#Ladybird🐞 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darkworkcourier · 2 years

Note

Could you write Ghost x fem!reader where she finds him attractive but is too shy to actually tell him but also can't hide the way she's feeling, so Ghost notices her interest and eventually they end up in bed (*cough* you know what I mean)? Also Ghost being gentle and protective towards her, plz

Ps. I love your writing!

Word Count: 8314

i’m incapable of short prompt fills, apparently! o, but i am filled with grief!

anywho, reader’s codename is ‘ladybird’ (hc that soap gave it to her because she’s lucky) but is otherwise nameless.

contains masturbation, oral sex, lots of feelings, wee bit of slow burn, ghost being like weirdly emotional and soft, and soap’s gratuitous and unfortunate use of emojis. 💀/🐞4ever

---

The first time it really hits you, you're in a helicopter about two miles above the ground—honestly a terrible place to face your feelings. It's a velvet-dark night, strategically chosen for the new moon, the countryside below nearly invisible. You're almost in a doze, caught up in the Chinook's blades' low, thunderous pulse and the sporadic rocking as it hits little glades of turbulence. Your eyes lose focus on some of the running lights, until they turn hazy, and its only when the man across from you moves his boot do you snap back to attention.

Ghost. Right. You learned his name a few weeks ago during your orientation, but he was deployed on a recon mission only a day later. Price summoned him back for this mission, but aside from a few gruff comments at the all-hands meeting, you haven't heard him say much.

For a moment, you think he might have dozed off, too. He’s leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. And that’s fair, you think; Soap told you he didn’t think Ghost ever slept.

You silently study him, the way his head rocks a little with the turbulence, how much taller he is than everyone else in his row, the peculiar illusion that the eye sockets of his mask are empty—

And suddenly they aren’t.

He’s looking back at you, dark eyes regarding you passively, even though the mask makes every look significantly more intimidating. For moment that goes on way too long, you don’t look away, your gazes locked. Your heart takes the tracheal elevator to your throat, beating loud enough to drown out the Chinook’s roar.

You look away first, and you swear you hear him snort.

The rest of the journey to the drop-off zone, you deliberately don’t look at him; but when you close your eyes, there he is.

All you can think is ohhhh, shit.

---

Military crushes aren’t abnormal. Put enough people at the peak of physical excellence in a room, throw around some form-fitting uniforms, and mix in a few adrenaline rushes—it’s a goddamn potent mixture. You’ve had your share of mess hall dreamy-eyed gazing sessions, and a few ‘I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you go’ moments in gyms and fitness centers. That’s fine; that’s normal.

What you start feeling for Ghost isn’t that.

Nevermind that he’s rarely out of tactical dress, and if he is, he usually defaults to a hoodie or something that doesn’t exactly entice the imagination. And he’s never out of some variation of his mask, so you can’t think woah, pal, do you cut glass with that jawline because as far as you can tell, he doesn’t have one. No mooning over cheekbones, admiring the curve of lips. He has nice eyes, but ever since the night in the Chinook, you haven’t been able to meet them for more than a second before your heart does that terrible little samba again.

Per your mental checklist, aside from being tall and muscular, he doesn’t check all your normal boxes. By all those counts, Gaz or Soap are way better fits. Hell, Soap likes to hang around in his silkies like they’re pajamas, showing off plenty to keep your fantasy fodder trough filled. And you’ve caught Gaz doing push-ups in the lounge, his tight shirt doing wonders for his shoulders.

But it’s Ghost who makes you feel like a hormonal teenager. It’s Ghost that gets you antsy and fidgety when he enters a room. And it’s Ghost that you think about during your rare alone time in the shower, when your hands start drifting south and the tile walls are your only support.

You’ve got it bad for him, and you have no idea what to do about it.

---

You’re doing recon in Berlin when Soap notices.

The mission details are simple: a drug lord known as Keiler using a night club as a go-between for his suppliers and dealers—all further complicated by the fact that he has plenty of friends in the arms trade, and by Laswell’s reports, he’s very generous to those friends. The club is a front, a money laundering wonderland. Through your observation, drugs and alcohol are doled out in equal volume, all to the backdrop of skull-splitting bass and sharp scalpels of strobe lights.

The biggest obstacle is that Keiler likes to use a private room overlooking the club as his perch, and your intelligence says that at any given time, he has a small army defending him. Getting to him requires an incredible degree of finesse. Naturally, Ghost is the one to do it.

You, Soap, and Gaz are scattered around the main floor of the club. Gaz is out on the dance floor, Soap’s taken up a spot near the bar, and you’re in the lounge. It’s the first time you’ve done something like this (and in an outfit with so little fabric), and you’re really not used to being ogled and pawed by a bunch of drunk, drugged, or horny Berliners.

Soap must see your discomfort from his position, as you hear a dry, amused, “Feelin’ a little tense, Ladybird?”

You swallow hard and chase it with a sip of your drink, which definitely needs to be watered down. “I’m fine,” you say.

“You look like you just drank petrol.”

“You’re the one who ordered it for me.”

Gaz cuts in with a weary, “Do we have eyes on Ghost, yet? I’m starting to get tired of people grabbing my—”

“I’m here,” Ghost’s voice scrapes over the comms, causing you to sit up straight and look around. You catch sight of Soap who has his hand curled in front of his mouth, clearly snickering like a heathen.

“Think you scared the shit out of Ladybird, LT,” he says.

He’s lucky he’s on the other side of the room, otherwise you’d pretend to be extremely clumsy and find an excuse to spill your drink on his (very, very tight) shirt. You mouth ‘shut up’ at him, and he reaches up with his pointer finger to draw an invisible halo over his head.

Ghost ignores him. “I’m near the east stairwell, headed to second deck. Got one guard at the far end. Gaz, you seein’ anything I should know about?”

A pause, then, “Negative, Ghost. I’ve got what you’ve got.”

“Copy. Going to second deck now.”

Out of habit, your eyes go to the east stairwell, peering through the haze pierced with multicolored lights to see a single dark shape ascending. He disappears behind a catwalk, then reappears to the right, mingling with the crowd near the second floor bar. Once he’s there, he seems to fade into the throng of people, most in dark clothing, some in masks. Just like that, he’s invisible.

It’s hard to focus on looking calm and happy to be there, but you keep sipping your drink, watching the dancers and feeling the bassline of yet another techno song thrumming in your chest. You’re glad you’re not out on the dance floor, or being called to give come-hither glances to bouncers and guards.

Then, “Coming back down to first deck,” Ghost says, clearly agitated. “Too many guards and too many people. We need another way up.”

Soap grins. “Violence isn’t the answer, LT?”

“Negative. Start looking for another route.”

On cue, you stand up and cross the room to the bar, sliding in beside Soap. He’s fishing for another couple Euro from his wallet, pushing it across to the bartender with two fingers. The bartender gives him a brief nod and refills his glass, while Soap turns his attention to you.

“Any bright ideas?”

You frown and adjust the straps on your top again. It’s a stupid piece of clothing, always feeling like it’s going to fall off. “Only the emergency stairs by the front doors, but I can’t imagine Keiler leaves those undefended.”

Soap looks thoughtful and scratches at his stubble. “Yeah, but probably no civilians, either. And if the door’s alarmed, Ghost can take care of that.”

As if summoned, you feel Ghost appear before you see him, a huge presence over your shoulder that makes you jump. “Jesus!” you hiss.

And Soap, the traitor, laughs to the point of wheezing as Ghost takes up the bar stool on his other side. “I think you’re giving our Ladybird here a complex,” Soap says through his laughter.

Ghost rolls his eyes. From this angle, you can see Ghost in more than just the dim light you’ve been working with most of the night. He’s not dressed too far outside his usual fashion wheelhouse—heavy boots, black trousers, and a loose black hoodie. His hood’s pulled up over a black beanie and a skull-painted gaiter, and he’s foregone his usual thick coating of greasepaint for black-ringed eyes (is that eyeliner?) and a streak of smoke-colored paint that just manages to obscure the color of his brows. The downside (for you, at least) is that the combo manages to draw his eyes into sharper contrast, making them that much more intense.

Suddenly, your heart’s doing the thing again.

Ghost doesn’t seem to notice any change in you, but you think Soap’s actually looking for it. He watches you, brows lifted, mouth curled like a flirtation of a smirk. Briefly, he glances between you and Ghost, and then the smirk appears in full force, enlightenment dawning.

Before he can insinuate a thing, you’re shoving your half-empty glass across the bar top with a too-high, “Bitte.” The bartender only gives you a brief, unamused look before taking your glass and remaking whatever godforsaken cocktail Soap ordered.

It’s not a good distraction, and the damage is already done. Soap knows, damnit. His smile is too easygoing, but he turns to Ghost and starts talking about the emergency stairwell, which is a relief. Ghost looks over his shoulder toward the stairwell in question, and as he does, Soap looks at you and makes the gesture of zipping his own mouth shut, throwing away the proverbial key with a wink.

