, searching for the man she fell in love with. Deep down, she knew her place. “Do it,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

His eyes darken and she’s flipped around in a blink of an eye. She sees in the mirror as Rin tugs her dress up, bunching it at her hips, his fingers immediately graze over the thin lacy thong, circling her clit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “Hurry, I have my date I need to get back to.”

“As you wish.”

Y/n half gasped and yelped at his hand and slapped her right ass cheek. Her thong is pushed to the side as feels his cock sliding in between her thighs.

“You’re soaked, was it me or him?” He began rocking, thrusting in between her thighs. He pulled her against him, locking an arm around her shoulder. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, “answer me.”

“You.” Y/n whispered, “you made me this wet…” she whimpered when he rolled his hips, his cock grazing against her clit. “Please… Rin…”

His teeth nips her earlobe as he reached in between them and align his cock to her pussy and slipped inside in one swift thrust. He wastes no time pounding into her from behind. Y/n’s hand comes to cover her mouth.

His groans are heavy against her ear and he hated it, hated how she made him feel. His teeth bite down on her skin, biting down hard until he can feel Y/n flitching and tightening around his cock.

Rin pulls away, satisfied by his mark, knowing it would be visible. He pauses his movement for a second, maneuvering her until she is bent forward before him. His grip on her hips tightened as he resumed his thrusts, pounding until the small bathroom echoed only of their skin slapping.

Y/n drops onto her elbow, head falling forward as her moans are muffled by her hands. He was thrusting deep inside her, triggering her orgasm faster than usual. “Ri – Rin…” she whimpered, a hand reaching behind to push against his abdomen. “Too fast…”

He gripped her wrist and thrust faster until the moment he felt her pussy flutter around his cock.

“Ah,” he groaned coming undone, pounding into her slowly yet hard with each ejaculation. His eyes suddenly widened, “fuck.”

He forgot to wear a condom.

He let go of her wrist and immediately withdrew, his cock was coated with their essence. It wasn’t a time for his cock to twitch lively again at the sight of his cum leaking down Y/n’s pussy and down her thighs.

He swore again, half turned on and half pissed off at himself.

He always wore a condom.

“Here,” he slammed a few bills on the counter, “get yourself the pill. Let’s end this.”

Rin groaned, covering his face. He was such a fucken asshole.

He glanced down at his palms, feeling disheartened by his poor performance, and was convinced that it was all because Y/n hadn’t kissed his palms before the game.

His mind flashed back to the very first time she had done it. She had come to his game, and just before it started, she called his name and took hold of his wrists. Rin looked at her confused, but she gently turned his palms upward and pressed her lips to the center of his hand. “Good luck kisses,” she whispered with a smile.

“Hey, look it’s Y/n.”

Rin’s head snapped up, and he swiftly removed the towel from his head. Before him stood Motoya, gazing towards the crowd behind Rin. In response, Rin pivoted his upper body and scanned the bustling crowd. “Where?”

“Right there!” Motoya pointed.

Rin’s gaze tracked his pointed finger until it intersected with the eyes of the pair he longed for so intensely.

As if caught in the act, she hastily concealed her face and attempted to make a swift getaway.

“Y/n!” Rin roared over the loud music and crowd chatter, chasing after her. He hopped over the barriers and ascended the stairs with determination. “Y/n!” he called out once more, steadily closing the gap between them as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, reaching his limit, he lengthened his strides and snagged her wrist, gently drawing her into his embrace. “Stop, please don’t run,” he implored softly. His arms constricted around her, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  

She remained tensed in his embrace and softly uttered, “you’re the one who walked away.”

“I know, I’m a fucken fool. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I left you. Please,” he pulled away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Please come back to me, I am a mess without you. I need you, Y/n. I –” he blinks the tears back, “I’m in love with you, please come back to me, please.”  

Her eyes widen, hearing the words she longed to hear. Tears filled her pretty eyes as she closed them, letting the tears fall down her cheeks before she nodded her head.

Rin sighed in relief and hugged her once more, “thank God. I love you. I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucken much and it took walking away from you to realize I am in love with you all this time.” He leaned back to cup her face, “please, can I kiss you?”

She extended her hand to gently cup his face, drawing him down to meet her lips. Their mouths danced in a graceful, passionate exchange until they parted, both gasping for breath. Their lips inches apart, “I love… I love you too, Rin. I loved you for a long time.”

“I know, I know baby.” He pressed his lips against hers again. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Y/n nodded, “promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back, “Rin don’t you have a – “

“Suna! Where the fuck did you go? The third set is about to start!”

.

Rin’s mouth never once left Y/n as they stumbled into his apartment. He pulled away briefly to tug off his shirt before his mouth resumed hungrily against hers.

In the grueling third set, EPJ Raijin fought valiantly, shedding blood and sweat, and managed to secure a hard-fought victory. Finally, with the fortunate kisses pressed onto his palm by his beloved, Rin executed his spikes flawlessly, scoring nine crucial points that contributed to their triumphant win.

His hands rest on Y/n’s hips, guiding her backward towards the hall of his place and into his bedroom. He is nervous, almost shy at standing half naked before her. “I… I didn’t get to shower after the game – do you want to shower together?”

Her lips curved upward as she grabbed his hand leading him into his bathroom. She quickly stripped her clothes off and turned on the shower, looking over her shoulder, Rin stood there gawking as if he had never seen her naked before. “You coming?”

He quickly pushed down his joggers and boxers, striding into the shower with her. The water cascaded down their bodies as she reached for his body wash to spread it all over his body.

Rin caught her wrist that was lathering his chest with body wash and brought it down to his cock, he closed her hand around it. He hissed feeling his cock harden from her touch. “Y/n,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her hand.

Y/n stepped closer, pressed her lips to his left nipple, sucking it gently and swirling her tongue around the bud. Her hand tightens around his cock as she strokes him faster.

He hissed, reaching with his other hand to find her clit, “missed this.”

“I missed this too,” Y/n squeezed his cock, pressing her thumb against the tip. She was about to drop to her knees when he stopped her.

“I need to be inside you, now.” He lifted her, her legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck. He easily slipped his cock inside her pussy.

For a brief moment, they savored the intimate moment of being united as one again.

Y/n leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. “Ah!” she breaks the kiss, moaning his name. “We – we forgot a condom – again…”

Rin thrust deeper, pressing his lips to her clavicle. “I’m clean, there – there’s been no one but you…”

Y/n’s arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, her lips to his ear, “that’s not what I mean… Rin – we could risk –“

Rin is reminded of the last time he came inside of her. He is selfish but he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her again, over again and again until he knows she is pregnant.

Y/n pregnant with his baby, he loves the thought of that.

He wanted that.

Y/n moaned loudly into his ear, “you like that?” She tightens her pussy around his cock, hearing him groan, slowing his hips. “You want to knock me up, Rin? You want me to have your baby?” He hummed, agreeing. “You want to breed me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. I want to breed you. Cum inside you again. And again.” His nose trailed along her neck until he reached her ear, “I’m not asking Y/n, I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to put a baby – my baby inside you.” He nipped her earlobe, fastening his thrust. He is so closed, all this promise is knocking him over the edge as he is eager to cum inside of her. “You’re mine.”

Y/n tightens her arms and legs around him, chanting, “yes! Want your baby!” Her tummy coils, tightening and her body trembles in release, cumming around his cock.

Rin pressed Y/n against the tile walls, hooking his arms behind her knees and hoisting her weight so he could pound into her pussy with the purpose to breed.

Her overstimulated pussy fluttered around his cock until he painted her womb with his cum.

Walking over to the seat built into his shower, he sits down, keeping Y/n close as she straddles his lap. They catch their breaths, gazing tiredly yet lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Y/n was about to lift herself off of him when he stopped her, “don’t, not yet.”

She relaxed around him, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re serious about baby-making?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It sounded like in the heat of the moment talk but I’m dead serious. Were you not serious?”

Y/n threaded her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. “Aside from you telling me you love me and want to be with me, I want nothing more than to have your baby.” She lifts herself off, letting his flaccid cock fall limp. “But before that, let us focus on just the two of us for now.” She pressed her lips against his, “take me out on a proper date first.”

Rin grins against her lips, “a little out of order but yes, anything you want.”

. . .

E/n: When I'm writing and releasing my dirty imagination, Rin is the only one I can see getting away with this shit. He can talk about breeding any time and I'll be like... "yes daddy." Please don't be like me. Make good choices. Lol. I'm finishing up on Lord Ushijima... I'll share it soon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[ladykailitha]

Across a Crowded Room Part 2

This has five parts and is complete. It will be released every Saturday.

In this we has Steve's friends be dim, Eddie bringing breakfast, and Steve be a lovable dork.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Steve had been shocked by the greeting of Eddie spinning him around. But not as flabbergasted as when Eddie kissed him on the lips just for saying that he missed him.

After Eddie left, Steve felt three pairs of eyes on him and he squirmed a little under their gaze.

“What?”

“Look,” Maria said, “you have been talking this guy up for weeks. Ever since you announced he was coming to stay for a week. And yeah we knew you had a crush on the guy, but this was holy shit fastest levels of yearning to relationship I’ve ever seen.”

Jarren nodded. “I mean, he’s hotter and cooler than you said he was. Like an actual record deal for his metal band? So cool. Long curly hair and doe eyes? So hot. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

“It better not be,” Steve groused. “Mine!”

Jarren laughed. “All yours, Steve. I promise. But the point I’m trying to make here, is that you kinda blindsided us with this one. Why didn’t you tell us about him before.”

Steve looked over at Robin. “I talk to him all the time. Like prior to him coming out to Chicago, we’d constantly call and text. He’s always commenting on my socials. Like I know I’m slow, but that is extreme levels of dense.”

Jarren and Maria glanced at each other in confusion.

“Wait,” Maria said, “you’re telling me that your ‘stalker’ is that guy?” She pointed toward the door.

Stalker was the name Steve’s friends called Eddie because he would always have commented or liked Steve’s posts by at least the end of the day. Faster than even Robin most days.

“You guys didn’t know?” Robin asked. “Like how many Eddie’s do you think Steve knows?”

Jarren held up on finger and then deflated. “Fuck. Yep. We’re idiots.”

Maria tilted her head back and forth and then shrugged. “Yeaaahhh.”

“I’m going to head home,” Steve said looking at his watch. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

They all waved him off with Maria promising she’d get Robin home safe. As he walked to the door he checked his state of drunkenness. He ran his tongue over his lips and decided that an Uber was a better idea than driving home.

