#I'm shocked and excited tbh about it

[betrootsoup]

I was today years old when I noticed that Stanley has some grey hair.

I'm tweaking rn fr. Like how I've never noticed it before 😫 Especially cuz this mf has one thick grey, very visible strand.

Now I'm very curious if Stanley is just that old for having grey hair, or is he just one of those people who go grey earlier cuz of genes or stress (tho I would vote for genes) 🤔

[gnomeantics]

STARKID TRENDING CATEGORY 5 AUTISM EVENT

[astrxealis]

hi i finally watched the character voice trailers !! tbh i'm now unsure what i was so scared about. i think i was just really caught offguard fr (and i don't do well with surprises like that </3) anyways. rambles in tags. (now i only need to check out all the drama audios!)

[zaras22]

i need another dain quest already 😭😭

[sanemisstalker]

NSFW /// KNY characters who I think cum particularly hard/ a lot. This could have a part two, I'm eepy, srry.

CW/ Non specific gendered/genitalia reader / Cum... like an insane amount of cum / BDSM Dynamic (ENMU)/ Light Gore (ENMU)/ tbh, Enmu. / Cum-swapping (AKAZA)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

-Cums hards AND a lot.

-Sanemi isn't quite sure why is body is the way it is, maybe it's his breath control mixed with the insane amount of testosterone and panic pumping through his veins on the daily, but Sanemi doesn't struggle to get it up.

-he struggles to stay flaccid. He's far more likely to be hard at any given moment. Not that he's excited, his dick is just permanently stuck at half mast. It takes an insane, highly emotional amount to get him entirely flaccid.

-I think Sanemi's orgasm absolutely shreds him everytime, unanimously. Does that stop him from getting it up in another ten minutes? Absolutely not. I just truly think he's a medical anomaly.

-He cums prematurely, but what does it matter? It literally didn't go down, he's still fucking going, now he's just like, in tears about it.

-I think Sanemi's eyes get really wide and he gets lock jaw, and he seethes and he tries to hold back any noise, but it just shreds the poor guys throat, and now he's sore, and it hurts him to moan, but he just can't help it, you feel so fucking good- and all for him? It's all for him?

-Shakes. Sobs. Sounds incredibly desperate, don't let the facade fool you. If he loves you, he's a crier.

-Also physically cums a lot. Not just by how many orgasms, but by how much each time is. I think he's got an obnoxiously low set of balls. He's made to breed, the poor bastard. If he can't let go in you, both of you are covered in it by the end of the night.

-Sanemi has yet to tap out before you.

Kyōjurō Rengoku

-Cums a lot.

-Rengoku has good stamina, but once he cums, he's done for, no more. He can keep going if he really wants to, or if you look like you really need him, but chances are the first round wad more than enough.

-vocal, but in a fatherly way. Sex with Rengoku is probably very... comfortable.

-Until he cums and now you're sticky from your chest to your upper thigh. The range of his shot is insane. He cums buckets, and he barely blinks. His breathing gets a little ragged, and his chest a little shakey, but that's it.

-He needs to go night night after, though. Feeling any amount of joy that doesn't come from stuffing his face does a number on him emotionally and physically. He needs a cuddle and a conversation about... idk, taxes after.

-Won't beg to cum in you, but really, really wants to.

-He always pulls out like a gentleman (if you can be much of a gentleman when you're balls deep), but you can always tell that he wants to see your face so bad when he pumps you full.

-Will not ask. That'd be rude.

-Talks you through your orgasm, but that's another post for another day.

Enmu

-Fuck, I just know he's a screamer. He cums so hard.

-This guy's a fucking mess, but it takes work.

-Enmu is such a good submissive that you're always shocked when he decides to mouth off to you, or when he forgets a command. Not too shocked, though. It's very clearly intentional. It always is.

-He gives himself a bit in between each 'screw up' to make sure he's edged himself mentally properly (very hard, he's almost always some kind of aroused, and he's prone to cumming untouched, so that build up is a little diificult.)

-While he doesn't struggle to ask for things, and his dignity is subzero, Enmu still appreciates a stray chase here and there. After all, it's the only thing mentally stimulating enough for him to cum.

-In any normal dynamic with Enmu, he isn't often left using his dick. So when you've got a spear through his wrists, locking them behind his back, one hand pulling his hair, the other jerking his cock with thoughtless speed-

-Enmu can never cum harder than when he's recieving borderline abuse. His dick looks irritated, going untouched for months previous, and now it's receiving all this attention. Can you blame him for being this loud?

-His legs shake, his whole body recoils. He drools and screams- laughs and wails. He cries with the brightest smile you've ever seen. His hips buck up. You're not being gentle, and he's so, so happy. The orgasm is ripping through every nerve in his body.

-He feels like he's in the sun again.

-He's hoping Muzan can see him look so pathetic. You're just hoping the demon lord stays out of your man's head.

Akaza

-cums like a horse.

-a lover, truly. That's the only word encompassing enough to describe Akaza's efforts sexually. He's a fantastic lover.

-... who can go for hours... days even and never get tired. Every orgasm blows off his shoulders- It's all about you. It always has been, it always will be.

-You've made him cum hard before, it's a rarity, but it's possible... Its just nothing feels as good to him as watching you cum, so he'll do whatever must be done-

-and if that means pumping you full again and again, until you're leaking from every accessible orifice, so be it.

-He'll lick your hole clean, reveling in the way you twitch after your.... you lost count after the fifth one. That won't stop him from tongue fucking you.

-His cum tastes... shockingly good. You like to give him head, and then come up to give him a kiss. He'll pull your tongue down, wanting to see it in your mouth just before you swallow. You always look so proud of yourself. He can't help but reward you with a kiss before you even get it down.

-there's way to much for one swallow. You can barely manage to keep all of it in your mouth while showing him. Your effort is precious, though.

-Akaza looks really good with cum on his lips. It's one of the only times you see him really flustered.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

[ofjunemoment]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters? 

 OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills. 

 pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader 

 genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn 

 wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst,  idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

 a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports. 

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face? 

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand. 

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg. 

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield. 

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times. 

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful. 

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class. 

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin. 

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t. 

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from. 

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped. 

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket. 

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.” 

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow. 

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves. 

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following. 

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly. 

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple. 

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green. 

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both. 

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night. 

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes. 

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break. 

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name. 

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class. 

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,” 

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving. 

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist. 

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag. 

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead. 

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag. 

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process. 

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot? 

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently. 

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more. 

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.” 

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit. 

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?” 

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side. 

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation. 

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton. 

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation. 

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead. 

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time. 

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue. 

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack. 

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face. 

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie. 

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you. 

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?” 

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit. 

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date? 

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm. 

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness. 

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups. 

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment. 

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play. 

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here. 

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place. 

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?” 

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead. 

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?” 

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner. 

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left. 

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time 

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me 

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey 

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh! 

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps. 

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure. 

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea. 

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement. 

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.” 

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench. 

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.” 

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer. 

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors. 

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water. 

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek. 

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream. 

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair. 

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.” 

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him. 

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee. 

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more. 

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,”  His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress,  for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more. 

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength. 

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso. 

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you. 

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again. 

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills. 

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you. 

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.” 

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!” 

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time. 

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly. 

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows. 

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

[tonberry-yoda]

A Nice Girl - Zuko

Pairing - Zuko x f!reader

Warnings - none!!