As he does, Gaz pipes back up with, “Ghost, you copy?”

“Yeah, Gaz?”

“You, uh, know anything about a big guy with a tattoo of a boar on the back of his head?”

Ghost looks toward the dance floor, brows furrowing. “Yeah, that’d be Bauer, Keiler’s right hand man.”

“Great. Glad you know him, because he’s here.”

Shit. He wasn’t supposed to be. If Bauer’s here, then either Keiler’s doing something more than his usual partying upstairs, or Keiler knows someone’s here looking for him. Either way, the mission just got significantly harder, and your night got that much longer.

With a grunt, Ghost pushes off the bar and starts making his way to the emergency stairwell. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Keep your eyes open. Out here.”

Once he’s gone, there’s a pause—a very heavy pause. Then, Soap looks at you with an expression that is just a hair too pleased. “Ghost, huh?”

Your face heats up, right as the bartender hands you your drink. You reach for your wallet, only for the bartender to put a hand up and shake his head. “Nein, für das schöne Mädchen,” he says.

For the pretty girl.

“Bet Ghost thinks so, too,” Soap says, and you resolve to definitely spill your free drink on his too-tight pants.

---

Weeks after Keiler’s nice and cozy in a maximum-security prison and the 141 is back at base, you have another miniature existential crisis.

It’s all an accident—just a tempest of bad timing and bad luck. Ever since you came back from Germany, you’ve had a tough time getting a full night’s sleep. It’s easy to blame the natural stress of your work, the long hours, the high-adrenaline action you see more than you ever did before this job. And, well, part of it has to come from Ghost. He’s occupied your thoughts more than ever since the night club.

Your solution is to hit the gym late at night, pushing yourself until you can’t keep your eyes open and no amount of insomnia can overcome it. The first few nights of this effort work fine—you end up in bed around one or two in the morning, and sleep until your alarm goes off. No one bothers you; no one hogs the machines. It’s kind of nice.

However, you don’t account for all the night owls that share the base with you.

You head to the gym late on a Friday night, towel around your neck, water bottle at the ready, podcasts preloaded. If you ever hit the gym during the day, you usually do so in a t-shirt and sweatpants. At night, you’ve started opting for PT shorts and a tank top, happy for the lack of eyes around the room.

Except for tonight.

You open the door into the gym, only to hear the mechanical drone of a treadmill and someone sprinting damn fast on it. For a second, you freeze, hiding behind the corner. Then, slowly, you peer around it, clutching your phone and water bottle close to your chest.

Jesus Christ. It’s Ghost.

Ghost, in a t-shirt. In sweatpants. Running on a treadmill set to the highest incline. Panting.

Ghost, with bare arms, showing a detailed tattoo on his left arm, and prominent veins running over his chiseled muscles. He looks like a fucking Greek statue, and that’s just what you can see.

“Ohhh, my God,” you whisper to yourself, immediately working on an exit strategy that doesn’t involve catching his attention.

Which obviously doesn’t come to pass. It’s something you probably should have learned on the helo ride—Ghost knows when he’s being watched. He turns his head, dark eyes fixing on you immediately. Briefly, he looks back at the treadmill, then down at his watch, and back to the treadmill’s controls. He slows it down, dropping the incline, until he finally steps off and starts walking toward you.

Abort, abort.

You think about fleeing, running back to your room or rolling under a table or hiding behind a counter like he’s a goddamn velociraptor in the kitchen. You do none of those things, because despite your training, you freeze up. No one could blame you, you think. It’s hard to do much else when a six-foot-something skull-faced wall of muscle walks up to you. And you must look stellar, holed up in a corner by the door, your water bottle and phone held up like a shield.

Ghost takes in the sight of you, eyes flicking up, down, up. Heat rises to your face, and down to—to nowhere, because it’s better not to think about it. You suddenly feel too vulnerable in your choice of outfit, naked under his gaze.

“Ladybird,” he says. Your nickname becomes a hot scratch of sound, losing its whimsy in favor of a tone you can’t define. “You need somethin’?”

There’s a patch of sweat by his collar. You stare at it, then at the floor.

“No, I just— I was, um, just about to leave, and... Yeah, I’m gonna go.”

He’s silent until you finally look up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what what feels like an eon. He looks amused, but there’s a quirk in his brow like he can’t quite get a good read on you. “You look like you were about to use the gym.”

You look down at your bottle, phone, and towel like you’re just now noticing them. When you bring your attention back to him, you feel like you need to just kick the door open and escape, dignity be damned. “I... was,” you say slowly. Then, you rally yourself, trying to look upbeat and resolved. “Y’know what? You can keep using it. I’ll come back later.”

He shrugs, but you see it. Some secondary expression slinking around in his eyes like it’s working through the perpetually-moving cogs in his head. He gives you another one of those assessing glances, and for a second, you think he’s going to step into your space. His body language looks primed to do so, and you hold your breath in anticipation for it, unsure of what he’s going to do.

Then he takes a step back, and another.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “I wouldn’t mind it, though.”

Before you can process his words, he’s back on the treadmill, tweaking the settings and raising the incline again. The belt starts moving, and he’s back to looking like power personified, a vision in motion.

You have got it so bad.

It’s a hasty retreat to your room, and once the door’s shut behind you, you’re panting like you had run on the treadmill and lifted weights.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hiss, discarding your things on the table beside your bed, kicking off your running shoes, then laying down and staring at the ceiling. He knows. He has to. Ghost’s whole job depends on him being observant, and he looked at you like he was reading a fucking book.

You groan and press your palms into your eyes until phosphenes appear, dancing around and shimmering like fireworks behind your eyelids. You’re going to have to leave the 141 out of pure mortification. You’ll have to go into some kind of witness protection, change your name, and move to the other side of the earth. Or if you stay, you’ll have to pretend Ghost doesn’t exist. You’ll hide behind walls, slinking through the building’s HVAC just to avoid him like you’re working on a heist. Maybe you can convince Soap or Gaz to accompany you everywhere so you can hide behind their bulk.

But then, your horrible brain reminds you of what you’ll miss out on. It runs through a greatest hits reel of your crush so far—Ghost’s eyes, his presence stretching long over you like a shadow, his massive frame, his arms. The tattoo, detailed enough to tell from a distance, and then the thought of running your fingers over it, tracing all the fine points and lines. And are those his only tattoos, or are there more?

And his voice. Jesus, you replay the few words you’ve heard him say over and over, savoring each syllable, each quirk of his accent. Even the last thing he said—

I wouldn’t mind it, though.

That makes you open your eyes again, widening them as you take in the pocks and scrapes on the ceiling. He wouldn’t mind what? Having company in the gym? Having you, specifically, as his company? You don’t know what to make of it, or what he meant by it. Honestly, you feel like you don’t know anything right now.

Except that you want him. That’s the only thing you’re sure of. You want to know how his hands feel on you, how they would run over your bare skin, what the callouses on his fingers would feel like on the most delicate and sensitive parts of your body. Your imagination leaps ahead of you, guiding your own hand down into your shorts and under the band of your panties. You tease yourself, just dipping your fingers into the wet heat, trailing them over your clit like a hint to yourself, coaxing your arousal out of your panic.

His hands would feel different. When you rub your index finger over your clit, you imagine his finger instead, pressing gently against you, building up friction slowly, making you ache. You wonder if he’d savor your reactions, watching you get worked up, grinding against his hand to seek any kind of relief.

“Easy, Ladybird,” you imagine him saying, the nickname now a tease. And he’d know your real name, the one hidden away in your file. He’d whisper it into your ear, breath hot on your neck, his whole body eclipsing yours.

Your pace quickens, fingers running urgently between your clit and opening, causing your core to tighten and your breath to come in short gasps and barely-concealed moans. Ghost would tell you to let them out, let the whole damn base hear how aroused he makes you, how badly you’ve wanted him.

You breathe his name into the small space of your room, a whisper in the still air broken only by the low hum of the forced air in the vents. When you finally plunge your fingers in, it takes every bit of self-control not to outright moan and let everyone nearby know what you’re doing. Normally, you can stay quiet when you get yourself off, but you’re damn near frantic with this, whatever it is Ghost has done to you.

His fingers in you, fucking you in long, languid strokes, drawing himself out and pushing back in—all the while, watching your reactions. When you rock your hips to the pace of your hand, you imagine his voice again, “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand. Let me see you.”

You’d show him. Hell, you’d soak his hand, and it would remind him that it’s his fault you’re like this.

The wet sounds of your hand on your cunt is lewd and loud. It’s almost too much, enough to make you stop at the apex of your pleasure, to hide yourself under the blankets in shame and pretend that none of this happened.

But the vision of Ghost keeps you going, keeps your fingers moving in and out, crooking them inside and forcing out a gasp as a white-hot shock of pleasure lances up your spine and settles warm in your belly. The pad of your thumb presses against your clit, and you multitask on yourself, building up that friction, bringing yourself to the precipice.