He scheduled the ride on his phone and lit a cigarette. He had graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in education and basically had the whole summer off to get ready for the major change in his life.

Robin was moving out to New York to get her master’s degree and with any luck an internship at the UN as an interpreter.

She was super excited, but it would be the first time since they became friends that they would go their separate ways.

At first she had tried to convince him to do his last year of school in New York so that he could get his teacher’s certificate and teach there.

But as much as Steve was on board with the idea they both realized too quickly that Steve would be miserable in New York.

But Robin?

Robin would thrive.

So they had packed as much time together as they possibly could as they got used to the fact she would be leaving come summer’s end.

His thoughts were interrupted by the driver pulling up. After both of them triple check they were the other’s right person, Steve slid into the back of the car.

“Music or no?” the driver asked, looking at Steve in the rearview mirror.

“No music tonight, man,” Steve said. “I just want a little quiet tonight.”

The driver nodded and directed the car back to the main road that would take Steve home.

Steve made sure to tip well as the ride slipped by in blissful silence.

He thought that he would be thinking nonstop about Robin. About Eddie. About that kiss. But the quiet hum of the car in the darkness soothed Steve mind and while he didn’t sleep, he felt groggy when he got home as if he had.

He thanked the driver and began the slow trek up to the apartment he shared with Robin.

Steve stuck his key into the lock and sighed. Half the apartment was in disarray as it was nothing but half filled boxes and rolls of packing tape and bubble wrap.

Robin had already packed up her stuff and it was sitting in storage waiting for her to tell them to ship it cross country. The only bit of her things that remained was her clothes, which she had been living out of her suitcase, her daily stuff like toothbrush and shit, and her cellphone and laptop.

She had been sharing Steve’s bed because they needed to be next to each other. To hear the other breathe in their sleep. To know that their person was still there.

Yeah, okay so they weren’t handling it as well they had hoped they would.

He had taken off his shoes and flopped face down into the bed when got two messages.

The first was from Robin saying that she was staying the night Maria’s. Something they often did when they got too drunk. The second one was from Eddie.

-Sleep well, angel

Steve blushed. He didn’t even know why. There was just something so sweet about it.

-Night, Eds

He set his phone to the side and rolled over onto his back. He draped his arm of his eyes.

His plan was always going to be telling Eddie he was in love with him. It was also the plan was to move out to California with Eddie after the week. He was going to give up everything to be with him. Because he didn’t think he could live in Chicago by himself.

He had friends here. But without Robin to put a buffer between him and others when he got overwhelmed, he wasn’t sure if he could keep going out. He would become a hermit.

But now that Eddie was going to move out here, Steve knew that he would have other outlets for social interaction. He got along well with the other members of Eddie’s band and it would be great to see them again.

He got up and stripped down to his underwear. He preferred to sleep like that even in the dead of winter, but with Robin sharing the bed with him he had at least been wearing sweats to bed.

He slipped underneath the sheets and wondering what it would be like to feel Eddie’s skin between these sheets.

He fell asleep to the thoughts of Eddie curled up behind him.

****

The next morning was disturbed by the sounds of his soulmate coming home.

“Come on, dingus!” she hollered. “Up! I have coffee and breakfast.”

Steve was up and throwing on a pair sweats, hopping on one foot as he scrambled out to the kitchen.

He skidded to a stop and blinked at the sight before him.

“Look who I found on our doorstep?” Robin greeted cheerfully.

Steve smiled. “Hey, Eds. I’m guessing you are the bearer of breakfast and coffee?”

Robin squawked her outrage, but Eddie grinned. “Sure am, sweetness. Got you that caramel macchiato you love so much, an iced mocha for the lady and a dark roast, cream and two sugars for me.”

Robin glared at him.

“I kid I kid,” he said and handed her the black coffee. “It’s as dark as your soul, Buck.”

She took the coffee and sipped happily. “Yeah, you can keep him.”

Steve laughed.

“If that’s all it took to get soulmate approval,” Eddie teased, “was a single cup of coffee, I would have bought you one years ago.”

Robin pushed at him and then dug into the bag of breakfast sandwiches.

“What’s this?” she asked pulling out a sandwich in a plastic container.

Eddie snatched it out of her hands. “Mine!” He clutched it to his chest and hissed.

Robin held up her hands in surrender. She went back to her digging. She pulled out a breakfast burrito with peppers, onions, mushrooms, eggs and sausage.

“And that one’s mine...” she said sing-song, setting it to the side.

The last one she pulled out was a simple egg, cheese, and sausage on a buttery croissant. She handed it over to Steve.

“Is it creepy he knows our breakfast order?” she asked as she settled into to her coffee and breakfast.

Steve scoffed. “Robin you have posted about that same burrito almost every Sunday for the last two years, if he didn’t know what you liked, then I would be concerned.”

“Oops!” she said around a bit of food.

Eddie just shook his head and dived into his breakfast.

“What did you get, Eds?” Steve asked.

Eddie had just taken a bite, so he didn’t answer immediately. But he moaned happily around his bite.

“That, my darlin’,” he said once his mouth was clear, “is an eggs Benedict in a breakfast sandwich and I’m in heaven.” He wiped his mouth with his fingers and sucked on them to lick them clean.

Steve’s eyes went wide as he followed the movement. He licked the bottom of his lip and forced himself to look away before the situation got uncomfortable.

“It’s almost as good as the eggs Benedict Uncle Wayne used to make. I see why you guys love that place so much.”

“Yeah...” Robin said, “I’m gonna talk to Kendra and see if I can sleep on her sofa this week...”

Eddie and Steve’s heads snapped her direction.

“What?” Eddie asked, oblivious to Steve’s torture.

Robin rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be around when the tension finally breaks and you fuck like rabbits on every surface of this apartment. Just clean up after yourselves, yeah?”

She hastily finished her burrito and kissed Steve’s cheek. She walked down the hallway to their bedroom to change out what she was wearing and to shower.

Eddie chuckled at her swift exit. “I didn’t realize I was being that obvious.”

“I think it was the moan that got her,” Steve muttered going back to his sandwich.

Eddie leaned forward and whispered, “Why, darlin'? Did it get you?”

Steve blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. He chewed on his bottom lip and then nodded.

Eddie wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

“Eds!” Steve groaned, pushing the other man’s shoulder. “At least wait until she goes to work, yeah?”

Eddie cackled. “All right, darlin’. I’ll be good until then. But after that, all bets are off.”

Steve felt like heat slid down his spine to pool in his gut.

He gulped and went back to his sandwich. Eddie and Steve were finishing up their breakfast when Robin came back out. She had her bag thrown over one shoulder, ready to go.

“I’m off at five,” she said. “So if you two wanted meet somewhere for dinner, just text me before then.”

She kissed both of them on the cheek goodbye and sauntered out the apartment with a cheerful wave and a “Don’t do anything I would do!” said over her shoulder.

“I’m not sure which of us the menace anymore,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

Eddie pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Babe, you share the same brain cell, I’m pretty sure the answer is both of you.”

Steve snorted but couldn’t deny that Eddie was probably right.

“I’m going to miss her when she moves to New York,” he said softly.

Eddie held Steve tightly. “I know, sweetheart. Have you thought about what you want to do after she’s gone? I mean I know you were planning on moving out...” he makes a vague hand motion at the mess around them, “but where were you thinking?”

“Originally or now?” Steve asked after a moment or so just staring at him blankly.

“Is the plan different now that I’m in Chicago?” Eddie asked, pulling back so he could look Steve in the eye.

Steve pursed his lips and nodded.

“Stevie...” Eddie said warningly.

“What?”

“What was your original plan?” he asked dryly.

“Throw myself at you and move to California with you when you went back at the end of the week?” Steve said with a grimace.

Eddie blinked a moment. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Steve asked tilting his head.

Eddie steered him over to the sofa and sat him down on it. “Let’s talk about this for a minute, because even though we want the same things it seems like we’re not on the same page yet.”

Steve furrowed his brow but nodded anyway.

“Hey,” Eddie said firmly. “I’m not saying that’s a bad thing or that I don’t want to be with you. I do, but we need to have a talk about what being together means, okay?”

Steve let out a rough sigh. “Yeah okay.”

“So tell me about this plan of yours.”

Eddie settled himself on the sofa, twisting his body so he was facing Steve. He leaned one arm against the back of the sofa and laced his hands together, giving Steve his full attention.

“I was going to confess my feelings for you tonight over a fancy dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant,” Steve began. “Which I’m still taking you to, but maybe not tonight.”

Eddie smiled encouragingly. “Sounds good so far. What’s next?”

“And then if you told me you felt the same,” Steve continued, ducking his head, “I’d spend the rest of the week trying to convince you to let me go back with you to California.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “And what would you do back in Cali, baby?”

“I’d bartend,” Steve said with a shrug. “It’s what I did when I was going to school here anyway. Then during the day I’d get my teaching certificate in LA.”

Eddie blinked and then his expression softened. “Oh, Stevie. That sounds like a great plan. Too bad I blew by getting a record deal out here, huh?”

Steve laughed. “Nah, it just means I didn’t waste my money getting my teaching certificate for here.”

“So now what’s your plan?” Eddie asked after kissing him fiercely.

Steve shrugged. “Well, you’re here apartment hunting, so I figure I can tag along. Because something that might not work out for you...”

“Might work out for you instead,” Eddie finished. He licked the top row of his teeth thoughtful. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it!”

“Today or later this week?”

Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Go get dressed, baby, I want to go apartment hunting with you.”

Steve kissed him deeply and then went and did as he was told.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: @counting-dollars-counting-stars @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

[writerscall]

Enemies to lovers with spider hazel

author's note/s: 3.6k words. spider!hazel and fellow superhero/vigilante!reader, more of a one-sided annoyances to lovers, really. think kind of supergirl-esque for reader's powers (at least in the flying and strength aspect) and to help visualize reader's mask, click here for reference.

“So that’s, what, five bad guys down for me this week now and three for you? Maybe I’ll sit back and relax tomorrow so you can catch up.”

You can’t see the face behind that mask but you’re sure there’s a shit-eating grin on it. You roll your eyes at the quip. “Oh, fuck off. It’s not a competition.”

Not that that ever changed how annoyed you got whenever the tally was higher in her favor, though. But the webslinger’s count wasn’t what really got you riled up; wasn’t even how smug she could get about it. It was the way she executed the crime fighting skills that you assumed she was learning and making up as she went. Spiderwoman was messy and, ironically, uncoordinated half the time, but the worst part was that she drew too much attention.

You knew attracting the attention of the police and the papers was inevitable, but at least you had the good sense to not make a whole show of being a vigilante. Spiderwoman, on the other hand, just loved to stay and chat.