Word Count - 3,211

Notes - I have been pumping out these really long fics lately lmaoooo. i dont mean to i just simply get carried away. i need to stop before i get a block tho lmao. AND IM ALMOST AT 400 FOLLOWERS OMG!!! im like so excited about it tbh. maybe ill open my request when we get there. thank you all and i hope you're all well. stay hydrated!!

You yawned and stretched, the silk from your nightgown tickling you. That had to have been the best sleep you have gotten these past couple of weeks. As the oldest in the “gaang” at 17 years old, you had to act as the mother of the group and felt this awful need to protect everyone all the time, thus granting you several sleepless nights.

Sure, Ba Sing Se didn't feel like home and it didn't feel 100% safe either, but you got to sleep in a comfy bed and wear some really nice clothes. You had to admit that it was nice to be working with the Avatar sometimes.

You pushed your tangled hair out of your face and looked into the full length mirror next to your bed. Yeah, you definitely slept well, that was no question. You could tell by the rat’s nest created on your head and the sleep lines across your arms and face. You definitely needed to wash up before you started your day.

You got out of bed, stretching as the sun kissed your warm cheeks. You were going to make the best out of today. Lots of planning, but lots of downtime too, so that was nice.

As you finally walked out of your room, you were welcomed to cackling laughter from Sokka, his finger pointed at you.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically, Katara handing you a brush. “Very funny, Sokka.”

“Not just funny,” he said through laughter. “It’s hilarious, y/n! You look so stupid!!!”

You rolled your eyes, hiding a smile, and tamed the rat’s nest on your head, looking a little more yourself.

Aang walked in the house holding a bowl of snacks with a smile on his face. “Oh, good morning, y/n! You sure slept in this morning!”

“Slept in?” You tilted your head. “What time is it?”

Katara took the brush from you and set it down on a nearby drawer. “Almost 10 am.”

“What?!” You were shocked. You were usually the first one up always and if not, you never slept past 8.

Katara giggled. “Listen, y/n. I think it's great that you finally got some sleep. We never really see you rest well, so none of us had the heart to wake you up.”

You beamed. “You guys are the best. Well,” you stretched. “I'm gonna get washed up so I don't look like a sleepy monster all day.” Something about Ba Sing Se gave you the creeps, but at the same time, it was nice to be back in a place where you could bathe in warm water and not fear Zuko coming after you. It's not like you had anything against the Fire Nation prince… it's more like… he was an inconvenience to you and the rest of the gaang. Since you and Zuko were about the same age, you understood him. Well, kinda. You escaped the Fire Nation when you were younger, disagreeing with all of their ideals and overall how they treated the world. You did see the prince as Fire Nation scum, but at the same time, you saw him as a kid, just like you. He was banished for god knows what and he just wanted to go home. You didn't hate Zuko. Not one bit. You understood that he may just be in some sort of hidden pain. But you had to admit that it was kinda nice to not have him around to bother you.

You got out of the shower refreshed and ready for the day. It was nice to have a day off, so you were probably going to get some tea and write in your journal about how the past couple of weeks have been. You figured it would be nice to log everything that has ever happened on this little journey just in case you all wanted a refresher in the next twenty years or so. You slipped on some Earth Nation attire and smiled at yourself in the mirror as you braided your hair. Today is going to be a good day, you thought. Nothing better than tea and some late breakfast.

“I'm going out for the day,” you said, placing your bag on your shoulder. “Stay out of trouble today, got it?”

You looked at Aang and he laughed. “I will, I will! Have a nice day, okay, y/n? You deserve it.”

“You’re all too kind to me. Thank you.”

“And let me know if you find Appa!”

“I will, don't worry.”

You smiled and walked out of the house, smelling the fresh Earth Nation air. Luckily, the walls didn't cover the fresh air, so you could still get the almost afternoon breath.

You spent the beginning of the day walking around shops, buying some supplies and new clothes for yourself and the others. The markets were busy, but it was nice to get some of the things you needed without Aang begging for some stupid trinket that you always ended up buying him because you thought it was cool too. That was always your impulse, stupid things that Aang showed you. Those could be the death of you.

As you finally finished your browsing journey, you overheard a conversation while looking over a map.

“I swear their tea has gotten better.”

“Really? I dunno.”

“I'm serious. It has to be the best tea shop in Ba Sing Se.”

“Fine, we can go try it later.”

You turned to the two men a little embarrassed that you were eavesdropping. “S-Sorry, but I was kinda listening to your conversation… uh… where’s that tea shop you were talking about? I've been trying to find a nice place to get some tea all morning.”

The man hyping up the shop smiled at you. “Don't worry about eavesdropping, kiddo. It's right here.” He pointed to the map you were looking at and you were satisfied that it wasn't too far from where you currently were.

You thanked the man and began your journey to the shop. It was a little closer to afternoon and you could feel your stomach rumbling, so you just decided to skip right to lunch.

You walked into the tea shop and saw people smiling and laughing together, the heavenly scent of tea filling your senses. You were quickly seated at a lone booth and given a menu. Everything looked so good, you could swear that you were about to drool just thinking about food.

You decided to order something that the waitress recommended and as she walked away, you flipped through your journal, going over everything that you and the gaang had been through. You quietly laughed to yourself as you passed a page that said: note to self - slap Zuko’s bald head at least once. Imagine the sound that would make.

It’s definitely been a long trip of both laughter and struggle, and honestly, you were really happy. You don't remember the last time you had laughed so hard before you met Aang and the others. It was nice. Really nice.

“Here’s your tea. Is there anything else you need?” Your tea was set in front of you along with your lunch and you tilted your head at the familiar voice that wasn't your waitress from earlier. It was on the tip of your tongue.

“I think I'm alright, thank-” You looked up and the smile you had suddenly dropped. No way. “Zu-”

Before you could say his full name, Zuko covered your mouth and quickly let go, hoping no one saw or heard any of that. “P-Please don't.”

“But you’re-”

“I know,” Zuko’s voice was low. “Just… can we talk… in the back?”

You looked around the restaurant at all of the other people and back at Zuko. He looked so different. Barely recognizable. His face didn't look so pissed off and he had a short head of hair now that looked healthy. The only reason you recognized him was the scar, but honestly, if he covered it up somehow, you wouldn't have a clue that he was the prince of the Fire Nation.

You nodded and stood up, collecting your things. You followed Zuko to the back, almost a little scared. You had no means of defending yourself. You were a non bender, so if he wanted to pick a fight, you were screwed. You didn't even have a simple weapon on you. Maybe you were getting too cozy.

Zuko brushed off a small table and pulled out a chair for you, which you sat in with slight hesitation.

“How did you get into Ba Sing Se?” You didn't mean to sound so defensive. Well, you did, but you weren't expecting to. Especially not on such a good day like this.

“It's… a long story.”

“Why are you here?”

“Listen… It’s not for the Avatar.”

“Huh? Is that so?” You crossed your arms and looked him dead in the eye. “Then explain to me how you always end up where we just so happen to be. That’s suspicious, isn't it?”

“I-”

“If you hurt Aang, I swear to-”

“I don't care about Aang right now!”

The whole room went quiet. You had never heard Zuko say Aang’s name before, let alone not care about what the Avatar is doing.

“Then why…”

“I have my own stuff to deal with. It's none of your business, okay? I do have a life outside of the Avatar, you know.”

You nodded and looked down at your tea. “I'm… assuming your uncle made this?” You giggled softly.