He’d take you there. He might even pull you back from the edge over and over, teasing you with the fall.

“Do you want it? How bad? Show me.”

God, you would. Any way he wanted, you would show him. You’d beg and plead if that’s what got him to finally make you come.

So you whisper, “Please,” into the night, to a man who is never going to be in your bed, never going to touch you like this, never going to see your pleasure through to the end. The Ghost in your imagination has to stay there, behind locked doors and bulkheads, secured and contained for good.

But until then, you chase your orgasm with him, hitting that divine height and going into a freefall. Blood rushes in your ears, muscles twitching, heart racing. Your head comes off the pillow, back arching, toes digging into the mattress, mouth open on a moan that you refuse to let loose. You come way harder than you ever have using your own hand, enough that when you finally lower yourself back onto the bed, you grimace at the feeling of a wet patch on the sheets.

“Fuck,” you say, very emphatically. To yourself, to Ghost, to the whole damn situation.

Groaning, you reach over and grab the towel, wiping your hand and tucking it under your ass before rolling onto your back again and wondering what the hell you’re going to do.

---

You’re going to hide from Ghost, that’s what.

Captain Price gives the team a few days off to rest up for the next mission, and you decide right then and there that you’re going to spend every second off base, as far away from the barracks as you can get. You’ll get a hotel, order a ridiculously expensive amount of room service, and marinate in your feelings for a couple days until it’s all out of your system. Maybe you’ll go to a bar or coffee shop and chat up some nice person who isn’t a tall, broad, terrifying British soldier. And maybe you’ll have a night of incredible passion and twisted sheets, and it’ll be so cathartic that when you come back to base, you’ll be a whole new person.

That plan holds until your phone goes off while you’re packing up.

It’s a text from Soap: ‘wyd?’

‘Going off radar for a couple days. Why?’

He sends a sad emoji, then two beer glasses clinking together, a soccer ball, and then a big red question mark. Apparently, Soap only knows how to speak in hieroglyphs.

You smile, and type back, ‘Sorry, need to go clear my head.’

Skull emoji. Question mark.

‘None of your beeswax,’ you send, followed by the soap emoji.

‘that sucks,’ he types back. There’s a short pause, and then he types again. ‘cause he was looking for u earlier’

Your heart damn near comes to a stop, and you very hesitantly respond, ‘Why?’

‘idk. think he wanted to ask u smth’

Nope. You’re not taking the bait. If Ghost wants to talk to you, he can come right up and—and you can walk off in the opposite direction and act like there’s something incredibly interesting that you need to see right that second.

You type a few variations of ‘Then he can come and talk to me himself,’ but none of them sound particularly nice. Ghost hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason for you to act like he has. And for that matter, you’re supposed to be hiding from Ghost, not encouraging him to find you. Instead, you send back a clipped, ‘Okay.’

Nothing.

For one hopeful second, you think Soap’s mercifully let the conversation go, allowing you to go in peace to your nice hotel and your overpriced room service food.

Instead, you get the sunglasses emoji, a wink face, and, ‘k i told him to come see u’.

‘WHAT’

The only response is the skull and the little running cloud dash emoji, suggesting that Ghost is making a beeline right to your room. Panic seizes you and you fling your phone on your bed like somehow it’s going to help. It bounces harmlessly, then lands screen up, emojis taunting you.

Quickly, you start shoving the rest of your clothes and toiletries in your bag without a care as to where everything goes, eager to book it out of there as fast as your legs can take you. Once your bag is zipped up and thrown over your shoulder, you think you might be in the clear. Mission nearly accomplished.

Nearly.

Two solid knocks on your door almost make you hit the ceiling. You hold still, using that Jurassic Park wisdom again: if you don’t move, he can’t see you.

That applies to fictional dinosaurs, not trained killers, and certainly not Ghost. He knocks again, then follows it up with, “Ladybird, it’s me.”

Yeah, you know. That’s the problem.

Briefly, you consider going out the window, shimmying out and potentially getting caught on a base security camera for someone to laugh at later. That doesn’t make the problem go away, though.

You can just tell him you’re in a hurry, that your ride is at the gate right now and you don’t want to keep them waiting. Whatever conversation he wants to have, it’ll have to wait until you get back. It’s a good response. Solid. Foolproof.

And it dissolves the second you open the door.

He’s there, not vanished in the disappearing act you were hoping for, and all that want flares up again the moment you see him. He’s in casual dress like what he wore to the club—boots, jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, balaclava. His posture’s more relaxed, one hand in his hoodie pocket, the other hanging at his side. You meet his eyes, and your regret mixes with desire welling up inside you.

It’s that intense gaze from the helo, the brief but incendiary look from Berlin, the thoughtful gaze from the gym. You’re drawn up in it immediately, and this time, there’s no possibility of looking away. Ghost has you locked in.

He takes in the sight of you, dressed in your civvies, backpack on your shoulders, and raises his brows. “Going somewhere?”

Your mouth is cotton-dry, and you’re proud of yourself for putting a little syntax together. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m headed out.”

Right now, you should say. I’m going out right this second and I cannot be stopped. Do not engage.

But you don’t say that. You leave the words as they are, hanging between the two of you. In that moment, you’re two opposing fronts of contradictions—you want him to go, stay, talk, stay silent, touch you, leave you alone.

Ghost seems to sense this, that you’re not making any move to either speak to him or push him away. He doesn’t get into your space, staying right where he is while looking at you with his head slightly tilted. “Can I come in a sec?”

No. “Yes.” Please.

You take a step back, allowing him to walk into your room. His presence seems to fill it, like there’s too much of him and too little space to contain it. He closes the door behind himself, then finds a spot against the wall (the rare section that isn’t covered by posters or mementos) and leans against it. Still, still giving you your space.

You’re all nerves, waiting for him to speak, yet feeling like you should say something—to get all your feelings out in the open, exposed and waiting for him to pick over and do with what he will. But your anxiety and silence wins out, and instead you fidget, trying to find a point in the room to fix your gaze. Ghost takes all your attention though, holding it in a firm, invisible grip that can’t be broken no matter what you do. You get now, more than ever, why people are so scared of him when they end up at the wrong end of his skill set—he immobilizes them, rendering them completely unable to do a damn thing.

He watches you for an agonizingly long moment, then sighs. “Look, I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy, but Soap said you were around,” he says. Ghost doesn’t trail off or leave a space in his words for you to fill in the blanks. It’s a good thing—no place for you to misinterpret him—but it suddenly leaves you terrified at the possibility of what he’s going to say.

“Just for a little bit,” you hear yourself say, voice subdued and small.

He nods. “Then I’ll just get it out now before you go. More or less a question.”

Fuck. You feel a strange, uncomfortably cold sensation curl up tight and tense in your stomach. The feeling of standing at the edge of a long drop, knowing you have no choice but to let go.

His eyes are locked on yours, unrelenting, pinning. And then he says, “Do you have feelings for me?”

Right. No way to misinterpret.

You suck in a breath—a gasp, jerking at the question even though you knew it was coming.

You could lie. It’d be easy to do, just a few movements of tongue, jaw, and lips. No, I don’t. Three easy words. You could say you appreciate him as a teammate, as a professional, as someone you can trust in tough situations. He has your back; you have his. Anything beyond that is too much, to far outside of the commanding officer-subordinate hierarchy.

But you can’t lie to him. He’ll know. He’s trained in looking for tells, for the slightest quirk to denote that you’re holding back the truth. That, and you don’t want to lie to him.

Instead, quietly, you say, “Yes,” and inwardly brace for impact. Any kind of dressing-down from your C.O. and reminder of responsibilities and duties; or on a personal level, that Ghost doesn’t do relationships. You’re tensed up, waiting for its inevitable blow and all the shrapnel that’s definitely going to land right in your heart.

“Oh,” he says.

Oh.

Just one syllable, said deceptively, uncharacteristically soft. It belies so many things—possibilities, dangers. This man is fucking complicated.

And then he takes a step toward you. Just one. Just enough to close the gap that many inches. You don’t back up, but you’re too afraid to walk to him, unsure of what’s coming next.

He’s looking down at you, gaze passive, calm, and strangely open. You’ve learned new and interesting ways to read his eyes since you fell for him, but this one has an unknown definition, a kinesic oddity that you can’t translate.

And for a moment, you let yourself hope.

Then, he says your name. Not Ladybird. Not your rank. Your name. The sound of it is a rush in your ears, in your whole head, through every artery, vein, and capillary. He takes another step, slower than the first, drawing in closer before he says, “Do you want this?”

You nod. There’s nothing else you can do. You take a step toward him, looking up into his eyes and trying to read everything there. “Do you?” you ask. You’re still waiting for the rejection, as though Ghost is the type of person to lure you in only to shut you down.