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that. You know I’m just messing around.” There’s a drop in her tone, clearly making an attempt to ease the tension. “You’re a lot faster than I am with rounding up criminals, so you get extra points for that.”

At that, you allow yourself to smile the tiniest bit. She can’t see it behind your own mask but if she was as observant as she claimed to be, she might see however little of it reached your eyes.

She clears her throat, bringing a hand to scratch at the back of her neck as she says, “So uh, I know it’s getting late and all, but I’ve got my backpack stashed somewhere not far from here and my lunch sandwich is still intact. It’s a pretty big one so you know, if you wanted a post-crime fighting snack…” 

It’s a harmless, friendly gesture so you hold back a scoff and snide comment. You get it — the business you were in was best done alone but it could get lonely after doing it for some time. Besides, masked heroes like the two of you wore masks for a reason: nobody could know who they were, and even fellow vigilantes weren’t an exception to the rule. But you supposed it would be nice to have a friend with the shared experiences.

Just… maybe not her. Or just maybe not yet. This wasn’t like making friends in school, after all.

“Not hungry,” you tell her shortly before lifting yourself off the ground, signaling that your conversation was over and you were leaving.

You hear her say something as you take off, but you can’t be bothered to look back.

Despite it being the last day of the week, you found Fridays particularly hard to get through. Mostly because you were itching for the weekend to come but because the bad guys in the city always seemed to act up during that day. The feeling in your stomach about what your evening patrol might turn out like was a mixture of both fear and excitement, but you tried your best to push it down for the time being. It was only the second period.

“You and Miss Callahan, partners,” your teacher says with a tap to your table as she strides by, listing off other pairs. You look over to Hazel who apparently is already looking at you, her eyes wide with… shock? A hint of nervousness in them too.

Weird. You were sort-of friends through the cheerleaders she was surprisingly close with, Isabel and Brittany, but you’ve never really spoken much to each other. Maybe she was worried you guys wouldn’t click without the other girls around.

You cast her a smile as she gets nearer, sliding the worksheet to the midpoint of the table. “The total number of questions is an even number, 12, so we can each get a half. But we can help each other too, of course.”

Hazel mutters something that sounds like an ‘okay,’ but she mumbles something else under her breath that you can’t quite make out.

Overall, the class goes fine. The osmosis experiment wasn’t too hard to do and the questions were manageable. It was just how Hazel acted throughout the whole hour that threw you off a little. You knew she could be as awkward as she could get excited, and sometimes she talked too much and didn’t pick up on social cues easily, but the whole time she just seemed… uncomfortable, if that was the right word. Like she really wanted to say something or do something but she couldn’t for whatever reason.

Once you’re both done cleaning up, she wastes no time in removing her laboratory coat and shoving it into her bag, but you don’t want to let her get away that easily. Gently, you place a hand on her forearm to stop her. “Hey, Hazel?”

She pauses, eyeing your hand for a second too long before looking at you. Properly looking at you. She could barely do it throughout the experiment.

“I just wanted to ask if everything’s okay?” You bring your hand back and begin to slip off your own coat. “It could be none of my business, so feel free to tell me off if you want, but you just seem a bit out of it.”

Hazel opens her mouth to speak, but her gaze quickly moves from your face to something beside you. Rather, on you; your shirt was pulled to the side while taking off the coat and it exposed the bruise at the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone. Shit.

“Oh, that’s— don’t worry about that. I just tripped and fell hard in P.E. the other day,” you say with a dismissive wave of your hand, pulling your shirt back in place. God, you hoped nothing in your voice or face was giving you away. You doubt her first assumption would be that you were one of the masked vigilantes featured on the news, but she couldn’t be thinking of anything good either if she didn’t buy your excuse.

And she didn’t. “That doesn’t look too good,” Hazel says with a frown.

“It’s fine—”

“Come with me to the locker room? I’ve got something that can probably help with that. I mean, it’s not in the locker room, it’s in my actual locker and I’ll have to go get it from there first before going to the benches, but uh… um, yeah. I-I’ve got something.”

Her ramble ends with a sigh and you can’t help but smile at how she stumbled out all those words. Funny how you were the one all concerned about her just a minute ago and now the tables were turned. You didn’t want anybody seeing your cuts and bruises, or at least didn’t want anybody asking about them, but you didn’t get to ice the one she saw just yet. You’d take whatever ointment or cream she might have stashed away in her locker if it would help.

So you nod your head and walk with her towards the door. “Alright, yeah. I’m sure you know a thing or two about treating bruises, what with all that fighting you do.”

You almost bump into her when she stops and whips her head at you sharply, that wide-eyed look back on her face. What was with her today?

“Your fight club? With Isabel and Brittany and all those other girls?”

Hazel visibly deflates and lets out a half nervous, half relieved-sounding noise at that. “Yeah, yeah! Always gotta be prepared.”

You say nothing in return and follow along to her locker, deciding not to overthink it. Hazel could just be a little odd and there was nothing wrong with that.

“Ah—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, being even more careful than earlier with moving your shirt and bra strap to the side to expose the bruise more.

“It’s okay, just… I think it would be easier if I took my top off for this?”

Hazel actually makes a sound when she gulps. You’re quick to add, “Only if you’re comfortable with that, no pressure at all. It’s just that the bruise kinda trails off to the back too, so…”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. Whatever you’re more comfortable with. I’ll just…” she trails off, turning away so you can take your shirt off.

“Haze, you don’t have to do that,” you say with a chuckle. But it was instinct as it was for everyone when somebody was changing in their presence, and you knew there was an extra kick to it now for her.

Brittany and Isabel were always just poking fun, but you knew they teased Hazel about you sometimes. Both girls even asked you about your possible interest in her more than once. Hazel was cute and you did want to get to know her more, especially see how she was in that fight club because they always said she was different in that element. But considering your own after-school activities, dating was just out of the question.

Silently, Hazel turns back, cap off the tub of gel in her waiting hands. It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look nowhere else but your face and the area of the bruise, so you reach out and smile at her reassuringly. “Nothing to worry about. I know you’ve seen boobs before.”

“Well, not your boobs.”

She says it so casually that you’re both taken aback, but you just laugh. Thankfully, Hazel laughs along with you too.

You lean against the sink and she comes closer, stopping once her knees knock against yours. “Tell me if I’m pressing hard, okay?”

You smile at her again, softer this time. “Okay.”

It’s comfortably silent as she applies the gel on your bruise. High in vitamin C, she tells you at some point, cause it apparently helps bruises heal faster. Hopefully you didn’t get hit there again tonight so you could actually see if the science behind the gel worked or not.

When you turn around so she can work on the bruise’s extension on your back, you say, “That gel looks like it’s barely used. Do you have a stock of those at your fight club or do you guys just tough it out when someone gets a hit in?”

“This is my personal one, but most of us prefer to use the traditional ice packs. And unlike the rest of them, I heal pretty quickly.” Hazel smiles at your reflection in the mirror and you immediately smile back. You didn’t think it was possible for her to ever have a hint of cockiness in her tone. You kind of liked it.

“Like a regular superhero then, huh?”

She looks away, her smile dropping slightly. “Nothing like that. Um, you’re all good now.”

Hazel reaches for your shirt before you can even ask her to. You thank her with another smile and she moves away so you can put it back on.

As you walk alongside her to the exit, you stop her for a moment before pushing the doors open. “Thank you again. I’m pretty sure the gel is working already.”

Her gaze falls to the ground and once again she’s all fidgety and bashful. You hesitate for a second, but before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean forward to kiss her on the cheek. Just a light, friendly peck, even though ‘friendly’ might’ve been teetering over the edge at that point. Something shifted and you weren’t so sure you’d just laugh it off the next time Brittany or Isabel asked you about Hazel again.

You walk out of the locker room together, shyly glancing and smiling at one another until you have to part ways for your next classes.

Christ on a cross, you were really fucking tired. The city had been quiet since you started surveying it at around five o’clock and you were highly considering calling it a day at around half past seven, leave whatever happened in the later hours to the other crime fighters your city had one too many of. Hell, even to whatever cops who might be able to do their job properly for a change.

But a trio of snatchers caught your eye as soon as the thought occurred to you. So much for an earlier end to the week.

And you had them subdued with ease. Two of them were clearly new to the life of crime or just greatly inexperienced, and the other one was yelling at them half the time. Despite your skill and inhuman qualities, however, they were all relatively bigger than you so knocking them all out still took some time. You were two down with one to go when you heard a thwipping sound by your ear, and in the next split second, the snatcher was webbed to the wall.

Then you heard that voice. “Looked like you needed a hand.”

You look over your shoulder, groaning. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, I wanted to help you anyway. You’re welcome!”

“I’m not thanking you!”

The blare of police sirens comes not long after and you and Spiderwoman flee the scene before any of the cars come to a stop. Flying got you ahead of her since she relied on buildings to swing off from, but she caught up to you in no time. In just a few minutes, you were both back on the rooftop you left her at earlier in the week.

“You know, you’re right for making sure to never have to talk to the cops after putting the bad guys down. I should do that more. Those people really don’t like us.”

“I think you just talk a little too much for their liking.”

It’s not meant to be funny, but she laughs at you anyway. You might’ve put your guard down and decided to not be so irritated if it weren’t for the throbbing pain near your shoulder. You were sure the bruise there got bigger and worse after one of the snatchers got a good punch in that area.

“Yeah, well, I’m calling it a night. The city’s been quiet enough except for that one incident today, so I’m going home.” You sigh, moving to walk past her. “You should, too.”

“Hold on, I…”

You stop, waiting like she asked. If she was gonna ask you to hang out and share a sandwich again, she still wasn’t getting the answer she wanted.

She’s in a silent debate with herself for too long and you really, really wanted to go, so you say goodbye and start walking again. But just as you come shoulder to shoulder with her, she reaches out to touch yours and you wince back in pain. It just had to be the bruised one.

“Oh god, sorry.” She says as she takes her hand away. “Are you okay?”

“Obviously not, but I’ll be fine the next time we unfortunately cross paths again.”

“Wait, I just—”

“Look, Spidey, I really don’t have time—”

“Just take the tub of gel home then, if you don’t want me to take a look at it.”

What the hell was she talking about?

Then it hits you, and you freeze in place even before she says your name. Your actual name, written on your birth certificate and school records, written on that worksheet you shared just a couple of hours before.

Slowly, she begins to take off her mask. You almost want to tell her to stop but that wouldn’t change anything. Even if she didn’t show you her face now, you’d see it in two days time on Monday. Maybe even earlier if you happened to bump into her on the weekend.