“Yeah. He did.” Zuko’s voice was small and way less frustrated.

“So that’s why this tea shop has hype all of a sudden.” You wondered aloud, your eyes wandering to the ceiling.

Zuko cleared his throat and shuffled in his spot. “So… uh… what now?”

“Promise not to hurt Aang and I won't say a word about you being here. I believe that you have your own stuff to deal with, so prove it to me.”

“I promise.”

Your eyes locked with his and you smiled, shocking Zuko a bit. You smiled at him, the guy that’s been trying to hurt you and your friends this whole time. The guy who would’ve done anything for the Avatar to be in his hands.

“You probably hate me, don't you?” Zuko spat out, rubbing the back of his neck.

You tilted your head. “Hate’s a strong word, don't you think?”

Zuko looked at you, appalled. “I mean, I would understand if you did.”

“It's been a long road for you, hasn't it, Zuko?”

He nodded at you and you pointed to the other side of the table, just realizing that he was standing that entire time. “Let’s share some tea.”

“I-I don't know if that’s a good idea.” Zuko took a step back.

“Ah, I see,” you stood up, scooting your chair back in. “You’re a busy man with a job now.”

He just nodded at you.

“Well, I'll let you get to it then, but I expect to see you at 6 tonight ready to hang out, okay?”

“Wh-What?! Won't your friends notice that you’re gone?”

You just smiled, collecting your things. “Zuko, I do have a life outside of the Avatar, you know.”

Zuko’s face went bright red as you walked out of the room with a smirk on your face. It was actually kinda cute to see Zuko not being some evil kid with his heart set on hurting anyone.

“You’re leaving?” Sokka whined, watching you grab your bag.

“Yes Sokka,” you said for what seemed like the hundredth time. “I'm leaving. I just want to go get dinner out by myself tonight. Maybe go for a nice walk.”

“Aww man,” Sokka pouted, crossing his arms. “Who’s gonna make dinner now?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile creeping on your lips. “Sokka, I left some money on the table. You guys should go out and get something to eat tonight.”

“Why aren't you coming with us?” Sokka tilted his head, counting the money on the table.

“I just want to go out by myself tonight, that’s all.”

“So you’re just gonna have a lonely dinner all by yourself?” Sokka questioned, looking skeptical.

“Yes!”

“She’s lying.” Everyone turned to Toph and your face went bright red. You forgot she could tell if you were lying or not, and it definitely didn't help that you were outside on the concrete so Toph could really feel right through you.

Sokka turned back to you quickly. “You’re going to dinner with someone?”

“Fine, yes, I am, so what?”

“Who is it?”

You rolled your eyes, already late. “Just somebody.”

“Is it a boy?” Sokka gave you a mocking look and you pushed his face away.

“Fine, whatever! It's a boy! So what?! Now let me leave before I'm late. Have a nice dinner everyone.” You waved at the group and ran to the tea shop, hoping that Zuko didn't leave yet.

The bell rang as you opened the shop door. “Sorry, we’re not serving tea anymore, we’re closing at the moment,” a familiar voice said. Iroh peeked his head out, surprised to see you. “y/n?”

You smiled, “hi Iroh.”

“How are you?” Iroh set down the broom he was holding and pulled you into a soft embrace. You never told the others, but you spent quite a bit of time talking to Zuko’s uncle when you got the chance. He was a wise man and kind as well. Maybe that's why you understood Zuko so well, you had someone to give you some insight on the boy.

“I'm good, Iroh. How are you?”

“Oh I'm fine,” he beamed at you, pulling away from the hug. “I'm getting to live my lifelong dream of making tea for the people of Ba Sing Se, so that feels pretty nice.”

“Well, you are the best at making tea, Iroh.”

“Oh, stop. You’re so full of flattery, y/n.” Iroh blushed with a smile. “Is there a reason you’re here?”

“Is your nephew here?”

“You’re looking for Zuko?” Iroh cocked an eyebrow at you and you chuckled, surprised that you were even here.

“I am.”

Iroh gave you a skeptical look, but honestly didn't care much. He thought it was nice that someone wanted to visit Zuko. “He is here. Let me go grab him. Would you like some tea in the meantime?”

“Tea sounds great,” you admitted, sitting at a table.

As you got comfortable, Zuko ran into the room, completely surprised. “You’re here?”

You laughed. “Of course I am! I said I’d be here at 6 didn't I?”

“I thought you were bluffing.”

“Well now you know I'm serious. Wanna hang out?”

Zuko gave you a side eye and thought for a moment. “I think I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what might that be?” Iroh entered the room, placing two teacups and a kettle on your table. You thanked Iroh as he left with a smile.

“You’re trying to get info out of me. About the Fire Nation… aren't you?”

You shook your head. “You’re so defensive all the time, Zuko.”

“Can you blame me?” Zuko shut all of the blinds in the shop and sat across from you, taking a sip of tea.

“I guess not.”

“I'm surprised you’re not a little more on edge.”

“Why’s that?” You took a sip of tea as well, humming at how delightful it tasted.

“I'm a firebender. You don't bend right? I could literally take you down at any moment. And it doesn't seem like you have any weapons either.”

“I trust that you won't do anything. Your uncle would probably be pissed about the mess to be honest.”

For the first time in all of your time knowing Zuko, you heard him laugh. He laughed so hard that he snorted a bit, which made him laugh harder. Because of all of his laughter, he made you laugh too, sending you both into a laughing fit. It felt good. You haven't laughed this hard since you first met Sokka, all covered in Appa’s snot.

Zuko literally had tears in his eyes by the time he stopped laughing. Seeing him happy made you feel… good. Really good. It was almost a relief. It made Zuko more human. You didn't know if you could even remotely call him your enemy anymore.

You two ended up talking all night, Iroh occasionally bringing more tea or just little treats every now and then. You literally couldn't stop talking to Zuko. To hear about what it was like to grow up in the Fire Nation as a prince was interesting. To hear what Ozai was really like in person sent chills down your spine. To hear where that scar on his face came from almost brought you to tears. Zuko didn't even know why he told you all of this, but he could say one thing. It felt nice. It felt this giant weight on his chest had been lifted.

After a few hours, you looked at the clock in the shop and frowned. “Bad news, Zuko. I gotta go.”

“Already?” He turned to face the clock and pouted his bottom lip. “Alright then.”

You stood up and collected your things. “Thanks for the tea, Iroh!” You shouted, which was responded with a big smile and a thumbs up from Iroh.

“Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime,” you said, opening the door of the shop. “I'll be back.”

“You will?” You turned to Zuko, who almost looked excited that you said that.

“Of course I will. Goodnight guys.”

“Wait,” Zuko ran up to you, holding the door open. “Let me walk you home, it’s late.”

“Zuko, I don't know if that’s a good idea.”

Zuko frowned, but you were probably right. If Aang spotted him for even a second, both of you would be done for. “R-Right. Well… thanks.”

“For what?”

“Hanging out. That was fun.”

You smiled. “That was fun. Thank you for not killing me, Zuko.”

“Anytime.” He giggled, immediately taken aback when you pulled him in for a hug after dropping everything.

He was so… warm. I mean, duh. He was a firebender. But even so, his hug felt so genuine, so nice, and you didn't want to leave. “Goodnight, Zuko,” you said as you pulled away from the hug.

“Goodnight, y/n.” This time, he shocked you by pulling you in for another hug and pulling away only to pull you in again, but this time, your lips were inches apart.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice was in a whisper, his warm breath dusting over your lips.