Rejection doesn’t come. Instead, he steps forward to close the gap, one of his hands finding your waist.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

Holy shit.

You stare at him in surprise, and the look on your face must be ridiculously easy to read. His other hand goes up under your chin, tilting your face toward him. The touch of his fingers is exactly like you imagined, the callouses on his thumb brushing over the soft skin underneath your jaw, causing you to shiver.

Ghost leans in close to your left side, skull’s grin close to your ear, and whispers, “Thought you hated me. Every time I looked at you, you’d look away.”

A near-hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat, and comes out as a compressed, breathless giggle. All that time, you were so hopelessly in love with him, you couldn’t look at him without feeling like your heart was about to give out; and he interpreted that as dislike.

“God, no,” you say. “Total opposite.”

He laughs in your ear, and the sound chases out the remainder of that cold tension, replacing it with a newfound heat that feels good. “Wish I’d known sooner,” he says, and one of his hands goes up to push a strap of your backpack off your shoulder.

You ease out of it, dropping it to the floor, before reaching out and tentatively touching his waist in return. Through the fabric of his hoodie, you can feel how solid he is underneath, and you run your hand along his side in silent wonder.

Ghost moves back suddenly, and you only have a second to question why before the light goes out, leaving you in muted darkness permeated only by the bare sliver of sunlight filtering through your curtain. One hand finds your waist again, pulling you close, walking you toward your bed.

All you can think is no fucking way over and over, even as the back of your legs hit the side of the bed, and Ghost is lowering you down. Your back touches the mattress, head on the pillow, and Ghost is over the top of you, his hands bracketing your head. He looks down at you, mostly in shadow, only the bright white of the skull motif visible in the darkness. Then, his eyes flicker to his left, and he abruptly snorts.

You furrow your brow. “What?”

Wordlessly, his hand moves to the right of your head, and he picks up your phone.

Your phone which is still on, showing the emoji-heavy conversation with Soap. Ghost flips the phone to show you the last text he sent.

Skull emoji, kiss, black heart, red heart, ladybug, eggplant, peach, confetti ball, birthday cake.

“What the fuck, Soap?” you say under your breath, grabbing the phone from Ghost. You quickly turn it off and shove it onto your bedside table, groaning in embarrassment.

Ghost shakes his head, and unlike Soap, he doesn’t remark on it. Instead, he brings the situation right back on the rails with one hand going up under your shirt. Then, he says, “Close your eyes a second.”

You do, without question. You hear a faint rustle of fabric, and then his lips press against yours.

You gasp against his mouth, and that thrill you felt at hearing your name seems to rush back through you twofold at the thought that he took his mask off for you. He kisses you firmly, a guarantee that this is what he wants. You reach up with one hand, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp and drawing out a quiet groan. He smells like standard-issue soap and laundry detergent, and the faint spice of cologne only just clinging to his skin. The feeling of kissing him is dizzying, entrancing, and the sound of it just hammers home that this is happening to you, in your room, with him.

He pulls back just a little, kissing a trail from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, then your jaw, and up to your ear. The sensation makes you shiver again, arching up into him involuntarily. You hear and feel an amused huff of breath, before he says, “What do you want?”

Good god, what don’t you want?

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Anything. Whatever you want.”

He nods against your neck, then tilts his head up to press a kiss to your temple. “Tell me if it’s too much, or if there’s something you don’t like. Communicate.”

You grin, mostly at the sotto voce version of his command voice. “Yes, sir.”

He huffs a laugh and continues kissing down your neck, down to the hemline of your shirt. Undressing comes as an easy next step, shoes off first (and they were on the bed, ugh), and then Ghost pulls your shirt up; you lift yourself enough to help him pull it over your head. In the darkness, he does the same, and you watch his silhouette remove his hoodie, then pull his shirt over his head and drop it off the side of the bed. You can’t see his face, but the faint beam of sunlight touches his hair and brings out a hint of pale gold. It feels like a secret shared between you, adding to that warmth building up inside.

He leans back down, kissing down your sternum to the upper hem of your sports bra. He starts to go lower, and you decide then that you’d like to take at least a little initiative.

“Wait,” you whisper. “Come back up here.”

He does, like he’s accustomed to obeying your orders rather than the other way around. You reach up and touch his chest, eager to feel this part of him, the one he typically buries under layers of clothing and gear. He sighs at your touch, head dropping down to rest on the pillow beside you.

He’s firm and toned with well-honed muscle earned through endless missions and exercise. At the same time, the skin of his chest is surprisingly soft—even the scattered network of scars and keloids that mark his body. You feel old and new wounds, some still raised as they heal, some concave with age. They’re long, short, thick, thin, orderly, and jagged. Starbursts of bullet wounds, hard lines of cuts, spatters of shrapnel, textured lines of old stitches. His whole torso tells a long, tragic story from cover to cover, chest to back.

But he leans into this read of him, letting you feel every scar, every painful moment. His breathing is steady in your ear, giving way to the occasional sigh as your fingers trail over his skin.

In turn, he touches you. You don’t have even a fraction of his scars, but you have a few he can note. You know when he touches them, by the way his touch lingers, learning each one. It feels reverential, or communal—the two of you engaging in a silent trust exercise. He doesn’t ask about them, and neither do you. All of that is for another time.

Ghost presses a kiss to your shoulder, then pushes up until he’s over top of you again. His free hand goes down to the waistline of your jeans, finger tracing teasingly over the zipper. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathless. As if you’d say anything else.

He undoes the button, then the zipper, slowly pulling your jeans to your hips, then removing them entirely. He sits up on the edge of the bed for a moment, removing his boots, then his jeans. You lay there, watching him move, feeling your arousal start to grow and burn like a low flame.

When he touches you again, you silently agree that you wish you’d said or done something sooner. It’s bliss. He’s gentle with you, mindful even, in a way you’ve never experienced or anticipated from someone like him. He helps you out of your bra, letting you pull it all the way off before his hands palm your breasts in slow, deliberate movements. It’s an extension of his exploratory touches, learning your body inch by inch.

Your breathing quickens, and Ghost looks up at you in what you guess is concern. “Doing alright?” he asks.

Your face grows hot, and you nod, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”

It’s not like you haven’t had sex before, but sex with him feels completely different, like it doesn’t belong in the same category. You’ve never wanted someone this badly, or had someone respond to you like this. It’s almost overwhelming, but Ghost reaches up and combs some of your hair away from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Lie back a bit,” he instructs. “And tell me if you need me to stop.”

You do as he says, leaning up against the pillows as he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses down your torso to your hips. He’s a shadow moving over you, long and languid, and every touch just adds to the mounting heat. When his fingers touch the hem of your underwear, you shiver in anticipation, then arch your hips to give him a little leverage in removing them. In one motion, you’re exposed to him, even in the dark. Yet after touching him, and him touching you, you don’t feel as vulnerable. If anything, this feels safe. This feels right.

His hands go to your hips, then run slowly along the outer sides of your thighs. You think he might fulfill that fantasy from earlier, fingering you until you’re a mess, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure with his skilled hands.

Which is why it surprises the hell out of you when he goes lower, until his head is between your thighs, sunlight leaving gold stripes along his back.

“Ghost,” you gasp.

He looks up at you, and now more than ever, you wish you could see his face. You only see the faint shine of his eyes, but at that moment, it’s enough.

Then he spreads you, and licks a stripe from your opening to your clit.

If you were entertaining any thoughts before, any fantasies carefully curated in those rare hours of alone time, they flee in that single movement. Even the Ghost of your imagination never did this, tasting and savoring you in long, slow laps that make your whole brain short out like a blown fuse. The sound is goddamn obscene, especially as he leans in close and starts to lap at your clit. It’s a shock of sound in the silence, louder than even your own noises when you got yourself off.

Your right hand finds his head, fingers running through his hair as he licks you. He alternates between short laps and long strokes, tongue circling around your clit, teasing you, making you shudder and moan. It’s frustrating and fucking heavenly, the sensation of ebb and flow, receding and rushing waves of heat building up then flowing back.

Right when you think you can’t take the teasing anymore, he switches tactics. The teasing abruptly ends, and Ghost gets relentless.

You moan way too loud when he sucks at your clit, tongue swirling around it, the sound of his mouth on you loud as a gunshot. You swear they have to hear it down the hallway, or anywhere on base. At this point, though, you really don’t care who hears you, because they don’t have Ghost between their legs, getting them off in ways no deity ever intended.

Then his fingers join his mouth, index tracing circles around your entrance, dipping in slowly, tauntingly.

“Fuck.” The word is sharp in the air, as you arch at the sensation.

It’s too much; it’s not enough.

He tilts his head up a little, but when he speaks, you feel his warm breath ghost over your sex. “Let me hear you,” he says, words drawn straight out of your fantasies. Every door containing that imaginary version of Ghost is unlocked, every bulkhead breached—that Ghost and this one are one in the same.