Your greatest annoyance was the same person you thought you might’ve been developing a bit of a crush on earlier. You could not deal with any of that right now.

So you don’t.

“I know you’re probably freaked out by now, but I promise I haven’t—”

“I need to go.”

A crease forms between her brows. She starts to say something again but you’re quick to cut her off. “I need to go, okay? Just leave me alone.”

Hazel lets out a resigned sigh, looking to the floor as she nods. You fly faster than you ever have to get back home.

Your luck doesn’t get any better over the weekend when you get a fever on Sunday evening, making you miss class for the next three days. A paracetamol usually did the trick after a day, but the fatigue and exhaustion of your secret life was probably getting to you, too. But even with the ugly feeling of a fever, it was actually really nice to just stay in bed and drink soup for a change. It feels like you haven’t properly rested in weeks.

Your mind, however, was still restless. You tried not to look at the news too much in case there was some criminal that got away and it would just make you feel awful for not being able to catch them. But you tried even harder not to message Hazel to talk.

“Hey kiddo, your friend from school is here. Says she has the notes and homework you’ve missed since Monday.” Your dad pops his head in as he speaks. You can’t see who’s behind him, but it was probably Isabel. She’s been checking in on you constantly.

“Yeah, just let Isabel in, dad.”

“Not Isabel,” says a different voice as the door shuts behind her. Speak of the devil. “But I do have Isabel’s notes because they’re way neater than mine,” Hazel adds, a sheepish look on her face.

You don’t say anything as you watch her cross the room, shrugging off her backpack and gently placing it on the seat by your study table. Then she turns to you, and you’re surprised to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “Hazel, what—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just…” She shakes her head, angrily rubbing at her eyes. “I thought something really bad happened to you.”

“It was just a fever,” you tell her as you sit up straighter against your headboard.

“You know what I mean.”

You did. You reach out and pat the space beside you on the bed. “Come on, come here.”

Hazel does as she’s asked. Her gaze was focused on your carpet but you could see that her eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears anymore, although they were rimmed red. “I’m fine, I promise. The fever’s gone now and I’ve been cleared to go back to school tomorrow.”

She nods but she’s still not looking at you, so you take one of her hands in between both of yours in an attempt to make her. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted on Friday night. I just didn’t know what to say and it was… it was a lot to take in at the moment. I was so sure that nobody knew who I was. I panicked.”

“I haven’t told anyone, I swear.” Hazel looks at you then, holding your gaze like her life depended on it. “I know I talk too much but I would never do that to you. Never.”

You can’t tell if she’s quoting you from your last conversation or not on that last part, but you believe her. “I know. I’d never tell anyone about you either, Hazel.”

She looks down at your hands when you rub your thumb across the side of hers and, after a moment, she laces her fingers with yours. There was a burst of warmth in your chest and you could tell there was one in Hazel’s too. So much for your one rule of not dating anyone because of the dangerous part of your life.

Not that you thought the two of you were dating, though.

“So… now what?”

“Well, life goes on as it did before, I guess.” You scoot closer to her, smiling as you add, “But I guess we can hold hands every now and then, if you like.”

“Oh, I like. I very much like,” Hazel replies enthusiastically, a matching smile on her face. She holds on to your hand tighter. “Can I kiss you every now and then too?”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

But that’s changed in a heartbeat, both of you leaning forward at the same time. You tug her closer, unlacing your hands so you can bury one in her hair as the other holds on to the side of her face. Hazel kisses you slowly, but there was an urgency to it as well; like something could happen the next day that would ensure she would never be able to do it again — but all things considered, that was an unfortunate thing that very well could happen. You kiss her back just the same, savoring the moment and praying to every god out there that your mom or dad wouldn’t come barging in any time soon.

She pushes you down onto the bed and pulls away with a grin, planting kisses across your cheek and down to your neck. You hold back from verbally reacting to that and the feeling of her hands on your hips, her thumbs gently caressing the skin there. It takes too much energy for you to manage to say, “Hazel, Haze… my parents are home.”

Hazel brings her face back up to yours. Instead of looking disappointed, she just looks pleased. “I know, sorry. Got carried away — I have been fantasizing about this for a while now, though, so cut me a little slack.”

You giggle out an ‘okay’, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Also, if there’s any of that fever bacteria still in me, I apologize in advance if you get sick in a day or two.”

“Don’t even worry about me,” Hazel says with a shake of her head, leaning down to kiss you soundly once more. “I heal fast.”

[chloeangelic]

I’ve spent the past week getting slandered in this community with not a shred of evidence, proof, or receipts of me being a mean girl, “Wish Regina George”, a bully, an asshole, someone who spends more time answering anons than I do writing, or any of the other things I’ve seen people say about me out of absolutely fucking nowhere, seemingly because people have grievances towards Gracie that I know nothing about. I appreciate everyone who has checked in on me and asked how I’m doing. 

ETA: I have spoken to one of the people who posted statements and anons about me and we have squashed the beef. The statements made about me have been debunked and they have deleted their posts. Please leave me and my friends alone - I've gotten harassed directly and indirectly by anons and posts for two months and I'm tired. I'm not gonna prostrate myself and try to convince the internet that I'm a good person when I know I've done my best to always be kind and respectful in this community. My words will inevitably be twisted and I feel paralyzed. The damage to my reputation has already been done.

This is the only time I’ll address this, and my anons will not be turned back on because this is literally slander and a waste of everyone’s time. I’ve seen multiple vague posts about me as well and I’ve chosen to ignore it all, but it gets to a point where it feels like bullying and I’m done with it. When someone goes on tumblr live to rehash the same shallow shit talking post about me (i.e. talking shit about people they’re accusing of talking shit), that’s when I feel like my limit has been crossed, and since that same live devolved into an advertisement for the host’s own writing… This no longer reads like vigilante justice. 

Let me get one thing straight: I am here to write about dick, cock and that old man. I am extremely grateful for the friends I’ve made along the way, and I am beyond appreciative for my readers who support me and who like what I come up with. I am 27 years old, I have a fulltime job, and this is one of my hobbies. If you think I’m going to spend my time in a fandom spamming group chats and being catty, I literally don’t know what to tell you. The few uncomfortable situations I’ve had on here have been addressed and squashed very quickly, whether that’s misunderstandings, accusations or anything else. In a creative space, you are bound to butt heads with people occasionally, or have people who dislike you, and that is fine. I know I have an aloof persona on here, I don’t expect everyone to like me. 

I didn’t block anyone up until two days ago when this tumblr live host posted three anon asks in a row about me, and I decided to block the people who seemingly agreed with anons insisting I’m a mean girl, asshole etc. cause why the fuck wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t anyone? I don’t understand why on earth they’re so mad about me blocking them if they dislike me so much already. My shit is still on ao3 if they want to read it. 

I don’t know what my mutuals do in their own DM’s, or group chats they’re in that I don’t participate in, because I stay in my lane and I spend my time writing. Of course I don’t condone bad behavior but how am I supposed to know what happens in GCs and servers I’m literally not in? Or conversations in servers where I’m not active? I have not witnessed any of my mutuals talking shit in any GCs, period. That’s all I can say. Additionally, this whole big/elite writers discord people were talking about a while ago - if that exists, I wasn’t even invited lmfao how’s that for being a big writer? 

One anon said I was an asshole when they tried to have a conversation with me months back, and I assume this was my Rendezvous anon who I was snarky to cause they were snarky to me. I make it very clear that I have limited patience for anons, and when people in my comments respond back to them, they are responding to a statement that is separate from the person who sent it. 

I am not entertaining this insanity any further than this. I will continue to post my old man porn and interact with my mutuals and reblog gif sets of that same old man cause that’s what I’m on here for. If you don’t like me, you are well within your rights, I assume you have your reasons, and that is ultimately none of my business. Everyone has the right to curate their own experience on a website like this. 

Love, 

Daddy

[rubberfuckey]

summary: After a worried phone call from Wheezie, you decide to come back to Kildare.

wc: 1.3k

a/n: This is set right after season three, let's pretend the time skip in the show doesn't exist (: This is my first post since 2020! Let me know what y'all think <3333 part two??? ;)

Eyes snapping open and with a rush of panic, you try to locate your piercingly loud phone tangled in the sheets somewhere next to you. Who the fuck would be calling me at whatever ungodly hour it is? Finally finding it, you damn near blind yourself with how bright it is and how unadjusted your eyes are. Squinting, too tired and agitated to read it, you swipe to answer the call like muscle memory. 

“Hello?” you huff.

“I’m sorry I know it’s late… but I have a favor to ask.”

“Wheeze? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Hearing her voice sits you straight up in your bed, she has never called this late or has ever asked of anything from you.

“I’m okay, kind of. I’m alive. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“Wheezie-”

“I know,” she cuts you off, “nevermind it was stupid anyways.”

“No, Wheezie, talk to me.”

“It’s just, Rafe,” you flinch at hearing his name, “I’m scared. I’ve never seen him like this before. We know he’s already a pretty angry guy, but this is something different.”

You sit there quietly listening. You left Kildare a year ago, after a nasty breakup with Rafe and trying to break apart the unhealthy codependency you both developed. You transferred to a different state college but you always stayed in touch with Wheezie. Before you and Rafe went wrong, you were close with both his sisters and promised to stay in contact with the young girl you watched grow throughout your time with Rafe. No one knew of course, you and Rafe were completely no contact- opting to block his number after one too many heartwrenching voicemails while obviously under the influence of his favorite white powder. 

Sarah hadn’t tried to reach out, but from what Wheeze had mentioned she got herself distracted with a pogue-turned cop killer-who was proved innocent. What a shit show. You knew it all, countless Facetime calls caught you up to speed. You consoled her through the “death” of Sarah, the “death” of her father and what other trauma presented itself. Sometimes it was too much being constantly reminded of your ex, whom you still loved very deeply, but being there for this poor girl trumped how it made you feel. The feeling went both ways, she stopped you from coming back to the island quite a few times when she told you just how bad things have gotten, insisting that she would be okay, when in reality she really just needed a hug from her honorary sister. He was never brought up, you didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. Something in your gut told you it’s just better if you don’t know what had been going on with him. You appreciated her respecting that boundary. 