You just nodded and closed your eyes as his soft lips brushed against yours. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck pulling him closer. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you pulled away from the kiss, both of you said a quick goodbye, your cheeks dusted pink.

Zuko quickly walked back into the tea shop to help Iroh close and put his back on the door.

“I'm glad you found a nice girl, Zuko.” Zuko jumped hearing his uncle’s voice, his face turning a dark shade of crimson.

Though if he was being honest, he was glad he found a nice girl too.

~~~~~

atla masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

TAG LIST: @ede1faecam

[mobbu-min]

☆ Pretty Boy ☆

(ft. the vice housewardens)

requested by anon: the pretty boy hcs were so cuteee 😭💕 would you be able to do those for the vice leaders as well?

and

@crienosaur and @donuelle

a/n: i feel like this is all over the place, but i really enjoyed lilia's part. imma try to get the first years part out soon. also idk for the longest time i thought that jade and floyds last name was tweel and honestly idk where i got that from :/

characters: trey clover, ruggie bucchi, jade leech, jamil viper, rook hunt, ortho shroud (platonic) and lilia vanrouge

!tw! insecurities, grammar mistakes im too lazy to fix again

Trey Clover <3

⋆ a deep chuckle came from Trey's chest. He may look unaffected but judging by the way his shaky hands cover his rosy cheeks tells a different story.

⋆ He's used to people thinking not much of him tbh. Trey knows he's considered attractive, he has a nice face, a nice body and a nice personality.

⋆ Nice, that's all he is. That's all he's ever been told. Not once has he ever looked at himself and thought pretty. Not a single time

⋆ But the way you sighed it out had him second guessing himself. Had him looking in the mirror and noticing a ton of things about himself he's never seen before.

⋆ Has his eyelashes always been so long? Lips so full and soft? Cheeks flushed a soft peach hue and kissed by the particles of the sun?

⋆ Trey, like many others, doesn't understand how you got to this conclusion at first. But maybe, for once, he'll be fine with being called something other than nice. 

⋆ Trey will happily settle for pretty.

"Hey there, Prefect! Hope I'm not interrupting anything but I've made too many sweets for the next Unbirthday Party, so I was wondering if you'll take them off my hand…Hmm? Ehehe, I didn't even plan it! I guess I accidentally made your favorite again."

(he did it on purpose fyi)

Ruggie Bucchi <3

⋆ You have a weird taste, Ruggie thinks to himself, staring at you with a rosy blush, his tail wagging behind him, But I am the cutest. 

⋆ Ruggie is in heaven. Him, pretty? He sure is. The prettiest to pretty. Ruggie’s another one that wants to rub it in everyone’s face. 

⋆ But he’s also intimidated by the possible meaning behind it. Does that mean you like him too? Ah! He’s getting excited just by thinking about it! But wait? Does that mean he’ll have to pay for stuff? Can’t you just-wait, nevermind, you’re equally as broke as him. 

⋆ Maybe you  won’t mind working shifts at Monstro Lounge together as bonding time? Perhaps? Please?

⋆ Ruggie balances on a thin line of screaming his lungs out and melting on the spot. Ruggie knows his appearance is…less to be desired by the vast majority. So for you to call him pretty so unabashedly, boy is he going to get that tattooed on his forehead.

⋆ But beware, he will bring it up in conversation. You are not spared from his teasing.

“Don’t give me that look. Doesn’t the pretty boy get the last bite~? Shishishi, I sure do love that look~”

Jade Leech <3

⋆ Confident, smug and annoying af. 

⋆ That’s the effect it had on Jade. You really shouldn’t have said his name, because this boy (eel? mereel?) will show his face the moment you say it. A stupidly scary smile on his stupidly pretty face. Scaring the living daylights out of you and everyone else nearby. 

⋆ Whisking you away like the gentleman he is. 

⋆ Really it’s just him taking you because you're too frozen in shock to do anything about it. 

⋆ Does he confess?

⋆ Kinda.

⋆ He takes you to the Monstro Lounge and gives you a free meal he cooked himself. So it’s really up in the air. 

⋆ Jade has never felt more pleased. Sure the scared look Azuls client gives him is nice. Or the feeling of finding extremely rare mushroom species is amazing. But being called pretty by the one and only Ramshackle prefect is another feeling entirely. 

⋆ Not only is it from someone he finds deeply amusing and pretty themselves. But he knows for a fact plenty of people are going to be incredibly jealous over this.

⋆ Ah, if only you knew the affects you had on them and most importantly, Jade.

“Please enjoy. I know that look and you have nothing to fear. There’s no cost to this meal… Oh dear, well, if you are not convinced, then how about this offer? (whispering softly) If you don’t enjoy this meal, I’ll personally take you out. Just you and me.”

Jamil Viper <3

⋆ Please tell him Kalim set you up? Or Azul, or anyone!

⋆ Jamil doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle it if you were joking. You really need to take other people's feelings into consideration, Prefect. Don't you know it’s rude to pla- huh? You meant it?

⋆ Cue, Jamil hiding in his hood. 

⋆ This has never happened before. Well it happened once, but he had to reject her because she would be a distraction to his job, but let’s not talk about that. 

⋆ And Jamil is so used to not being seen. So, for you to excitedly shout how pretty he was without shame or hesitation, made him gasp in shock. Pretty, you think he’s pretty. 

⋆ Jamil would have just brushed it off (he’s lying, he wouldn’t) thinking that you were merely thinking of his outward appearance. Something he does take care of, but you just have to be full of surprises. 

⋆ Of course you decided to recount all the times he’s helped you, or made you food, or walked you back to your dorm, or- yeah you get the gist. You had no shame in saying despite all his flaws, Jamil has the best personality. That he’s pretty in the inside, as well as the out. 

⋆ Jamil had to sit down to recollect his emotions. Pretty outside and in. You saw him as pretty all round. You saw him. You recognize Jamil. 

⋆ Great Sevens, Jamil really fighting back his inner demons (crying, he’s fighting back crying) 

⋆ But that feeling immediately burst into a thousand fireworks simultaneously bursting in his chest. Igniting his body in warmth like the setting sun in the Scalding Sands. Like the curry his mother made for him whenever he felt ill. Jamil has never felt more at peace than he did now. 

⋆ All because of a simple six letter word uttered by you.

“Oh, you have something in your hair. Here let me get it for you…Hmm? He, are you ill? Your face is quite warm, Prefect. My hand feels like ice compared to your cheeks…Haha, my apologies, Prefect. I just think you look quite pretty, all flustered.”

Rook Hunt <3

⋆ Rook is swooning with joy! The prettiest person in his world thinks he’s pretty as well! (he ignored the part where you said weird after)

⋆ He is already down bad for you, so for you to call him pretty??? This man cannot contain himself. He’s truly fighting his inner demons.

⋆ Rook is incredibly quick to act on his feelings. Knowing him, Rook has already broken into your room layed roses all over your bed, lit scented candles and has some really over the top music playing in the background. 

⋆ It's sweet if you overlook the fact that he broke in. He truly is the most romantic person out of all NCR.

⋆ Makes you call him your ‘pretty boy’ and won’t respond to any other nickname.

"Ah! My pretty trickster! What did I say about calling me by my name? …Ah! How wonderful! I will never get over my name coming from your darling lips!”

Ortho Shroud <3

⋆ You think his brother is pretty! And him too!?!

⋆ Ortho’s over the moon! His favorite person (beside his brother) thinks he’s pretty! He already thinks of you like a big sibling, so Ortho's bouncing off the wall at your praise. It’s so cute, that he immediately zooms to you and hugs you so tightly. Exclaiming that he thinks you're pretty too!

⋆ He’s literally the sweetest! Please call him pretty again, Ortho will just explode in excitement. 

⋆ But don’t think you're safe. Just because Ortho sees you as a big sibling, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want it to actually happen. And what did you happen to say right before you called him pretty?

⋆ Yeah, you called his big brother pretty and you want to know something more? Well, his big brother has a crush on you, so do you want to know what role Orthos immediately takes on? 