And when he pushes that first finger into you, you follow his order to the letter.

It comes out as a broken wail, cut off when he starts thrusting and licking you in alternate strokes. His pace quickens, merciless, sharp eyes watching you from the shadows as your head rolls back on the pillow, chest heaving to catch a single solid breath. Your hands drop to your sides, fisting the sheets just to have something to hang onto, any kind of anchor as Ghost guides you through a tempest.

You moan his name, last consonant catching on a sob of pleasure when he starts to add a second finger. Only then does he pause, and the absence of his mouth is stark.

Then he says your name, temporarily drawing you out of the cumulonimbus of arousal you’re flying through, briefly bringing you back to earth.

You look down at him, the silhouette of his head, small locks of hair sticking up from where your fingers combed through. You see him tilt his head to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, and his voice rolls out like a dull roar of thunder in your ears. “It’s Simon,” he says. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, hearing his real name in the midst of all this is almost too much. Like the last little vestige of a play on stage falling away and revealing the inner workings of the backstage, all the ropes and pullies holding the show together. He’s more exposed now, more raw, more human.

You reach down, trembling hand brushing over his cheek, over stubble and scar tissue, and the soft skin of a very real face.

“Simon,” you whisper. It sounds like a confession.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel him smile against your hand, briefly turning his head to press a kiss against your palm. Then he’s lowering himself down again, coaxing you out of the eye of the storm and back into the maelstrom. Two fingers thrust and curl, filling you, leaving you empty, touching places that send bolts of pleasure through you.

Your pulse becomes the thunder of the helo’s blades, your body trembling with midair turbulence. Simon fucks you on his fingers, tongue lathing over your clit, mouth fucking worshiping you. He takes you to that precipice, the long fall, the drop through cloud cover to a faintly-marked point on the earth.

The step off the edge feels like perfect, natural progression.

Your orgasm sweeps through you from toe to tip, a roll of white-out pleasure shaking you, wringing a cry out of your mouth that makes Simon fuck you harder. His fingers don’t let up, working you through the tidal wave, taking you to shore on the other side.

You’re boneless at the end, slumping back on the pillow and panting, shivering, taking stock of your limbs and extremities as they each come back online after the outage. You only vaguely register the feeling of Simon moving on the bed, coming up to lay beside you.

He murmurs your name, then kisses you, and you can smell and taste yourself on him. Your hand goes up to run along his jawline, one rogue thought telling you, yeah, you can cut glass with it.

How everything gets so gentle afterwards is beyond you. Simon’s hand is on your face, thumb brushing the soft skin under your right eye. You can feel his erection against your leg, and somewhere in the back of your mind—still tingling with pleasure, shimmering bright and brilliant—you know how you’re going to take initiative.

You break the kiss just for a moment, delighting in the soft sigh of protest you hear and feel against your cheek. Then you lean in close, pitching your voice low like his, hoping it has the same effect on him.

“Hope you don’t have any plans this weekend,” you say, brushing your hand over his shoulder.

You feel him smile against your skin, and he shakes his head.

“Thought you were heading out,” he says.

“Only if you’re going with me.”

One arm goes around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles against your neck. “We have some time, though, right?” his voice slides over you, suggestion clear and presented like a gift.

God, yeah you do.

---

Somewhere in between rounds, your phone goes off on your bedside stand.

Once.

Twice.

You don’t hear it, and the short buzz is drowned out by moans and the soft slap of skin on skin. When Simon makes a move like he’s going to check on it, you hook him back in place with your leg around his waist, pulling him in close, then kissing him silent. He falls into it, all too happy to oblige.

So you miss the skull and ladybug emojis, then the volume symbol.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #em dash and italics party is here to staaaay #can you believe this was going to be longer #am i super happy with it? not totally but it was p fun

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lv-iceprince · 2 years

Text

ladybird ~ part i

~series masterlist~

pairing~ badboy! choi yeonjun x fem!childhood friend! reader

genre~ (s) (a) (au) (f)

featuring~ sickeningly soft yeonjun, crime, a dramatic & emotional yeonjun, protective bf vibes, yeonjun & y/n don’t know shit about love and romance, tfw when he’s a badboy but a baby for y/n, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight dumbification, accidental creampie, porn with hella plot, use of a sex toy, wet dreams, angsty angsty emotions and actions and body worship (recieving) .

synopsis~ you were the safety pin that kept his life from falling apart at the seams, so it was only natural that yeonjun felt his heart growing every time you graced him with your presence. but it was wrong, there was no way he was going to corrupt his innocent friend, yet his mind thought otherwise. his lewd dreams were never supposed to see the light of day yet here he was hovering above you, fearing the day you would leave his arms for good...

or the one where a wish on a ladybug and a dream changes the life of a boy with an affinity for band-aids and strawberry lollipops.

word count~ 11.4k

playlists~ 🐞 💗

a/n~ thank you @fallinforgyu for inspiring me enough to leave a six year long writers block because of your beautiful series cherry. now my amazing bunny, this is crazy because ladybird would never have existed if it wasn’t for your kindness and amazing way with words and i am truly grateful. (p.s. its me vampirateking! new blog new me).

now this fic and the lo$er’s in love universe was a year in the making but i personally feel like it was worth it. there’s a lot in store for this series so make yourself comfortable, grab a snack or a drink and lets get this show on the road.

and in terms of the fic yeonjun’s dreams are in italics until the ending scene. the main smut scene will be in italics but it isn’t a dream and the song playing in the car is dream lover by the vaccines

You were definitely going to get him back for this.

“College is overrated as hell.”

“You were actually going to leave me y/n? Shame on you!”

“Fine, whatever...Oh where am I going? To see my new best friend Beomgyu.”

So, what did you do? You rejected your college acceptance letter, just so you could stand in the kitchen of a sticky, heat-drenched diner and witness the one man concert your best friend was putting on.

To say your parents were disappointed would be a massive understatement, you had a lot going for you, or so they said. Sure, you were class valedictorian a few years in a row but at the end of the day that didn’t mean shit to you. You were set up for success, but that success was just another bragging right that your parents held above the heads of their associates.

It took Yeonjun a total of ten minutes to convince you to stay, and though you feigned reluctance you weren’t actually planning to leave. You could have made the decision to cut him off so he wouldn’t have to rant for the next hour, but he looked so cute. The way his forehead creased and the way he bit his lip as he tried to come up with another reason why you should stay with him was so heart-warming, so you let him continue his one-sided debate.

Sentimentalities aside it’s times like this when you questioned your decision, college was starting to look like the better option. At least Yeonjun was enjoying himself, gripping onto the spatula he swivelled his hips to the music pouring through the radio.

“I told you I’d change even, when I knew I never could. I know that I can’t find nobody else as good as you.” When those words leave his mouth, he spins into an elegant half turn, topping it off with a wink, the energy he had today was impressive. He just about kicked your bedroom door down this morning, “Ass in the car now! You still work a job you hate and I’m hungry.” He clearly didn’t care about your frustrated groans when he aggressively ripped the curtains back. And like that you were rendered blind. Much to your dismay when you could actually see again you were met with Yeonjun’s face mere centimetres away from your own. He would have been a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such a pain in the ass.

“I take it you’ve got a new girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Got laid?”

“Definitely not.”

You quirked your brow. Choi Yeonjun, the one who openly confessed that he absolutely loathes the single life was passionately performing a song for his loyal cutlery, and he didn’t get laid? Okay.

“Well can you at least enlighten me? It looks like you have enough happiness to go around, the least you could do is share.” Yeonjun paused before grinning, he placed the spatula on the table. “I was going to leave it as a surprise, but since you insisted... Do you have any plans tonight?”

You kind of wish you never asked, even the crappy air con was caught off guard, letting out a few coughs and splutters.

“Come again?” Yeonjun rolled his eyes “You can’t tell me he doesn’t deserve it! He broke your heart and left you stranded, if he could do that to someone like you, he isn’t a good guy. Okay, how about this, I’ll take you home and I’ll do it myself.” He turns away, facing a precarious stack of plates; his lips forming into a guilty pout.

Normally if your childhood friend confesses that he had brought his trusty baseball bat to work and subsequently invited you out to wreck your ex’s car when your shift was over, you should have cut him off with a no and called for an intervention of some sort. Or at least that’s what you assumed. “Normal” was a distant memory. You had abandoned a normal life the day a scrawny boy, who donned only the best thick rimmed glasses, came to your aid after you took a tumble onto the hardwood chips scattered around the playground.

Neither of you can recall what took place or why you were on the ground clutching your bleeding knee, the one thing you both agree on is that he was suave even back then. Out of all the things he could have done the 8-year-old reached for his bag, fishing out a pack of Doraemon bandages and a strawberry lollipop.

At the time you didn’t think to question what he was doing, you just watched him unwrap the lollipop and tap it against your lips, a silent jest for you to say “aah”. As soon as the hard candy was in your mouth, he got to work meticulously patching up your leg while he introduced himself, giving you narration of his life and its dysfunctionality.