“The club is hosting some kind of party in Ward’s honor tomorrow. It’s weird, he was supposed to be dead months ago and the island is just now doing something in memory of him. Probably Rose organized it or something, who knows. Anyways,” she stopped and took in a deep breath, “Rose wants us all to be there and speak about him in front of everyone. I went to ask Rafe what he planned on saying to hopefully find some inspiration but he just went on and on about how ‘the pogues killed him on purpose’ and how ‘they have another thing coming to them if they think they’re just going to get away with it’. I’ve seen him mad before, I’ve watched him punch holes through the walls, scream, yell, and cry. But this…” she trails off, inhaling deeply after her fast paced rant. 

You sigh, not knowing what to say, “Give me some time to get a bag packed and get on the road, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t bother you with his dramatics if I didn’t think it was important.”

“Hey, don’t apologize, I’m glad you told me. I’ll be there soon, just keep working on what you want to say. I’ll help you brainstorm tomorrow while I’m driving if you need me to.”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re seriously the best.”

“Keep your head up Wheeze, get some rest and maybe steer clear of your brother for a little bit.”

After hanging up, you sigh and stare up at your ceiling. Shit.

-

The drive back to the OBX gave you time to think, what would you actually be walking back into? Was his grief manifesting itself into the kind of anger and violence that could be fatal to anyone he saw at fault? You shuddered at the thought. Pulling in to your parent’s driveway, you sent a text to Wheezie telling her you just got in and you’ll meet her at the country club. You could name about a thousand and one places you would rather be than under the same roof as Rafe Cameron for the first time in over a year, but you wanted to pay your respects and be there to support the people that had turned into your bonus family during your 2 year relationship with Rafe. 

“You ready honey?” your mom asks as you slip on your shoes to match the black dress you had chose. 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

The car ride was quiet, your anxiety was palpable as you bit your nails down and bounced your leg uncontrollably. Walking in the familiar doors, all you saw was the looks on people’s faces as they realized you were back on the island and here no less. Pretty much everyone knew who you were, your family’s status not much different from the Cameron’s themselves. You were known as the sweet girl from the affluent family who smiled politely at everyone who looked in your direction and would never hurt a fly. Rafe’s reputation was quite the opposite. When you and Rafe had made your first entrance together at Midsummers at the age of 17, it was the talk of the island. Ignoring the stares and whispers, you held your head high and looked for Wheezie.

Standing next to a huge photo of Ward leant against an easel stood Rafe, watered down whiskey in hand as he blankly looked around at the people in the room. If one more person awkwardly gave him a tight lipped look of sympathy, he was going to lose it. He heard people murmuring and the looks in his direction seemed to increase. Shaking off the feeling like everyone knew something he didn’t, he downed his drink and made his way over to get another. Sofia caught him before he reached the bar and assumed her position under his arm. 

“Maybe slow down on the whiskey?” She meant well, but damn did he need another drink. Looking at her blankly, he kept moving towards the bartender. His father was dead, who gives a fuck how much alcohol his grieving son intakes. Kelce walks into the room from the hallway, looking around frantically, catching sight of Rafe as  he beelines toward him, out of breath. 

“Yo, Rafe, Y/N is here.” 

Rafe nearly chokes on his drink as he looks at Kelce with an unreadable expression, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Y/N, I just saw her walking in with my own two eyes bro.” 

He sets his glass back down and suddenly Sofia was right all along, he needs to slow down on the whiskey if you were really here. He thinks back to the last time he saw you, all the screaming and crying and pleading with you not to leave. Even with the past year's events, he puts losing you at the top of the list of the most painful things he’s ever been through. He understands why you left and couldn’t blame you, but damn did he miss you like you were the air he needed to breathe. You walked in, obviously looking for something or someone as he watched your eyes scan the room until they caught his. He immediately felt nauseous. I’m going to puke, you thought.

part two

[666yourmomdotcom]

A little sub Nete for all the hoes

Good GOD I have too much time on my hands (and still not enough to get my shit done??? WTF)

Anyways here’s a drabble/head cannon of sub Nete (ALSO I HAVE NEVER POSTED SMUT B4 PLS DON’T BE MEAN TO ME)

Warnings- I literally just said tf. Nah jk, orgasm denial, no use of fem pronouns I don’t think?? Sub Neteyam, cursing

***

“Eywa baby please” he whines, writhing on your matt desperately

He was truly, quite a sight to be seen as he lay there with his cock and lower stomach all covered in your spit and pre-cum, sweating, panting and his hands in fists as he desperately tried to keep them away from your hair.

You’d been denying him an orgasm for the past thirty minutes or so and he was about to break.

You ran just one finger up and down the underside of his cock, watching him shudder and shake at the slightest touch. “Nngh yawne, I’m gonna—” you quickly retracted your hand and he let out a cry of displeasure as you let out a derisive laugh “Just from that? How desperate are you?”

“So desperate, so desperate, please sweetheart” he begged you. You hum through your nose as you take one glance up and down him, you gently take his hand in yours and he clutches it tight enough to break the bones, but you pay no mind to that. “Make it till ten and you can cum, before that I’ll ruin it for you”

He audibly whimpers, face full of distain and you can see his own self-doubt “I know you can do it pretty boy; don’t you want to cum?” he nods vigorously “Where?”

“In you—I-inside you” You chuckle and crawl up his body until your sitting on his pelvis, the look on his face is so desperate, you almost felt bad for him. Almost. You rub your finger over his bottom lip, he’s clinging to any physical touch you give him as he kisses your finger over and over. You guide his face to yours and give him a sweet kiss, as you line his cock up and slowly sink down on him. You’ve learned to love the sting after so many nights of having sex, the pain and the pleasure enticed and exited you at the same time.

Neteyam was moaning pathetically into your mouth, he could even kiss you back for all the noise he was making. “God damn” he cried quietly. “Ready?” he can only nod.

You begin to ride him, slowly so he’ll at least have a chance to make it. “One” he lifts his hand up and bites the back of it to quiet himself.

“Two” the tortured look on his face is so sexy you cant help it, you wish you had a human camera to capture the way his eyes are pinched closed and his nose wrinkled.

“Three” Actual tears are falling down his cheeks now, though his eyes are tightly closed.

“Four” his abs are flexing violently as he throws his head back, so desperate to cum yet trying not do so at the same time.

“Fffive” you drawl, rubbing your hand on his chest and feeling his racing heartbeat

“Six”

“Seven” He snatches his hand away and clutches his hair with both hands, looking down to where you’re fucking hum and then groaning and throwing his head back again.

“Eight, just two more baby” he’s actually crying now, frustration, stimulation and pleasure all mix in his head.

“Nine. You can touch Nete” his hands leave his hair to grasp your hips tightly, he’s breathing raggedly and sniffling in between breaths

“…Ten”

His whole back arches off of the ground, making sure his whole dick is inside as his body shakes and pleasure consumes his whole being like a tidal wave. He’s grasping your hips so hard, fucking you up and down on him like a ragdoll as he rides through his orgasm. “O-oh y/n” A few more sloppy thrusts and he collapses back onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling in a sort of drunken haze.

You watch him adoringly as you stroke his face, his lips, his jaw. He’s not quite back from whatever you did to him, so you wait patiently for a few more moments until his mind clears.

“Holy…”

You laugh and kiss his forehead, sliding him out of you gently, you can feel maybe two tablespoons of cum drip down your legs as you do. “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in my entire life,” he says breathlessly, then turns to you, sitting up “Thank you yawne. I love you” “I love you too pretty” you coo, nuzzling your nose to his “Let’s get cleaned up”

[forestmossling]

okay, time for some serious caleo bashing (i’ve been gearing up for it for a while).

so we have leo valdez - admittedly the loneliest and saddest character in pjo (fuck people who think it’s nico because it’s not, and i can elaborate on that in another post if anybody wants me to). his entire character arc is formed by his loneliness - he loses his mother at a very young age, so he’s left without any real, loving family or any kind of safe, stable home for the majority of his adolescence, because foster care throws him around (or he himself is forced to run away) he doesn’t get an opportunity to form any real connections. and then, finally, he gets piper and jason. except he doesn’t, really, because they mostly ignore him in favor of dealing with their rocky relationship. he seemingly gets a family - the hephaestus cabin - but he quickly becomes a social pariah there too because of his abilities and general demeanor (which is, in fact, a coping mechanism). and yes, later on we see him getting on better with his siblings, but that doesn’t happen for a good long while.

his loneliness becomes even more glaringly obvious on argo II. i don’t think i have to remind you of the whole narcissus and echo ordeal. and the way absolutely everyone is paired off, except for him. so he’s basically abandoned by everyone throughout all of hoo - by his family (godly and otherwise) and by his friends and those he tries to befriend.

so how to fix that? how to rid leo of this staggering loneliness he carries around like a suffocating cloak three sizes too big? well, i would say, let’s improve platonic relationships on argo II and let these kids be friends with each other instead of just getting tangled up in all possible variations of romantic affairs. let leo visibly (ON SCREEN (or well, on page)) get closer to his godly siblings and find a family he longed for since he lost his mother. let him find out from reliable people who love him, that his powers and what happened to his mother don’t make him a monster. let him thrive in a safe environment where he isn’t pressured to play an entertainer just to be kept around, for once.

but what did rick decide? LET’S GIVE HIM A GIRLFRIEND!! let’s throw a cute girl at leo, blatantly ignoring the fact that most of his issues stem from lacking a loving family and genuine platonic companionship, none of which will be solved by a romantic relationship. and not just throw a girl at him - let’s dump him on a cursed island which magically forces the girl in question to automatically fall in love with anybody who lands on it. let’s leave caleo no other choice but to fall in love with each other, because calypso has no other way of getting off the ogygia and leo feels guilty about leaving her there alone and also she’s his only chance of survival. sure, why the fuck not.

and i understand why caleo would be attracted to each other. when they first met and when i first saw them slowly warming up to each other, i genuinely could see them becoming a badass power couple and had pretty high hopes for them.

but then they get off the island. and well. everything goes to shit. calypso resents leo for losing her immortality, and leo somehow? feels guilty about it??? (if memory serves me right. if it doesn’t, well, i have a lot more points i’m completely confident in). every time we see them talk to each other, it’s calypso throwing jabs at leo which aren’t returned in kind. and, i hate to break it to you guys, but if it’s one person just talking shit at another without another doing the same (very likely because leo’s afraid she will dump him just like everyone else did the moment he steps a foot out of line, which, again - is a VERY BAD FUCKING SIGN), that’s not flirty banter, that’s just straight-up bullying. and let’s not forget the great hits by calypso such as “oh my gods, he doesn’t experience empathy in all the same situations and the same way i do, he’s a heartless fucking monster. hey, leo, you’re a heartless fucking monster for not empathizing with people exactly the same way i do!”, when leo was explicitly shown to struggle with empathy and social interactions in general in canon, because it’s easier to deal with machines. again, largely because he had little to none healthy socialization growing up and he does feel empathy, but just expresses it differently. and i would hope that his actual girlfriend would know that about him and, instead of judging him for it, would learn how to work around it or at least understand that people can be different and that’s not a bad thing, especially when it comes to a person you (are supposed to) love. and even if it was an actual faux pas on leo’s side, i can let it slide because he’s a teenage boy with adhd. calypso, however, is not, and i really feel like a shit ton years old immortal sorceress should know better (and yes, the huge fucking age gap in a relationship with a minor, which is another can of worms entirely, but i will skim over it for now, because there are actually ways for it to be handled better, it just wasn’t).