⋆ Yeah, wingman. A pretty good one at that. 

⋆ You and Idia will know no peace. 

“Your heartbeat increased when you saw big brother right now! Is it because you said he was pretty? Hehe, don’t worry he thinks you're pretty too! But, you still think I’m the prettiest right? Yay! You’re the best!”

Lilia Vanrouge <3

⋆ Pleasantly surprised. A small pretty smile graced his lips and he placed a finger to his lips. Humming deep in thought. So you thought he was pretty? How intriguing. You’re truly full of surprises aren’t you?

⋆ Lilia actually finds it cute. Endearing really. Because who would have thought that you, a person from another world, would find him the prettiest person you’ve ever seen. He feels smug and overjoyed at the same time.

⋆ Like Rook, Lilia wasted no time in tracking you down and telling you he thinks you're really pretty too. He doesn’t want to risk you being taken by another. Nu-uh, no way!

⋆ Lilia has a…way with words. It’s kinda creepy, kinda concerning, but overall incredibly sweet! His little bat friends (children?) flutter around you, bringing you fresh fruit and flowers. They like you just as much as they like Lilia.

⋆ Afterall, you’ve made Lilia so happy, how couldn’t they?

“Kehehe, you’re truly full of surprises! I simply can’t get enough! But…(whispers) please do only refer to me as that my dear. Don't want anyone else taking what’s mine~”

[billybob598]

I Don't Know Who You Are (Leah Williamson x Reader)

@xxforeverinadayxx I finally did it! Thank you so much for being patient with me. To everyone else, I apologise for not being active at all, it's been pretty crazy with school and football. This blog has kind of been at the back of my mind tbh. I also apologise for how absolute shit this is, honestly I'm not very happy with how this turned out. But I just figured I should write something to get back into the groove of it. Anyways, as always any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Happy reading!

Word Count: 697 (Dont you dare say a thing)

“Sky Sports F1 here, hi Cara! Would you mind just having a quick chat with us?” Martin Brundle speaks through the crowd towards the model and actress, Cara Delevigne.

“No. No,” She dismisses him quickly, barely glancing at him. 

“But the deal now is that everyone on the grid has to talk,” Martin tries to convince her. 

“No. Sorry,��� she says curtly. Martin’s face burns red with embarrassment and anger as he continues moving through the crowd

“Okay…well let’s see who’s around. Ah! Y/N Y/L/N! How are you today?” His voice turns happy as he approaches you. You turn and give him a warm smile,

“Hello, Martin. I’m feeling good, how about you?” You respond.

“Ah, I’m okay, I’m okay. And what tricks do you and McLaren have up your sleeve today?” You chuckle at his question,

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say slyly, following it up with a wink towards the camera. Martin laughs at your answer just as Leah walks up to the two of you. She gives you and Martin hug, then she settles beside you. With a little grin, you slip your arm around her shoulders. You and Martin continue chatting while Leah stays quiet, amused at how excited you look talking about F1. As the three of you laugh at some random joke made, you’re rudely interrupted by Cara shoving past Leah to get to you. Leah almost hits the ground, but luckily she’s able to catch herself just before she hits it. A few gasps are heard from around you, and Cara is immediately all over you. 

“Hi, I’m Cara Delevigne. Are you a driver?” She sticks her hand out to you and gives you a cheeky smile. You stand there for a few seconds, shocked. Then, you push her hand away from you and move towards Leah.

“You okay, love?” You ask, concern evident in your voice. She nods and gives you a small kiss on your cheek,

“Yeah, yeah. I’m all good, babe, don’t worry.” After confirming she was fine, all of your attention goes to Cara.

“Why did you do that?” You ask a slight hint of anger in your voice.

“Do what?” She says obliviously.

“Push my girlfriend out of the way like that.” Her eyes shift from you to Leah and then back to you again. 

“You have a girlfriend?” 

“Yes, she has a girlfriend,” Leah pipes up from beside you. Cara’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she processes it.

“Well, I would say nice meeting you, but I don’t think it was all that nice, to be honest,” you say with a tone of finality in your voice. Embarrassed, Cara turns around quickly and starts working her way back through the crowd. Martin, who was just standing there the entire time, laughs. This makes everyone else laugh, too. Looking directly at the camera, you smile and say, “Do you guys know who that was? Is she like part of a team or something?” The genuine confusion on your face made everyone chuckle. 

“Do you really not know who she is?” Martin asks, amused. A quick shake of your head is all that’s needed to embarrass the model/actress further. 

After the race, you and Leah were heading back to the McLaren garage, your race suit hanging low around your hips, when Cara approached you. 

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” She asks incredulously. Her rudeness takes both you and your girlfriend by surprise.

“I’m sorry?” 

“You should be. Do you live under a rock or something?” She was beginning to get angry now and you had no idea why. You didn’t even know who the hell she was yet.

“Look, lady, I’m sorry if you’re offended, but I don’t know the fuck you are and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.” Leah then grabs your hand and pulls you into the garage. Cara tries to follow however, she is denied by the security guard who was watching the interaction. Her cheeks burn red with embarrassment. Out of the corner of her eye she spots Leah give her a sly wink before turning back to you.

[guttednights]

your bar.

You've worked in the same bar for the past 3 years. It's fairly common for military men to come in and get drinks together. It's always soap, gaz, price, and the one in a mask.

One night you finally speak to the guy in the skull mask. "your name is?" as he looks at you, his cold eyes lighten.

"ghost," he said gruffly when soap elbowed him, he shot soap a glare and sighed making eye contact with you. "Simon. simon Riley." he gruffs.

you can't help but smile. "well then Simon Riley. want your usual?"

"Please," he says coldly

you and your friend spent the rest of the night talking about simon. "god i dont know what it is about him but." "jeez.."

"oh ew! shut up" your friend replies walking to the other side of the bar

you giggle "ah cmon, its not as nasty as you and your thing for that old one.

she giggles. "price is hot because hes a gentle man. simon just looks like he could hurt anyone."

"thats what i like" "feels like hed go to jail for me"

She rolls her eyes "okay mrs delusional."

the next few days some tension between you and simon grew. he cant keep his eyes off you. your literal eyecandy to him. and you notice.

"sarah he keeps staring" you say entering the back to "refill something"

she squeals. "girl hes so into you!"

you roll your eyes, "oh whatever."

Later that night soap walks up to the bar,

"hey y/n, you know my big friend Simon? ya he wants ye number"

your heart practically stops beating. "uh.. yeah sure here" You quickly write it on a napkin and hand it to him. you watch as soap runs away like a schoolgirl giggling to Simon as he hands it to him.

the whole rest of the night you were shocked. The big huffy man you think is hot wanted your number?

around 2 am you jolt awake as your phone buzzes. you grab your phone, its him.

"hey gorgeous its simon, or "big masked man"

"Hi simon" god you cant believe this is happening is this real?

"you should be asleep. what you doing up?"

ur heart flutters, (GOING FERAL LIKE YES PLS BOSS ME AROUND) "couldnt sleep"

"any reason why?"

(yes Simon ur the reason why) "nope no praticular reason why, just one of those nights."

"alright. want to get coffee tomorrow?"

"coffee?!" you think to yourself "Omg it's happening.."

"id love to get coffee"

"great. ill see you at happy cafs tomorrow at 9 am."

"see you there"

your freaking out literally, the man of your literal dreams is asking to go out on a coffee date?! Is it a date..?

"is this considered a date?" you text him a few minutes later

"yes, sweetheart. it's considered a date lol"