Maybe you were biased but there wasn’t much that had changed about the boy, well that isn’t necessarily true. If he were the main character in an over-the-top coming of age movie, he would have dramatically thrown his glasses into the trash, slicked his back his hair, stolen his dad’s leather jacket and called it a day.

Nevertheless, the boy in front of you still held the same look of concern that he wore that day, and he still patched your bruises and scrapes up with his sickeningly sweet band-aids.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and approach the sulking boy. Wrapping your arms around his waist you leaned in close, lazily placing your head on his shoulder, he didn’t have to look you in the eye to sense the stupid grin on your face.

“Wow, you’re really committing to the silent treatment, it’s been what two minutes? You’re breaking my heart Junnie.” His eyes widen when he feels your grip on his waist tighten, he was thankful that you couldn’t see his flustered state. If you had heard the soft gasp he let out you didn’t show it. “Hey, you know I didn’t say no, it sounds like fun!”

Maybe your parents were right, he was definitely a bad influence but what they didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt them.... right?

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

The wind traced patterns in your hair, moments before Yeonjun had any sense to tug you back into your seat. Neither drugs nor alcohol could mimic the feeling you felt, he had a habit of revving his car as if to tease you, something that was confirmed by the cocky look on his face.

The misplaced beats of Yeonjun’s favourite song added to the dreamlike state you were in. The lyrics were a blurred frenzy to you but in his case each word was nipping at his sanity.

Seeing you like that, a picture of perfection, brought back the feelings of guilt he felt at the diner. It wasn’t a complete lie, he was pretty stoked to be wrecking Changkyun’s car, however, he decided to omit the main source of his excitement. There were things that he just couldn’t tell you, no matter how much he wanted to let loose and spill the beans.

Sure, his own breakup had affected him, for the first time in his life he actually thought it would work out, but it didn’t. Normally he would have been out looking for a one-night stand within a day, that didn’t happen. Reality hit him hard leaving him inconsolable for weeks. While Beomgyu and the other boys refused to go near him, you were sneaking out of your window and spending the night at his house. That was when things had changed for him.

You had both passed out on his bed after some intense mutual venting, he was certain that he had only ever viewed you in a platonic light. However, his dream said otherwise.

“Jun, wake up, you’re having a nightmare”. Your warm voice coaxed his eyes to flutter open, he squinted in confusion, immediately realising what had happened. Shame engulfed him when he noticed the damp patch in his boxer briefs.

“Sorry”.

To this day he still didn’t know whether he was apologising for startling you or on behalf of his lewd dream, in that moment all he could do was swallow the lump that formed in his throat. He prayed to God that the entire situation was a once off, it wasn’t.

It was always the same dream, the one where he would wrap an arm around you while he gently coaxes you to lie down on your plush pink bedsheets. Hovering above you he would lean in and kiss you like his life depended on it. His fingers would trace your leg while he broke the connection. The moan you let out was music to his ears and your fingertips felt like silk when you reached for his arm. His needy baby was always so good to him, so he thought he would return the favour. “Ssh, I’ll make you feel good” each night you respond with the same three words, “I trust you”.

“I trust you.” Yeonjun’s eyes widen “H-huh?” His startled expression was met with your light smile “I was just saying, I trust you to not get us arrested. I know you’ll protect me; you’d be the worst friend ever if you didn’t.” “I will baby, when have I ever let you down?” the sly wink he gave you was pure ecstasy.

Not many people could say that they had such a loving relationship with someone like Yeonjun, in your junior years of high school you had actually begged him to be your first kiss. He denied your advances and majorly cock-blocked you from himself, despite that you still chose friendship over not having him.

Still reeling from the wink, you failed to notice the car come to a shuddering stop, within seconds Yeonjun was out of the car skipping towards the back seat. Exiting, you stopped to lean against the side of the car watching him reach for his trusty baseball bat.

If his arched back wasn’t provocative enough you just had to notice his work uniform riding up ever so slightly, exposing his lower stomach. You did your best to overt your eyes but it was a too late, even if he didn’t see your gaze, he definitely felt it. He wiggled his hips before exiting the car with the bat “Do you like what you see y/n? I’ve been working the pole just for you.”

“You know it doesn’t count as working the pole for me if you never invite me to your shows, inviting my mum and not me? that’s a low blow Yeonjun.” “I’ll invite you if you give me a low blow...” “Shut up.” Turning away in mock frustration you walk off in the direction of Changkyun’s house while Yeonjun trailed behind you.

Yeonjun was the only one who could make something illegal look so charming, he kept up the skip in his step, occasionally swinging his bat. He knew this neighbourhood like the back of his hand, he had lost count of the number of times he had dropped you off at Changkyun’s house.

The day Yeonjun had gotten his license he was officially the designated driver of his entire friend group, which consisted of you, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai. He knew that the majority of you were just too lazy to drive yourselves anywhere, but he never questioned it. Despite Beomgyu spilling nearly every food and soda known to man in his car Yeonjun was still taking him on 1am convenience store food runs.

Some time had passed and Yeonjun had begun walking backwards up the sidewalk, his foxy eyes sparkling underneath the streetlights.

There is a shift in mood when Yeonjun spots the Lexus that he had come to actively despise. In the blink of an eye your best friend approaches it with a cocky saunter, he takes a moment to run his hand through his pink locks before striking the front of the car.

Somehow, even after the loud thud, the unassuming neighbourhood maintained its ignorance. And Yeonjun was just getting started. He is relentless, part of you feels like he has completely forgotten that he had brought you along. Whenever you got a glimpse of his eyes you could see anger, hurt, and an emotion you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Panting, he struck one of the rear-view mirrors watching as the glass fell near his feet. You had considered grabbing the bat from his hand and ordering him to stop but there was also another part of you that wanted to rip the bat from him and gain closure by landing a swing or two of your own. You swore the thought had only crossed your mind for a few seconds at most, nevertheless, he turns to you. As if reading your mind, he beckoned you to come closer and placed the bat in your hand. “Your turn! Really stick it to that asshole.” Noticing your sudden reluctance Yeonjun chuckled and placed his hands on top of your own.

“You’ve got this, forget you suck at baseball and follow my lead.” Placing his hands on top of yours he pulled you in so that your back was against his chest. As if he was leading you in a dance the boy swayed with you as you struck the heinous car. The boy let out a surprised laugh, part of him didn’t believe you would actually do it. His grip on your hand tightened, the only difference was that you were leading this time.

In his mind he had every right to be smug about this moment, your boyfriend had fucked up and now he held you in his arms. If he could have had it his way, he would have pulled you in for a messy kiss as Changkyun rounded the corner to find his car totalled and his girl taken.

“You’re doing so well bubs.”

Yeonjun hadn’t even realised that those words had left his mouth, why would he? He had recited them countless times in his hazy dreams.

Your thighs quivered while you tried your hardest to keep going, you were about to reach your third high of the night. Despite him reassuring you that you could stop at any moment you kept going.“Ah...fuck you’re doing so well bubs.” In these moments he is never able to control himself, placing his shaking hands on your hips he flips you over crashing his lips onto yours.

The last swing of the bat, the cherry on top, was all it took for the shrill car alarm to go off. The voyeur in him wanted to get caught just to prove a point, instead he pulled the bat out of your hand while his free hand reached for yours, and like always he ran. Yeonjun had learnt one important thing that night, that you couldn’t run as fast as he could. He was quite literally dragging you along the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but smile despite the ache that was forming in his chest when he forced himself to run faster. There probably wasn’t a need to run that fast but he was truly terrified at the thought of you getting caught. You miraculously knew how to talk yourself out of most situations, that wasn’t the thing that worried him. His main concern was with your parents.

They had made it clear on multiple occasions that they had an underlying issue with him, he was a bad influence they said, that he wasn’t going to achieve anything in life and that he would eventually want y/n in a way that would make any devout Christian clutch at their rosaries. Out of all the things your parents had claimed that was the one thing that had bothered him the most, but not anymore. Turns out that was the one thing they had gotten right.

Yeonjun collided with the car his shaking hands fumbling to open the door, huffing out a nervous laugh. “My god, why did I finally remember to lock my car?!” Yeonjun scrunched up a fist furiously slamming it at the window, as if that would magically unlock his ride.

It’s ironic. Yeonjun had just pulled you half way across the neighbourhood just so you both wouldn’t get caught, yet here he stood struggling to make a grand getaway.

“Yeonjun, Yeonjun, YEONJUN… sweetie just check your pockets, we need to go like, right this minute.” The word ‘sweetie’ dripping in the best kind of sarcasm.

In silent agreeance he leans the bat against the car, placing his hand in one of his pant pockets. Score.

He looks up at you with a dumb grin, dangling the keys in his hand

“Found them! What would I do without you?”