and, however it looks like, i genuinely don’t have any particularly strong feelings about calypso outside of the way she treats leo. she was admittedly dealt an incredibly shit hand and all the continuously-getting-her-heart-broken-because-of-the-fucking-gods deal is a lot to get over. but that doesn’t excuse how she treats leo. it’s not even a question of “does she really love him?” for me, because i find myself wondering if she even likes him in general, just as a person. and that’s another giant fucking red flag.

their whole relationship just feels like rick incredibly carelessly tied his loose ends, like “oh! there are two characters i don’t know what to do with. well, let’s just smush them together. that will surely solve everything and let me get on with the rest of the story!” (and maybe not even carelessly but, dare i say, uncaringly)

but, okay, let’s say they’re both severely traumatized and just get off to a rocky start. alright. well, how will rick work on improving their relationship and finally resolving the issue of leo’s deep-seated loneliness? oh. he won’t. he will make them leave camp half-blood indefinitely. the place where leo found his first real family, where all of his friends are. where he was, for the first time in the series, shown some actual recognition, respect and care by the other campers (which they did by… hitting him. but considering all the demigods are weird with affection, i will let that one slide), just as he finally got close with his siblings. rick will make them stay at waystation and get a “normal teenage experience” by… going to high school. and i don’t think i’m wrong in assuming leo’s average high school experience prior to this was getting bullied and isolated. which will probably not change just because he goes to a new school in a city he doesn’t know with his girlfriend who hates him.

i’m sorry, but - WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???

and i understand that letting himself believe that leo dating calypso and changing scenery would magically solve all of his problems was a lot easier for rick than laying huge groundwork for leo finally finding his place in chb and building a bunch of close interpersonal relationships with other campers that would let him feel at home somewhere at last and also breaking his problematic tendency of just pairing teenagers off with each other instead of letting them bond platonically. and i’m also not saying there aren’t A LOT of great platonic relationships written by rick (percy’s family and his friendship with grover, basically all of nico’s immediate circle, all of will’s immediate circle, i really was mostly talking about the argo II debacle there). but this feels a little bit too much like carelessly tying loose ends again for my comfort.

and it’s not like rick just doesn’t realize leo’s motivations and biggest struggles. he doesn’t just make leo a flat comic relief character: he encourages us to empathize with his loneliness and pain all throughout the journey on argo II, he forces us to notice how hard he takes being the seventh, always forgotten wheel. he just… doesn’t really do anything about it.

i am a firm believer in the fact that leo just didn’t need a romantic relationship at all throughout the series. it wouldn’t solve any of his issues (and romantic relationships shouldn’t be founded on the goal of solving anybody’s issues, that’s just a disaster waiting to happen), it would most likely distract him from building a wide and stable support system he actually needs and throw him headfirst into something he, in his current state, would not be equipped to properly deal with. but even if he did enter a romantic relationship at some point, it definitely shouldn’t have been the main point and the grand finale of his story, and it definitely shouldn’t have been with calypso. i can see him with frank (i genuinely remember reading their interactions in books and thinking that they would make a very interesting and fun couple with their dynamic, and the conflict of a guy whose literal survival depends on staying as far away from the fire/a guy who spontaneously ignites all the time would be really tasty and fun to explore, you could throw a good ol’ icarus and sun metaphor in there, but maybe that’s just me), hell, make it leo/frank/hazel (even though dating a guy you only seem to be attracted to because he’s a many-times-grandson of a boy you loved in the past doesn’t seem like a very good basis for a relationship, but at least she wouldn’t treat him the way calypso did). hell, i started really warming up to the idea of valgrace, because, even though their relationship wouldn’t have the time and space it needed to properly develop in canon (rip jason, i love you), they would have a really fucking cool and sweet dynamic. who if not jason grace can understand feeling lonely in a room full of people? who if not jason grace can appreciate leo for all the great things that he is while making him feel genuinely loved, instead of belittled? who if not leo can get jason to loosen up, make him realize he doesn’t have to carry the world of the whole world on his shoulders alone, become the ride-or-die jason never really got to have? but well, that’s me veering a little bit too much towards speculations, and i tried to work mostly with what canon had given us.

anyway. (i promise i’m almost done.) all of this doesn’t mean that i hate rick riordan - i admire his work on pjo, i really want to read the other series in riordanverse, and the sole fact that i had so much material to go through speaks for the immense work he does on giving depth to his characters. and i know he can write good romance: percabeth is one of the very few straight pairings i can not only stomach, but actually love immensely, solangelo is genuinely one of the best things to ever happen to this god-forsaken planet, in my humble opinion, and apollo’s entire history of past relationships has me obsessed (especially the commodus part. i cannot stress enough just how much feelings i have about their story). this is caleo bashing, not rick riordan bashing. but i just feel like he didn’t care enough to give the same carefully thought-out beautiful relationship to leo, and that, regretfully just happens sometimes, especially if there are as many important characters as in pjo, and we can’t really do anything about it. but as an unhinged leo valdez enjoyer and appreciator i’m very sad to see his story go that way, because he really deserves better.

and that’s about it!

[girlscoutbrownies]

sbg headcanons!

(i had to put a title because it keeps just showing up as “aiden” in my notifs)

some of my favourite school bus graveyard headcanons! (in celebration of 101 followers) some are mine, some belong to other people that i’ve taken as well

these got really, really long so ill split it into two parts: aiden, tyler, and taylor for this post and ashlyn, ben, and logan will be in the next

——

aiden

(bit of a tw for disassociation around the end)

- uses he/any pronouns, he mostly doesn’t give a fuck. also doesn’t care if you stick to he/him because he likes it. he also tries out mirror pronouns every once in a while and flipflops between any

- unlabelled energy. also doesn’t care abt that type of stuff, but he’s asexual and it takes him a while to grow feelings. he’s afraid of letting people close to him but it really doesn’t matter to him, not that much. he’s pretty apathetic about it

- generally smells like shittily applied cedarwood cologne. it’s one of those cheap drugstore brands and sometimes he forgets to apply it in the morning, and he doesn’t spray it very well. also smells like grass sometimes

- his favourite subject is psychology/maths/anything logic based (he likes those puzzles). growing up with his bitchass karen mom who probably twisted all the words he said, he doesn’t like cryptic or vague language or poetry (english class) because it reminds him of her. in math, there’s only one answer. in english, there’s hundreds. also the words swim on the paper and he finds it hard to focus

- he has his ears pierced. he begged his parents to take him to an ear piercing studio they just ended up taking him to claire’s but he was still so happy about it

- he BEGGED for a dog or a pet when he was very little but eventually stopped at some point. he asked for stuffed animals and never got any because “it would be too hard to keep track of when we’re moving and you would lose them and get sad” and he’s still very upset about it. used to hug like three pillows when he slept

- he was told they were settling down in georgia and now his current room has millions of stuffed animals i will not hear any arguments about this

- he’s a kicker in his sleep (when he gets any). he kicks plushies off his bed like all the time, he’s not apologetic though he’s just like “oh shit”

- worst and best guy to have a sleepover with. super clingy

- he knows very few actual life skills other than operating a microwave for frozen meals because he largely grew up alone without his parental figures in his life. ashlyn and tyler eventually teach him how to cook

- his growth is stunted bc of that period in his life and he’s short like ashlyn

- he is a HORRIBLE gossip addict. they’ll be sitting at the lunch table eating in silence and he drops “did you hear that samantha’s parents are divorced and madison dropped her bc samantha’s mom doesn’t drive them to the mall anymore” like HUH WHERE DID YOU HEAR THIS?

- he gets school lunch and very rarely (if ever) brings lunch from home. sometimes ben makes him lunches

- plays with his food (this is canon) but he makes storylines out of whatever he does its like his personal roman empire

- big fan of extreme foods (spicy, sour, etc) ((he grew up eating plain ramen)) and loves weird food combinations. everyone always makes weird faces at him when theyre at the mall and he orders weird shit

- he doesn’t know proper meal etiquette until someone has to tell him, his parents didn’t teach him anything (I HATE THEM)

- he’s a really bad cook like ben because he always ends up getting distracted, and somehow manages to skip over steps in the recipes.

- he probably likes cooking shows though and is like “yeah i could do that” (he can’t do that)

- the first time someone (tyler) made aiden a homecooked meal he started cry laughing (it was mostly crying) (nobody talks about it)

- the few times his mom has made him meals whenever she’s home they’re really bad. they don’t taste anything like home, but he didn’t know what home tasted like so he just cried. his mom thought it was because of how good it was (it wasn’t) and he just cried harder

- he dislikes bitter flavours, especially like, orange juice that you make from scratch but you don’t put any sugar in it (it’s because his mom once tried to make homemade orange juice/lemonade to feel more like a “real mom” and it was horrible

- he’ll still eat bitter food though he just wouldn’t like it that much

- likes crunchy food or food that pops in your mouth (poprocks) bc he thinks its cool

- probably needs glasses from how long he’s spent staring at screens (his backstory)

- the one thing his parents consistently did as a kid was take him to his doctors appointments so he has stellar teeth

- he’s fit and fairly athletic (jumping off walls and all) but he doesn’t play sports because he just. isn’t interested in any of it. he tries everything but nothing really sticks that much

- he eats his greens but probably wouldn’t care much for the healthy vegan lifestyle, not that much of a picky eater (this part is canon)

- his favourite holiday is halloween because 1. candy (which he didn’t get much as a kid unless he specifically asked for it or ben brought it over) and 2. he loves dressing up it’s so fun to him

- understimulation is the BANE of his existence he genuinely wants to tear out his own hair every time he gets like that. gets really irritated

- he disassociates a lot, generally experiences a lot of derealization. he doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body sometimes

- insomniac

- chases thrills so that he can “feel” something. doesn’t care if it hurts him or not, because at least then he’ll remember he’s a real person and that his life matters

- really bad at telling when people are lying/are irritated with him. he just keeps pushing until they explode

- good with secrets (his own) but isn’t good at deflecting if asked about someone else’s. he’s just like “ummm. would u look over there. a bird!”