you throw your phone across the room screaming and kicking your feet. you can't sleep the rest of the night. too busy thinking about what to wear. finally at 6 am you give up and hit the shower, then walk to your closet. "god do I wear a dress? jeans hoodie?" finally you decide on a long-sleeved black dress, perfect for winter. you straighten your hair, do your makeup, and hype yourself up.

8:55 and you're a minute away from the cafe when u see him pull up. your heart drops. you're so excited yet so nervous, u practically black out until you bump into him.

"op, watch out there" he chuckles, "looking at your feet while you walk sweetheart or?"

you chuckle, "Sorry lost in my thoughts." sweetheart?! You can't help but blush as he puts his hand on the lower part of your back and directs you inside. you both sit down at a booth and a waitress comes over. you both order and wait.

you can't help but stare at him, even tho you haven't seen his face his eyes just capture you.

"I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart,. I can't keep my eyes off you at the bar,"

"might as well claim ye before you are no longer available" he smirks as you blush and look away

you spend the next 3 hours just talking getting to know him. And before you know it, (in a few weeks of course) you are dating, officially his. the man of your dreams is officially yours.

side notes: i dont know if i like this tbh. it feels really long and i almost lost what else to say. if u want a part 2 (MAYBE SMUTTY VERS. i can do it lmk!!!)

[sturn-wrld]

🪼secrets

pairing: matt x reader

summary: where reader and matt think that nick and chris have left the house

genre: SMUT!!! if that makes you uncomfortable dni!

warnings: head (fem receiving) that's about it

a/n: day 3 of smutmas. kinda love this tbh.

masterlist

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

you had been friends with the triplets since almost the day they moved to LA. but that was the day you and matt also started your rendezvous. for the last year you and matt had been secretly hooking up.

you guys never did it when his brothers were in the house out of fear of being caught. there is no reason why the other two wouldn't want you two to be doing this except for it happening in their house but you were scared of them not liking for a different reason.

you were currently driving to the triplets place when matt suddenly calls you. you answer not knowing what this could be about.

"hi beautiful"

"hello matthew"

"damn the full name. anyways i'm excited for you to come over"

"matt are your brothers home?"

"right now yes but they have already said they want to go get food when you come over"

"okay. good. talk to you in like 5 minutes" i try to finish the call

"but i want to talk now"

"and i want to drive"

"fine okay drive safely baby. see you soon"

"see you soon"

you are now walking into the triplets house towards their kitchen where they all happen to be. "so y/n is coming over right?" nick asks as i walk over "already here" i say interrupting matt before he could answer the question "y/n i missed you" nick says embracing me in a long hug "i feel like it's been forever since i saw you last" i finished with before chris takes me in an evenly suffocating hug before i walk over to matt to hug him. "i'm going to go put my bag down and i'll be right back" i say heading towards matt's room. "nick and I are about to head out to mcdonald's if you want anything" i contemplate the many options in offer at mcdonald's before deciding against getting anything.

as your about to leave matt's room, he walks in. "they just left" he says giving you his seductive eyes, waking you towards his bed before he starts passionately kissing you. "i missed this" you said in between kisses "me too" he says pushing you onto his bed resuming the make out. he slowly starts kissing down your neck to your sweet spot before sucking it. "can i take this off?" he says slowly tugging at your shirt "yes" you lowly whisper out not capable of anything else. after pulling your shirt off he pulls his off throwing both across the room somewhere. he slowly takes your bra off as he moves his way down your stomach towards your sweatpants. he continues to kiss your lower stomach as he slowly pulls down your sweats to reveal that you're not wearing panties. "you wanted this didn't you?" he says looking up at you discovering your real reason to come over. "maybe" you say in a the way that drives him crazy.

he starts to suck at your clit as you starting moaning out. suddenly nick barges in "i forgot my- ahhhh" he says before slamming the door behind him. you both stop out of utter shock. you look at each other before scrambling to get dressed and go apologise to nick. you walk into the kitchen where both nick and chris were waiting.

"look at you bro getting pussy" chris says putting his hand up for a high five, matt looking unamused "not right now chris, later" he says chris lower his hand, a frown covering his face "nick i am so so sorry you had to see that, we shouldn't be doing it at all, let alone in the house. i don't want this to ruin the friendship or make things weird" you say genuinely sorry not wanting to loose some of your best friendships. "y/n, it's fine. you guys are adults your allowed to do things like that and i had a suspicion anyway" nick says like it was almost a fact "WHAT?" matt yells not believing his ears "you had a suspicion that y/n and i were fucking and didn't think to mention anything?" matt says absolutely gobsmacked not knowing what his brother was going to say next "well at first i thought you guys were dating but then you guys weren't attached enough but the amount of times you or y/n wanted to stay home or go somewhere because the other was just for you two to be separated when chris or i saw you next was ridiculous" matt and i look at each other shocked not knowing we were being so obvious. "and then i told chris because i thought i was crazy but he said he thought the same thing" matt and i look at chris.

"next time make the secret hookups more secret"

taglist

@ermdontmindthisaccount @its-jennarose @ilovemattsturn

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

Brain went brrr on Frienships headcanon and reminded me that packs are a Thing™ in A/B/O so now my brain is brainrotting about how our boys' Friendo (when they're close enough as friends, gender dynamics don't mean squat) decided to declare to their bestie that they're a pack mate/family now.

I'm all about wholesome A/B/O tbh, nothing screams fluff than just platonic friends looking out for each other having all the cuddles in the world in cozy nests and then Friendo being hit with a sudden thought before declaring thou shall be my pack mate to the boys—

I went crazy and added basically everyone I've written for which means March gets to be part of the boys :P

I love wholesome :3

cw: omegaverse

-------

Lying there in the comfort of their shared nest everything is calm and content. There's no where they'd rather be and if anything came up it better be important because there is no way they're leaving this comfort surrounded by warmth, their mixed scent, and their dear friend. Just as their eyes begin to droop they're startled awake by a sudden declaration: "Thou shall be my pack mate."

Blade

Is silent at first before he melts further into the nest. He's a little unsure how to feel but he doesn't feel bad about the situation and grunts in response when they ask him if he heard them. He does worry about the future and their reaction to his inevitable death but they reassure him they'll stick with him till the end as pack mates do.

He's a bit quieter with his declaration but he's just as happy to become pack mates with them. He actually starts purring though it's just as quiet as his declaration. The mara doesn't bother him for quite sometime after becoming pack mates with them and their presence only seems to ease his pain even more.

Jing Yuan

Pretends to be asleep after their declaration but is truly freaking out. Pack mates are serious business so he's honored to be considered as someone to be their pack mate. Once he's done teasing them or rather calmed down enough he responds to their declaration in equal measure including the odd way they said it.

Eventually does go to sleep because of how exciting and comfortable everything is. He pulls them into his chest and curls around them purring in contentment.

Welt

Snaps out of his sleepy daze so fast it's like he took an espresso shot. He looks at them in shock and amazement before he asks them if they're sure they want to become pack mates with him. Gives them the cutest smile once they reassure him that they want to become pack mates with him and he agrees to become their pack mate.

He watches over them like he used to but everyone can see he's glowing with pride and happiness after becoming their pack mate.