“I know, I know, now hurry up! Unlike you I don’t get hard disobeying the law.”

Yeonjun clicks the remote and pretty much dives into the car, pulling the bat in he brings a hand up stopping it from jabbing you in the head. Though every part of him wanted to reverse the car and trailblaze into the horizon he couldn’t pull his gaze from you. Your hair was plastered onto your forehead and your cheeks were tinged with a faint red; this wasn’t the first time he had seen you so dishevelled but he was always shocked at how good you looked. Lacking any self-restraint Yeonjun reached a hand out and brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes.

You shoot him a ‘What now?’ look, Yeonjun smiled poking your nose “Hmphh.” Everything he felt was laced into that one sound. “I can’t believe you just did that; I mean I know your birthday is in a couple weeks but wow you really are growing up.” You reached across and slapped his arm “Ow! I meant that as a compliment.” For some reason you were slightly sceptical that he wasn’t going to make a joke at your expense. “I’m serious! You were so cool y/n, dude is going to be shaking in his Birkenstocks or whatever guys like him wear.”

Yeonjun turned the key bringing his car to life once again. “Hey I forgot; we’re going to buy a little birthday gift for my best girl tomorrow.” “Really?! Wait who is helping you choose out a gift. No offense but I wasn’t really too keen on what Taehyun bought me last year.” You let out a devious laugh remembering your initial reaction when you had unwrapped the neatly wrapped present, you couldn’t help the look of utter disappointment that worked its way onto your face. You seriously respected Taehyun’s love of practical gifts but you probably weren’t ever going to use “the world’s smallest vacuum cleaner”, even if Taehyun insisted that your desk would thank him.

Yeonjun broke into a loud fit of laughter when he remembered the whole event that had transpired. “Maybe this year he’ll actually buy you a sex toy.”

“Dude stop! How was I supposed to know it was a freaking vacuum cleaner, he literally said it sucked, would bring me pleasure, make my life easier, relieve me of my stresses and would be my ‘perfect little friend’. You said it yourself! He was basically marketing a sex toy!” “No way I think that says more about you than Taehyun’s taste in gifts. But that’s beside the point “we” is us! You’re coming along for the ride.”

He seemed so sure of his proposal, a stark contrast to your deadpan reaction. “Oh yay, sounds like fun.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes, kind of concerning since he was just about to round a corner. “Quit being so pessimistic, it’s not like you’re gonna die out of boredom or anything.” Yeonjun went quiet for some time, only taking the opportunity to speak, when he pulled up at a red traffic light. “Please!”

Even though you failed to answer him Yeonjun wore the prettiest smile you had ever seen for the remainder of the car ride, all of his anxious thoughts remained with the wrecked car.

“Dude you can park in the driveway you know that right?” “And face your parents? No thanks.” You frowned “Come on Yeonjun! Just drop me at the door please!” “I’m sorry needy child, it’s a hard pass.” Though you were thoroughly disappointed Yeonjun’s gaze said enough, he wasn’t serious.You pouted at him “Yeonjunnie stop being salty” Yeonjun continued to look at you, still not answering. “Fine you win, I’ll tag along if you walk me to the front door.” Yeonjun smiled, exiting the car. Patting his work uniform down he held his hand out, eagerly awaiting yours.

“Well, I guess we should leave it here, see you tomorrow?” He tilted his head flashing you a dreamy look, one that you swear he only ever gave to the girls he brought back to his bed. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” A chill made its way up your spine, you tried to convince yourself that it was thanks to the slight chill in the air, not him whipping out a cigarette just to let it hang loosely between his plush lips. “Goodnight bubs.” Your eyes widened in confusion “You aren’t coming in?” It was such a small thing, but you had come to expect Yeonjun literally walking you to your room, the only thing he drew a line at was tucking you in. “Not tonight bubs, I... I have somewhere I need to be.” It wasn’t as if this was news to you, Yeonjun had a... colourful... track record, one where he never failed to cut the night short so he could hook up with some lucky guy or girl. “Oh okay, I guess I’ll see you around then”. Yeonjun gave nothing more than a nod in agreeance before he turned on his heels and walked away.

You tried to ignore the slight pang in your heart, you told yourself that it didn’t matter whether he had another fling or not, but you would be lying if you said the idea hadn’t bothered you. You heart felt bitter at the idea of him holding someone close, sighing you graciously flopped onto your plush pink sheets. “I think it’s my room.” you murmured to yourself scanning the pink and cream décor. “Definitely friend-zoned material.” You’re jolted out of your depressed stupor by a knock at the window, you stopped yourself from letting out a startled yelp when you caught a glimpse of his pink hair. The fact that you didn’t hear him climb up to your bedroom on the second floor was honestly impressive.

You ripped the curtains open startling the boy, he signalled for you to open your window. You slid the window open “What do you want now?” You couldn’t hide the slight irritation in your voice. “Come on don’t be like that, you forgot your smile.” His words weren’t amusing “Okay I’ll stop, but you forgot your wallet.” Yeonjun tilts his head to the side, ensuring that the smoke from his now lit cigarette wouldn’t assault your senses. He reached into his pockets fishing out your wallet passing it to you “Oh, I forgot. Close your eyes.” You closed your eyes with a huff.

Yeonjun reached for your free hand, lovingly tracing patterns before sliding on a candy bracelet “You can open your eyes.” You smiled down at the hard candy “What’s this for?” “Just wanted to make sure you were joining me tomorrow. See you around y/n.” With that Yeonjun departed, as soon as his feet had met the ground, he turned to look you up and down once more before walking off into the evening sun.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Yeonjun shoved a glob of fries and soft serve into his mouth. “So, I was thinking of going to that one mall with the tree growing in the plaza. I saw something a couple of weeks back, made me think of you, fingers crossed it’s still there.”

“Really? That’s awesome but you really don’t need to” It wasn’t that you thought he couldn’t afford to peruse that side of town, he probably could if he put his mind to it, but the Berrymont Mall always came across as being the rich persons paradise, you couldn’t even afford to go there yourself. “Um of course I need to, I promised it would be special this year.” Yeonjun stood with a stretch allowing his cropped sweater ride up.

You rolled your eyes at the little show he was putting on for the worker manning the register. “You can’t be serious” “I saw the extra swirl they gave me; I’m thanking them.” You shoved the last nugget into your mouth “Come on let’s go lover boy, I want that gift.” Yeonjun smiles at the lucky soul before following after you. “Y/n you do realise that I’m not giving it to you today.” He smirked at his own innuendo. “We were both done eating, I wanted to leave.”

Yeonjun swore he saw a smidge of jealousy, but he still didn’t want to believe it. You had handled your breakup so maturely, yeah you cried into his shoulder, venting about your heart being torn to pieces but besides that you seemed to move on with your life. If you were even mildly attracted to someone you didn’t show it, well maybe you did stare into his eyes more than usual or trace his fingers with yours but in his mind it all boiled down to his own wishful thinking.

He couldn’t tell whether he had upset you but you hadn’t shown any sign of slowing down, leaving him trailing behind in the distance. “Hey y/n! I’m just checking my account!” Yeonjun ran to the ATM that stood off to the side, huffing at the sight before him.

-$5.36.

Okay so maybe he wasn’t as wealthy as he had led you to believe, he clicked his tongue out of frustration and placed his hands on his hips. He could hear you approaching so he quickly cancelled out of everything and turned around to greet you. “Are you okay?” “Pfft yeah, I’m totally fine, just don’t want you seeing how much I have, I’m not ready to be your sugar daddy bubs. Now let’s go, got to beat the rush.”

The walk to the jewellery store was silent as Yeonjun mentally hyped himself up for the crime he was about to commit. There was no way he would miss out on getting something that he deemed as valuable as yourself. “Did you want me to come in or?” Such a simple question made him panic. “No! I mean, I’d love that, but it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you followed me around the whole day. Just relax, I’ll be fifteen minutes tops.”

He wasn’t about to wait for your answer, there is no way he wanted you to witness what he was about to do. Upon entering the store Yeonjun brushed his elbow against a round bear plushie sending it tumbling to the smooth tiles. Acting the part of an innocent bystander he reached for the plushie giving it a once over ‘Cute, Kai would love this’ with that thought he resumed his nice guy act, giving a smooth charming smile he returned it to the shelf. “And I’ll be back for you later.”

Yeonjun wasted no time pushing past the crowd giving the cashier a fright as he placed his hands on the glass counter with a loud thud. “Can I help you?” “Uh sure, I’d like to buy that bracelet please.” Yeonjun pointed towards the most dazzling tennis bracelet he had ever seen, if you didn’t accept it from him, he would definitely be able to find a use for it.

Yeonjun leaned against the counter, trying to lure the cashier in with a coy smile. “I bet it’s prettier in person” not letting his gaze falter he watched as the woman unlocked the glass cabinet. He decided to keep the conversation going to avoid suspicion “I’m surprised it’s still here; When I spotted this beauty, I knew it would be perfect for my girl.” He was too distracted by the shimmering bracelet to realise how easily the words had slipped out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t mind if I had a closer look, would you?”