- runs really fast, he wakes up early in the morning to take a walk around the neighborhood. he sometimes encounters tyler if he happens to go into his city (which is often, because he doesn’t like being in his house)

- his house is always really cold, which is why he tends to run really warm (his body is compensating). he knows how to turn the ac off, but it always ends up turning back on in the middle of the night

- he grew up learning The Gifted Child instrument; the piano. he dislikes classical music (he says it’s boring but it’s because of this). he also almost got forced to learn the violin but he once practiced so hard his fingers started bleeding which is how he got out of it

- likes verbal validation bc his parents never told him they were proud of him

taylor

- she/they cis demigirl, gets a bit upset at being misgendered though (people think she’s the transfem twin because tyler passes really well)

- bisexual fem pref

- decorates her locker for almost every occasion. halloween, christmas, easter, birthdays. also decorates other people’s lockers for their birthdays before school starts with sticky notes

- has tons of stuff in her locker (except food because tyler won’t let her) just in case anyone needs anything but she’s not very organized so she doesn’t know where anything is

- because of this she’s one of those people that barely makes it to the door before the bell rings but she’s trying to fix that habit

- enjoys crime documentaries/true crime, horror stuff. used to make tyler watch with her but his anxiety gets really bad and he started getting paranoid

- adores christmas bc it’s a family holiday she makes tyler and her mom homemade gifts every year

- loves dogs with every bone in her body she asks santa for one every year but alas. tyler always has to write “a letter from santa” back saying they ran out of dogs at the north pole

- uses emoticons like “:D :] :3” all the time when she types, downloaded a bunch of sticker packs too. especially cat ones

- had her future all planned out as a kid and told her dad she’d be a mechanical engineer and build trains and rockets to bring him places when he started getting really sick and couldn’t move anymore

- her hair is actually kind of dry (compared to aiden’s or ashlyn’s) because they couldn’t afford great shampoo or anything

- has an ehh skincare routine and doesn’t care much for her fashion sense, just wears whatever’s comfortable

- knows a lot of random facts as conversation starters, she’s surprisingly good at small talk ( + comforting people)

- gossips with aiden aallll the time bc she’s super sociable and knows lots of people who tell her secrets. she doesn’t tell any of the important ones but just little drama things

- her and aiden are bffs

- really likes kids because they’re funny, she has a big imagination like them so it’s easy for her to play with them

- she’s a swiftie and whenever someone asks her if she likes taylor swift as a joke bc of her name she says “i like all music!” (she loves tswift)

- really likes sweets over most types of food, she’s healing her inner child guys

- has always ALWAYS wanted to go to a circus/carnival/festival when she was younger, but they couldn’t afford tickets. she still has that dream but she obviously has bigger priorities now…

tyler

- transmale he/him

- doesn’t care that much about dating, he actually doesn’t think about it that much until he meets The Gang. he always too busy taking care of his family to bother with relationships

- dislikes heavy meals, eats in small portions. it’s a habit

- used to be a picky eater but isn’t anymore, when he was younger they struggled to put food on the table so

- he’s like tigris from ballad of songbirds and snakes; when he prepared food for the family he’d eat bits and pieces of it while cooking. eats raw meat sometimes but once got sick from it so never again because he doesn’t want people taking care of him

- he HATES being sick. HATES HATES HATES it, hates having to burden people

- stress cooks because he likes having things to do with his hands. he also runs laps/paces around when he’s stressed

- runs his hands through his hair so it’s always messy

- he doesn’t bother combing his hair unless it’s for a special occasion like the first day of school, he just doesn’t care that much

- gets up early like aiden to keep up his physical fitness, doesn’t stray far though because his mom wakes up around the same time he does

- is VERY punctual. will be furious if someone makes plans and then is late. always arrives somewhere like, fifteen minutes early. he’s trying to break taylor’s habit of being late

- occasionally scolds taylor about how messy her locker is

- is extremely (and kind of scarily) meticulous. clean backpack, clean locker, clean room. it’s a habit

- book smart and figures things out pretty easily. he has an internal computer inside his head i swear. latches onto concepts very quickly

- likes math because he’s good at memorizing concepts but biology is his worst enemy, he gets queasy very easily

- motion sickness

- doesn’t actually have a set plan for the future, other than “help his family.” will probably do something related to sports (sports scholarship) or will do something math/analytical related

- spams people when they don’t respond to him but quits eventually (semicanon)

- has some sort of separation anxiety i swear he does

- keeps every single promise he makes because he hates broken promises (his dad told him he’d be fine and out of the hospital soon), he also doesn’t make a lot of promises

- dislikes nicknames like “champ” and “buddy”

- he’s ambidextrous

- he always seems to be like, tense? can’t relax at all. it might be because of his anxiety (HE HAS ANXIETY)

- only ever relaxes if he’s at home

- rarely watches television, he says it’s a waste of time (he always gets distracted and gets up and goes to do something else) he can leave it in the background though

- i think he has chronic pain, i don’t know where but i just think he does. everything just aches sometimes and he’s so young fuck life

- he’s okay with kids like his sister, not as good as her but he’ll take care of them (habit x37362828) he’d probably say everything really monotone though “there’s santa claus, wow.”

- he and taylor both have a pretty strong southern accent from living in middle of nowhere georgia (i think someone made an art post on this a while back :D)

- is really bad at video games because he gets frustrated easily

- he grinds his teeth when he sleeps and has jaw pain what a loser

[melancholicmarionette]

[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]

Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM

“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”

“I will fucking kill you.”

Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.

Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.

Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.

“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.

The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.

“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”

“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”

“So what is today’s topic, then?”

It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.

They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.

“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”

“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”

“And suffering.”

“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”

“You cannot just drop that on me.”

“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”

“Collab…”

“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”

Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.

“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”

“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.

“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.

“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”

“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”

“We should edit her name out before we upload.”

“We should.”

“…We’re not going to.”

“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”

[abitterboy]

Our Secret: Part Three

Summary: Jisung has a crush on his best friend’s girlfriend.

(Part One and Two are on my page, please read them before you read this!)

Pairing: Minho x Reader, Minho x Jisung

Genre: Smut

Word Count:3.1K

Warnings: rough sex, bxb, choking, hair grabbing, degrading, spitting, name-calling, teasing, slapping, humiliation, dubcon, oral, throat fucking, mention of watching people have sex, cum swallowing, fingering, anal, no protection, begging, orgasm denial, crying due to overstimulation,

This is a repost because for some reason my followers couldn’t see the original post 😭 Tumblr is plotting my downfall istg anyway pls enjoy!!!

He didn’t know what to think. When did that camera get there? What had Minho seen? Did you know about the camera? Was Minho spying on you because he suspected you to be cheating on him or has he just been watching you this whole time without your permission? He’s never thought of Minho as the type to stalk his partner but there was no way you were okay with that camera being there. Unless you were. Fuck. Were you trying to get caught? No, that would make no sense since you were the one that wanted to keep this a secret. Jisung’s head was spinning with confusion as he held the phone in his hand. Shit, he still had the phone in his hand and Minho could wake up at any minute. He quickly exited the app and closed the phone, he flushed the toilet in case either of you were awake and turned the water on to “wash his hands.” Jisung slowly crept out of the bathroom to find Minho awake on the couch and quickly walked to the table to place the phone down smoothly.

“Hey, Jisung?”

Jisung stopped in his place and closed his eyes in fear.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’m gonna carry them to the room would you mind opening the door? I don’t want them to wake up because of the movie but I still want us to finish it.”

Jisung cursed under his breath hearing that Minho wanted to finish the movie. He had hoped he could escape before either of the two had woken up and talk to you in the morning to find out what you knew about the cameras.

“Yeah, sure.”

Jisung walked towards the room as Minho carried you bridal style. He placed you on the bed and covered you with a blanket before kissing you on the forehead. He walked out past Jisung and went to sit back down on the couch. Jisung saw your foot move and slip out under the blanket and went to cover your foot with it. He looked down at your figure under the blanket and his worries softened but the moment he heard the movie start back up they engulfed him again. His nerves were a wreck and now he had to sit calmly with Minho and watch a movie. Fuck.

Jisung exited the room and made his way to the living room. He didn’t even fully make it to the couch before Minho spoke.

“They’re so pretty even when they sleep aren’t they?”

Jisung's body tensed upon hearing Minho's words from the couch. Minho kept eye contact with the TV, which was in the opposite direction of Jisung as he spoke and the younger stood frozen. He had no idea how to answer him.

“I- uh-“

“You’re pretty when you sleep too, Jisung.”

Fuck. He knew. Minho knew and now Minho knew that Jisung knew. Fuck.

“Haha, that’s uh- that’s such a weird thing to say.”

He tried to act innocent but he knew it wouldn’t work. Minho finally faced Jisung.

“I wonder if you think I’m pretty too?”

Every sentence that left Minho's mouth made the younger boy nervous but this one caught him off guard. What did he mean by that?

“Minho I-I’m sorry I don’t understan-”

“Don’t lie to me, Jisung. You know I hate liars. Sit. Sungie”

The name was said teasingly and bitterly. It fell off his tongue with venom. Jisung knew the least he could do was listen. He had obviously fucked up and would accept anything Minho said to him.

“I know you fucked them, Jisung. I’ve seen it all. Every time you go over there, I see you fuck her. How could you do this to me? How could you lie for so long?”

“Minho I’m so sorry.”

“No, you aren’t don't lie to me with a fake fucking apology. You aren’t sorry. I saw the way you fucked her. Heard the way you spoke to her. You loved every second of it. Was I even a thought in your mind?”

“Yes Minho, of course I thought of yo-”

“Good.”

Minho’s straight face turned upwards into a crooked smile. Jisung's confusion was apparent on his face.

“Then what did you think of? Was it only thoughts of me finding out or was there more?”

He couldn’t believe Minho was asking him this and not yelling at him or beating him to a pulp. This was not how he thought this would go. His eyes shifted anywhere but at Minho and Minho didn’t like that. He grabbed Jisung's face and made their eyes lock with one another.

“I’m guessing there was more. Not just guessing, I know there’s more. I know because on the days I fuck them, you take your time with certain things.”

Minho's face crept closer and closer to Jisung’s. His voice lowered and turned into almost a whisper.

“You suck on every spot I suck on, you bite every spot I bite. You put your hands on her waist when I leave bruises on them and eat her out longer after she's told you I ate her out earlier that day. You savor her more when you know I’ve just touched her. Now some might think that’s all out of jealousy but I think it’s for a different reason. Am I wrong, Sungie?”