Luocha

Teases them for their odd phrasing but he's happy of course, who wouldn't be happy to become someones pack mate after all? He agrees to be their pack mate without fuss and considers taking them on a trip to celebrate if they're not busy. It's a little hard for him to fall to sleep after they've made their declarations because he feels energized from the news.

His expression doesn't show much but he seems even more delightful to be around after this like a flower that's been freshly watered.

Dr. Ratio

Tells them that they're already pack mates considering their shared nest and all the other stuff they've done together. He does agree to become pack mates with them though he's a bit moody about it considering he had to make it verbally known to them. Now that he's more awake he grabs his knitting materials and begins to knit with shaking hands. He's got to get his overwhelming positive feelings out somehow.

He doesn't change too much after this but he does give them more handmade gifts and goes a bit easier on them when they've got some difficulties they have trouble solving.

Sampo

He...never expected this that's for sure. He's overjoyed honestly but he's taken aback considering his whole "shady" lifestyle. He does agree to be their pack mate though with some flare of his own.

After this he's a little more open about himself though it doesn't seem like much to others it's quite a bit for him. Definitely looks out for them should they ever get themselves into trouble, even if it's trouble he'd normally avoid.

Dan Heng

Confused by their wording but he's happy he really is he's just still tense from his past where he knew he had a pack but things didn't end so well for them. A little reassurance goes a long way in easing his worries and he agrees to be their pack mate though he's still anxious.

Looks out for them much more diligently than before but he does ease up if they ask, he's just worried is all. Has a noticeable kick in his step from the joy he feels knowing he's got a pack.

Caelus

Has the biggest dumbest grin you could imagine when the words register in his brain. He's so glad that they've chosen him to be his pack mate and agrees without hesitation. It's hard for him to fall asleep and might want to burn off some energy because he's overwhelmed with joy.

Looks after his new pack mate with pride and a little hop in his step. Everyone can tell he's they're pack mate and how much it means to him.

March 7th

At first she questions them about their oddly archaic language before what they said kicks in. Practically screams from how excited and happy she is. Tackles her new pack mate and hugs them as tightly as she can without hurting them.

She's never had a pack mate before- at least as far as she can remember- so she's pretty excited and touched to be chosen as her best friends pack mate. After that she'll take a celebratory photo of them in their shared nest and declare right back that they're her pack mate as well.

[astrxealis]

arctic monkeys in the philippines raghh raghhhhhh raghhhhhhhhhh

[smuttykdrama]

[Suhyeok x Bully!Hambie!Gwinam's Sister!Reader / All Of Us Are Dead]

Warnings: NONCON (Well, sort of? Suhyeok's saying no but he actually wants it?), Female Reader, Sub!Suhyeok, Dom!Reader, Smut, Degrading.

(A/N): So i just finished AOUAD and hOLY FUCK i need more Suhyeok smut. I'm a massive fucking domme so had make this idea into a fanfic!! I might make a longer one tbh, like a book on wattpad or something haha. Anyways, filth under the cut!

"What are you smirking at, you brat, huh? Answer me.“

You moved like a predator, dangerous and calculating, and Suhyeok panted pathetically before you even touched him. You'd roughed him up a little so he was too exhausted to dare to escape your clutches.

“Nothing! None of your business, Yoon (Y/N)."

As defiant and brave as ever, Suhyeok wasn’t going to give himself up without a fight, even if he didn’t want to win that fight anyways. You'd found him alone in a classroom full of zombies, fighting for his life. Luckily, you were there to help him out of that sticky situation...and into another one. You and your psycho brother, Yoon Gwinam, had both turned into a Hambie. Conveniently, Gwinam told you that Suhyeok was yours, as long as he have Cheongsan to torment. Nightmare siblings, everyone called you.

"Lee Suhyeok. I saved you. How are you going to repay me, huh?"

You picked him up from the floor like he weighed nothing, ripping his blazer and shirt apart almost instantly, shocking him. A part of Suhyeok felt violated, but another part excited him. He'd hanged with the school bullies before, hence he knew you, and secretly liked you and your fierce attitude.

"Come on, thats enough, (Y/N). Let me go. I have to get back to the others."

Your eyes widened in anger.

"Say that again. I dare you. Do you know what fucking bullshit i had to go through to finally capture you?!"

Suhyeok accidentally moaned as you cornered him and tangled a hand in your hair, tugging on it. You basically hissed, nails leaving tracks across the tanned, unblemished skin of his chest. He gasped, attempting to push you away as you sucked on his neck harshly, making sure not to bite him...yet.

“Wha- (Y/N)..stop - nnghh..."

Suhyeok trailed off, groaning, his adams apple bobbing up and down as you traced his neck. It made you thirsty for more; to claim him as yours, to hurt him more. There was nothing more erotic than a strong fighter submitting to you completely, unable to defend himself from your advances. The truth is, ever since Suhyeok stopped talking to you, your brother and the other bullies, day by day you grew more frustrated with him. And his stupid bravery. The fact that he's not yours. That hes so perfect and good and distancing himself from you. From evil.

"Please, (Y/N). I have to help our classmates -"

Oh come on. Even when he was being violated like this, Suhyeok was thinking of others. At this point he knows he’s going to be punished for even believing that you were a nice person. Because you were a possessive freak. A weirdo. Someone who’s entire existence is frowned upon. If only he knew what it was like to be infatuated with someone until you’d either kill a person, or them.

SLAP.

“Don’t you get it? You’re mine. Stay out of everyone’s sight. Don’t touch them, talk to them, look at them, or even breathe in their direction. I'll kill you if you go back."

Before Suhyeok could say anything else, he choked on his next words as you peeled your panties off and picked him up, thrusting straight onto him, his cock completely filling you up. In that moment, he felt himself crumble in front of you. In this very moment, all Suhyeok wanted was to feel alive again. To forget about the damn zombies. You felt the sweet sting of him stretching you open, filling you to the brim and you know you’d never feel this with anyone else. No matter how shady and unethical and terrifying you were, Suhyeok knew you were not the kind of woman you find twice. 

“Are you fucking with me? You like this don’t you? You dirty little whore, Lee Suhyeok, enjoying being used by a filthy possessive girl like me. You want to be owned. Be thankful i haven't turned you already."

You weren’t taking your time, the way you’re fucking him into the wall—bucking your hips into his at a frantic pace and making him whine—it wasn’t for pleasure. No, he could tell by the way you’re keeping him close, not trying to change your angle to get deeper, that you wanted to possess him completely.

"Harder..."

He finally whispered, his eyes averting from your gaze as you fucked him into oblivion. The slapping of flesh was loud, and so was the sound of Suhyeok's ever so needy moaning. And your heavenly whimpers.

"(Y/N), fuck, im yours. I'm yours, so own me."

That's what you liked to hear.

[END]

[twinklix]

hello!! is it okay to see a soft doting dom felix x sub fem reader? i do see quite a lot of weird nsfw lix imagines and i can never read them as im pretty normal and subby and it’s rare to see nsfw imagines like that! same with hyunjin tbh <333

₍ ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎˚ ✧ anything for you | L.FL

Soft Dom Lee Felix x Fem reader | wc 1.6k

an; Hi anonie! I’m sosososo sorry for the wait. the last year was hectic i've been away but i'm back to writing now! I hope you like this! i also have a way longer felix fic planned out that was originally gonna be my response to thus request ! <3

Warnings; smut, fluff, established relationship, oral (f receiving), felix is head over heels, praise, soft dom x sub, pet names (baby, angel, beautiful), unprotected sex (wrap it up!), mentions of aftercare, lmk if i forgot anything (not edited)

18+ MDNI

"is there anything else you need?!"

He asked this like it was a life or death situation. Furrowed brows adorning his usually calm and sweet face.

"No lixie," you tried to wave his worries away with a laugh, "im fine."

His face softened as he moved to sit beside you on the bed. You turned toward him and took his face into your hands. A smile spread across his face as his eyes met yours. He got like this whenever you left for more than two days, and this time it was a month.

"i just want my baby to be happy... i missed you so much" his gaze shifted down and you released his face.

"i am happy baby! All i need to be happy is you."

A bout of relief swelled in his stomach at your reassurance. He finally let himself breathe, sighing out to try and calm himself down.

“In fact, I’ll show you how happy you make me..” His gaze, now a questioning one, drifted back to you. Before he could inquire further, you reached for his hand, leading it slowly under your skirt, eyes refusing to tear from his widening ones as you did so.

He felt his fingers brush over the fabric of your soft panties. You were wet. VERY wet.

Big doe eyes met his even bigger shocked ones.

“i missed you baby~” you practically mewled, desperation laced deep in your voice, all your neediness from every night of the past month compiled together and rested in your panties where his finger slowly began dragging up and down.

The way you squirmed at his unexpected action made his dick stir in his pants. God he missed you too.

At some point he had moved you to lay beneath him on your shared bed as he hovered above you, admiring everything about you.

“wanna taste you angel..it’s been too long.”

His wish excited you and you nodded up at him eagerly. He sat up and watched with lust filled eyes as you spread your legs, skirt pooling at your legs and putting your panties on display. The wet spot he had felt before, visible to him now.

After a soft “fuck” was mumbled, he reached forward to pull your panties down your legs (with your help). The view in front of him was something he had dreamt about constantly for the past month and now here it was. All for him.

“please baby”

Your plea reached his ears and as much as he wanted to stare at you forever, taking in the sight of your wetness sticking to your thighs, dripping from his favourite place on earth, he wanted more to taste you, feel you and mostly make you feel good.

“anything for you, angel.”

He dove in, arms wrapping around your soft thighs to hold them open as he licked a stripe up your slit.

“taste just as sweet as i remember..” he groaned before wrapping his soft lips around your bud, sucking just the way he knew you loved. And he knew he was right when your hands reached down to thread through his blonde locks. Geez, when did his hair get this long you thought. Your soft whimpers made a beeline to his dick, making it painfully hard.

A strong feeling swirled through your stomach, one that you hadn’t felt in a month. The change in your voice and the tightening of your grip in his hair must have alerted him of your situation because he suddenly pulled his mouth away.

Your hands untangled from his hair and you pushed yourself to sit up on your arms, glaring at him with furrowed brows.

“it’s okay baby, i’ll give you want you want..” You looked at him questioningly as he sat up. “..but i want you to do it while i’m inside you.”

In a moment he had stripped you of your skirt, shirt and bra, taking in the sight of your body like it was the first time again. Red spread across your cheeks as you reached up to his pants, looking up at him for permission, feeling shy that you were the only one naked. After a nod and soft hand smoothing over your hair, you unbuckled his pants and helped him out of them. Them along with his shirt and boxers were discarded on the floor along with your clothes.

Before you even got a chance to look at him, his mouth and hands were on you, kissing you like you were the only source of oxygen in the room. His hands ran along your waist and breasts like he was trying to confirm you were really there after all this time and this wasn’t just another wet dream fuelled by his longing for you.

“Beautiful.” He mumbled into your mouth, voice somehow deeper than usual. He reluctantly pulled away from your mouth as he softly pushed you to lay down.

You were so needy for him, desperate to feel him after so long. He thought you looked so adorable with hands reached up to him trying to bring him closer. “want you lix..please..it’s been so long.”

And who was he to say no to you?

He positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you to see how you bit your lip and watched impatiently to feel him inside you. He pushed himself inside slowly, immediately letting out a deep groan at how tight you were.

“Fuck..” He breathed out as he bottomed out, burrowing his face in your neck to inhale your scent that he missed so deeply.

Having him inside you made you feel full in so many ways. On one hand you felt so complete and content to be with him in this way and to be able to express your undying love for each other in the most intimate way. But on the other hand, the way his length filled you completely made your walls clench and brain go empty, thinking only of him.

“Gonna move now baby.” He told you softly, moving to hover above you. He pulled himself back out to the tip, making your breath hitch, before pushing back inside you swiftly.

You moaned out softly as he developed a steady rhythm, instantly getting lost in the feeling of you.

His eyes shut as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, resting on his arms beside your head.

The kiss was filled with love and passion. It was just another way for Felix to express his upmost adoration for you.

He angled his hips slightly, repeatedly hitting that one spot inside you, making a string of moans be muffled by the kiss. He pulled away to look down at you, his pupils blown as he watched you lost in pleasure.

“fuck..” His deep voice growled out between groans. “.. s-so…fucking beautiful.” His words were coming out stuttered. That pressure already building inside him.

He leaned down again to press wet kisses and soft bites to the sensitive spot of your neck that always made you even weaker for him.

“baby..” You moaned out, reaching up to tangle a hand in his locks.

He hummer in your neck, his thrusts speeding up to bring more sounds of pleasure from your lips.

“That’s right baby…let me hear you.. just wanna make you feel good.” And after he said that, one of his hands snaked down your body, applying pressure to your swollen clit, causing you to tighten around him impossibly more.

“So close lixie!” Those words were such a relief to your boyfriend because he knew he couldn’t last much longer. Not when you felt this good around him and sounded this pretty below him.

The fingers on your clit, along with his thrusts sped up as he groaned out.

“B-baby!” You alerted him loudly that the coil inside of you was about to snap. But he already knew. he could tell by how your walls pulsated around him, practically squeezing his cock.

“i know angel.. i know. let go for me beautiful”

You didn’t need to be told twice as your orgasm washed over you with another loud moan. He couldn’t take it anymore either as he pushed himself inside you as deep as possible and released inside you, panting and groaning.

His hips rocked a few more times to help you both ride out your highs (and because he wasn’t ready yet to be apart from you). Only when overstimulation settled into him did he slowly pull out, instantly connecting his lips to yours as you wrapped your arms around him.

“i love you so much. you’re so perfect. i can’t be apart with you that long again.” The words poured out of him desperately between kisses, all emotions and love for you pouring through him.

“i love you too lixie.” The words were breathy as you slowly came down, smiling up at him warmly as he pulled away from you.

His eyes fell to where your mixed releases spilled from you. His heart swelled knowing he was finally connected with you again after all this time.

Your gaze moved to where his was as you giggled, sitting up on your arms. “i should probably clean myself up.” You giggled but felix shook his head, quickly and softly moving you to lay down comfortably again.

“Your not moving baby. You’re not lifting a single finger!” He declared dramatically making you giggle again. “I’ll do everything for you.” He informs before leaning down to kiss you once more.

“I’d do anything for you.”