The boy shook under Minho’s gaze. The close proximity of Minho's smirking face and Jisung's nervous one gave him a strange feeling. A feeling he only ever really had with you. He wasn’t just regular nervous, he had butterflies in his stomach.

“Minho, I-I’m confused. What are you saying?”

He tried to look away from Minho but the grip he had on his face only allowed him to shift his eyes. Minho sighed and rolled his eyes. He gently ushered his face to the side his eyes weren’t looking, demanding the return of Jisung’s gaze

“I want you, Jisung.”

His heart almost fell out of his chest. Jisung sat in disbelief at what was just said, questioning everything he knew or thought he knew. Years ago, when Jisung first met Minho, Jisung had developed feelings for his friend but knew he would never feel the same way as Minho was straight so he moved on as best as he could. He dated a couple of other people but those relationships never lasted longer than a couple of months. He didn’t really like anyone as much as he liked Minho until you came along. Your existence alone helped him cope with his hidden emotions and helped him forget. It was a beautiful tragedy to see the two of you together and Jisung just had to sit and watch. He detached himself as best as he could and thought he would die alone until you let him in your apartment that night.

“I wanna fuck you the way you fuck her.”

Minho’s lips pressed against Jisungs and the roughness caused the younger to melt right into his friend’s hands. Minho roughly pulled away and wrapped his hand around Jisung's neck, throwing him down onto the couch before towering over him.

“I’d be a lot nicer but you deserve to be punished seeing as you did fuck my girlfriend.”

Minho crashed his lips back onto Jisung and Jisung's shortness of breath caused him to gasp into Minho’s motions. Minho didn’t seem to care and shoved his tongue down his throat, deepening the kiss.

“I know you like choking her, how does it feel to be the one getting choked?”

Jisung let out a whimper, not wanting to admit liking the pain of MInho’s hand around his throat. Minho’s gaze darkened and his playful and lustful demeanor shifted into a more serious one. He grabbed Jisung's hair harshly and pulled brutally. His gasp was cut short when Minho spit abruptly into his mouth, causing him to slightly choke on the saliva.

“Answer me, Slut”

“I like it.”

Minho smiled viciously.

“Don’t tell me you like it, tell me you fucking love it.”

Jisung recognized his phrase to you and knew Minho was teasing him but he couldn’t help but feel his dick strain in his pants.

“I love it, Minho.”

“Good boy.”

You called him that. Fuck. Minho definitely knew what he was doing and how to work Jisung up. Minho's hand tightened against Jisung's throat as he kissed him again. This time Jisung attempted to tug Minho’s shirt up but was greeted with a slap to his hand.

“I’m punishing you, you only get what I say you get when I say you get it.”

Minho started running his hand over Jisung’s bulge causing the younger to squirm.

“On your knees.”

Minho's command caused Jisung to slide to the floor and get down on his knees, anticipating what was to come next.

“Actually strip. I want to see you naked.”

The younger's wide eyes met with the elder's cold lustful gaze and he instantly stood and started stripping himself of his clothes. When he got to his boxers, he hesitated. Minho grabbed him by the back of the neck, forcing his standing body to bend and come face-to-face with the other.

“I said strip. Are you deaf? Strip!”

Jisung carefully removed his boxers, allowing his dick to present itself in front of Minho. Minho looked at it and chuckled a little to himself.

“She must really like you if she lets you fuck her with that when she has me.”

Jisung looked away slightly in shame but for some reason wasn’t embarrassed. The comment caused his dick to twitch and Minho laughed again with that vicious tone of his.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. First, you fuck a guy's partner and then you get off to that guy telling you his dick is bigger than yours. Get down on the ground, slut. You’re gonna see what you’ve been competing with this whole time.”

Minho motioned for Jisung to undo his pants. Jisung got to work and slowly removed his friend's baggy pants. They certainly didn’t do him any justice because in them, his bulge was only half visible but now in just his boxers, Jisung could tell what Minho meant. Minho was huge. Both the thickness and length of his cock surpassed Jisung’s. The younger slowly took off Minho's boxers and threw them to the side. Jisung was about 7 inches fully hard but Minho right now was closer to 9. His eyes widened as it stood in front of him. Minho proudly wrapped his hand around the base before pumping himself a few times.

“You just gonna stare? Go on, suck it. If you don’t, I’ll have to fuck your face instead.”

Jisung still sat there frozen and Minho smiled maliciously, taking this as Jisungs consent to let him fuck his mouth. Minho grabbed Jisungs hair and forced him onto his cock. Jisung closed his eyes, bracing for impact as Minho thrusted as much of his dick as he could get into the smaller boy's mouth. Jisung slightly choked and thanked the heavens for his barely existing gag reflex because he would’ve thrown up otherwise due to the force Minho used on his first thrust. Minho let Jisung breathe and then continued thrusting into the other’s mouth, using Jisung’s hair to guide his head to match the pace he set with his hips. Drool pooled in Jisung's mouth and dripped out onto his chest and thighs, causing him to look messy and Minho couldn’t help but be even more turned on at the sight.

Seeing the guy who fucked his girlfriend now getting degraded was so hot. He had spent so much time getting off to the videos of Jisung fucking you and now he was able to fuck Jisung the way Jisung fucked you. Minho was somewhat of a cuck but to Minho, it was more than just watching you get fucked by someone else. He liked watching his friend fuck you of course but he also liked the idea of punishing both of you. You for your “unfaithfulness” and Jisung for his lies. He knew from the beginning what was going on as he was the one who suggested it and since that first night, he’s incorporated it into your sex life every time you and Jisung fucked. He would punish you as he played the video of you getting fucked, scolding you for being so dirty with another man. He was so glad to be able to finally punish Jisung but would have to wait to punish him the way he punished you for another time.

Minho’s pace was ruthless and Jisung couldn’t keep up. Minho slapped Jisung every time he slowed down and Jisung whimpered as he fixed his pace. Soon Minho was close to his release.

“Sungie be a good boy and take this cum down your throat.”

Jisung nodded and hummed in agreeance and Minho took the opportunity to let his load rush down the younger's throat. Jisung swallowed all of it and pulled himself off of Minho with a cough before showing his tongue to show Minho how good he had been for him. Minho spit in Jisung's mouth before instructing the boy to get on the couch on all fours.

“Stretch yourself out for me Sungie, but don’t you dare fucking cum.”

Jisung nervously stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them before reaching around and teasing his hole with one of his digits. He eased one in and stretched himself slowly as Minho sat behind him and watched with his dick in his hand. Jisung’s second finger made its way in and then his third. He started thrusting his fingers into himself faster, getting off not only on the feeling of them stretching him out but also knowing Minho was watching him do something so dirty. He tried to hide his moans but they escaped his lips and made their way to Minhos ears, causing him to move his hand up and down his dick, jerking himself off behind Jisung.

“You ready?”

For the first time that night, Minho’s tone wasn’t lustful or rough. He wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt Jisung too bad and if he tried to fuck him before he wasn’t ready he knew it would hurt the smaller boy.

“I am. I’m ready I want you so badly.”

Minhos hand sharply smacked across Jisungs ass and caused the younger to yelp.

“Then beg, slut.”

His tone returned with those words and Jisung whimpered as he kept fingering himself. Minho grabbed Jisung's hand and forced him to stop. He knew Jisung’s absence of his fingers would make him feel empty and force him to beg for Minho’s cock and it worked.

“Please Minho fuck me, I need you!”

“Oh, I will.”

Minho aligned himself up with Jisung’s hole before spitting down to further lubricate him. He slowly slide in his dick until he got past the rim. Jisung’s whimpers turned Minho on more and more and he happily lost control. With one quick thrust, Minho bottomed out in Jisung and the younger boy moaned out loudly. Minho was tempted to still and let Jisung adjust but knew he couldn’t; this was a punishment after all. His pace was vicious from the beginning, slamming into Jisung so hard that his entire body jolted forward. Minho’s hands gripped Jisung’s small waist and slammed into him at full force. Jisung felt his body shaking under him and knew without Minho’s hands around his waist he would've fallen just from the force Minho used. Jisung’s climax was approaching and his blaring whines let Minho know exactly that.

“Are you gonna cum, slut? You wanna cum?”

He spoke through his thrusts and Jisung could only let out sounds in an attempt to respond with a yes. Minho released one of his hands from the younger's waist and used it to grab his hair, roughly forcing his head up and back causing a moan to erupt from him.

“Come on use your voice. I just heard it loud and clear moaning like a slut so I know you can.”

“Y-yes I-ah I wanna cum!”

Minho released Jisung’s hair and laughed.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Jisung was so close to his limit and Minho’s brutal pace was torture knowing he couldn’t cum. Seeing Jisung squirming under him and hearing his desperate pleas, Minho decided to grab Jisung’s dick harshly and hold it with a firm grip, denying him access to his release. Jisung cried out and Minho laughed as his dick continued ruining his friend.

“I cum first. Remember, you only get what I say you get when I say you get it.”

Tears flooded Jisung's eyes and ran down in streaks. He hadn’t even came yet but felt so overstimulated under Minho’s touch. It was almost too much to bear but lucky for Jisung, Minho was close.

“F-fuck take my cum, slut.”

With that, Minho came inside of him and released his grip from Jisung’s dick, causing him to cum on the spot. Upon being released by Minho, Jisung collapsed and Minho sat back. Both sat in the sound of panting and the smell of sex for a couple of minutes before Minho got up and walked to the bathroom to grab a rag to clean up Jisung. He came back, wiped him off, and gave him a kiss on the lips and then his forehead before going to put the wash in the laundry. Jisung was caught off guard by these actions but then remembered that this was in fact Minho. Minho had always taken care of both you and him so it made sense he would be gentle and loving with aftercare. Upon returning, Minho spotted a sleepy Jisung and smiled. He helped Jisung get into his boxers, stepped into his own, and then carried the younger boy to the room. While carrying Jisung, he whispered to him.

“You did so good Sungie, but don’t think you’re off the hook yet.”

He placed Jisung next to you on the bed, tucked him in the same as you, and left the room to go clean the mess on the couch. Jisung snuggled up against you and you giggled at him.

“Who knew you could be such a fucking bottom?”

Hey guys! Don’t worry this isn’t the last chapter I am gonna write one more for the finale so look forward to that! I’m so glad so many people are enjoying this story and are following it and I’m so grateful for everyone that likes, comments, and reblogs. It’s really motivating and makes me look forward to writing every time I do so.

Part 4 coming soon!