Honestly, Yeonjun hadn’t expected her to cave this quickly. “It's her birthday in a couple of days so I thought I would treat her to a little something, I don’t know how to describe it but her smile is probably the cutest thing in the world, cuter than those plushies back there. Wish you could see it; I should invite you to her party.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at her bored expression.

Her expression transformed into shock as Yeonjun clasped the bracelet in his hand, turned on his heels and to ran out of the store. When he made it to the door, he tore one of the bears off of the shelf, unbothered by the rest of them being knocked to the ground.

He found you, leaning against the door, you hadn’t even registered what he was doing. Tucking the awkwardly shaped plushie under his arm and ran off in the direction of the nearest exit. You were his best friend for a reason, so without asking questions you ran after him, surprising yourself at how you managed to catch up with him this time. Yeonjun waited for you to dive into the passenger seat before bringing his car to life.

You hadn’t even managed to buckle up and Yeonjun had swerved out onto the road, already driving as if he was trying to lose somebody. You considered asking him, respectfully of course, what the fuck was going on. But before you could question him Yeonjun pulled over to the side, smiling as he replayed the event in his head, he felt so cool.

“Sorry for leaving you behind, I nearly dropped the bear, can you imagine? I would have looked so stupid.” It was the cockiest thing you had ever heard but the sheepish grin that followed was contagious. His happiness was shortlived.

Spotting the flashing red and blue lights Yeonjun turned off the interior light and reclined his seat, gesturing for you to do the same. You responded by reclining your seat, the overload of energy coursing through you made your hands shake. Those hands were borderline offensive, he wanted to grip your hand and comfort you but for some reason his nerves got the better of him. Yeonjun turned on his side making eye contact with you, it took a mere few seconds for the police car to speed past, yet the tension in the air was thick. You shuffled closer to Yeonjun, noticing how eager you were he closed his eyes and leaned in, his heart viciously thumping against his chest.

“Yeonjun... What are you doing?”

He had hoped that when he opened his eyes he would be met with your lips, but that wasn’t the case, instead he was met with the realisation that he was definitely jumping the gun. He cleared his throat and sat up, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a good excuse.

“All of that for a plushie?” Yeonjun’s guilty smile fell, it would have been better if you just straight up called him out for his attempted kiss. “What no that’s not for you, that’s for Kai. Your gift is here” He points towards his crotch causing you to furrow your brows in frustration. “Can’t you be serious for one goddamn minute?! You never- “He lifted his leg pulling out the bracelet. “This is yours.” He dangled it in your face and placed it on your lap.

“I don’t want it.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be like that.”

“Wrecking his car was one a once off Yeonjun, I told you how I feel about you doing things like this. I want to return it.” Yeonjun bit his tongue, trying his hardest to keep composed. He was cursed with a hot temper but he always kept his composure around you. “There’s no way in hell that I’m going back there, if you don’t want it, I’ll keep it.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No y/n you’re the one missing the damn point! How could you be so fucking mad at me when I literally did this for you!”

“Well, I didn’t ask for you to do that, seriously what were you thinking Yeonjun?!”

“Whatever.”

“No, I’m actually curious, what made you think this was what I wanted?”

“I’m not doing this, I’m done talking.”

Yeonjun swings the door open and takes a step into the frosty late afternoon breeze, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. He turns away from the car, his hand raking through his styled pink hair. You can barely hear the words that are spoken, before he kicks the hood of the car. Every single emotion he was feeling deeply etched onto his face. He was always bark and no bite, at least that’s what he was told, and it was true. There was no way he would even think of hurting you; in the time you had known him he had never once raised his voice and he wanted to keep it that way.

Suffering from instant regret he inspected the vague dent in the hood, his car wasn’t anything awesome, merely a crappy hand-me-down from his dad. Regardless he didn’t want it bent out of shape, his fingers were centimetres away from the bruised-up metal when something caught his eye. A small red dot, a ladybug perched on the hood above where his shoe had been seconds ago. He swiped his hand, encouraging it to take flight and ultimately leave him the hell alone.

But you were his insufferable friend who held his heart in the palm of her hand, you saw right through his act, exiting the car and pulling him into a tight hug. Which made him crumble “I’m sorry y/n, life is just really fucking stupid for me right now.” He stooped his head low letting it fall into the crook of your neck.

When Yeonjun’s tears had eventually died down you pulled away from him, he looked at you, his sweet fox eyes now resembling that of a lost puppy. He watched you as you walked over to the car and fished out a lollipop. Removing the wrapper you shoved the lollipop into his mouth, his pout becoming a thing of the past. It was then that he noticed the same little red dot that he had tried so hard to be rid of, but this time it had found an even better place to relax. Instead of shooing it away Yeonjun cups his hand gently retrieving it from your hair and presenting it to you, and for a split second, behind those gleaming eyes you swore you could see the young Doraemon fanatic in the flesh. “If you don’t want the bracelet, at least accept this wish.” Even if he was still recovering from his outburst, he still managed to draw out twin giggles from the both of you.

Clasping his hands in yours you encouraged him to unfold them, both of you tried to move your attention down to the ladybug, you found it difficult to overt your gaze. There was something there, his heart was screaming out a confession of love, but it never met the light of day. Even after the little wish took flight you were still caught up in his eyes.

“What did you wish for?”

“Like I’d ever tell you Yeonjun...what did you wish for?”

Maybe expecting a genuine answer from him was the setting the bar too high “I wished that you would have an amazing day tomorrow, how does that sound? Is that the right answer?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

None of them were prepared for the Yeonjun that waltzed into Beomgyu’s house that night, they weren’t even expecting him to show. Beomgyu had gotten used to his friend cancelling on him at the last minute, even when it was blatantly obvious that Yeonjun was pulling every excuse out of his ass in an attempt to not leave his bed. Despite this Beomgyu let Yeonjun get off scot-free, since he really wasn’t one to speak. Even if he did have the energy of a chihuahua that downed a couple of Red Bulls he was also the king of shirking responsibility at the last minute, so he let Yeonjun, his personal jester parading around as a badass, do whatever.

“YAH! Popcorn doesn’t take ten minutes!”

Beomgyu sighed at the lack of response, brushing his arms against the smooth linoleum. Winning the game of rock, paper, scissors gave him the perfect excuse to lie upside down and shout orders.

The only reason he was still hosting movie nights was to annoy his younger friends, and while Taehyun barely reacted Beomgyu knew Kai would play along. Beomgyu started the imaginary timer, keeping in mind how long it took for Kai to respond.

‘Six, seven, eight-’

“I told you to choose a movie!” “Fine!”

Unfurling his body Beomgyu reached for Kai’s dvd case, the tattered smile of Mickey Mouse greeting him on the cover. With everything that had happened in the last year, it was comforting to see that Kai was still lugging it along to every movie night. Though it was none of his business, he couldn’t help but wonder if that dvd case was the reason behind Kai and his bitchlessness. Flipping through it he ignored each movie that revolved around boyhood and romance, which was half the case. Kai was always so soft, it was sickening. Beomgyu had no idea when he started getting so sentimental, but now everything reminded him of the happier days, when they were together. Pushing back that seasonal depression he reached for Toy Story, slotting it into the dvd player his ears pricked up when he heard a car engine.

Peering through the window he recognised the familiar license plates and ran into the kitchen to find Taehyun and Kai placing their big macs and fries onto a large tray.

They weren’t shit friends, quite the opposite actually; they had been on standby for Yeonjun most of this breakup, but even they had their limits. You hadn’t experienced dramatic until Yeonjun was the one being dramatic. They were so thankful that y/n had taken over for them so that they could have some alone time, and yeah, they had been texting him, but technically they hadn’t seen him since his last wave of post-breakup depression.

“Remember if he cries it’s Taehyun’s turn to comfort him.” And with that Beomgyu ran to the door to greet his best friend. Much to his surprise Yeonjun greeted him with a lovesick smile, clutching a plushie to his chest.

“Sorry I’m late, I was caught up in y/n’s eyes” was what he wanted to say but instead he went with a simple “Hey, thought I’d come over.” Beomgyu, still disturbed by the sight before him silently moved to the side waiting for Yeonjun to come inside.

Taehyun and Kai had since made their return to the living room clutching a bowl of popcorn and the tray of food. “Yeonjun!” Luckily Yeonjun was too far into his own fantasy to notice how nervous Kai was. With a wink he tossed the bear to Kai, not even reacting to Kai’s loud shriek as he scrambled to place the tray down in time to catch the bear.

Plopping down next to Beomgyu Yeonjun pokes his cheek with a grin. Somehow this felt even more draining than him crying.

“Hope you’re not hungry, we didn’t buy an extra burger.”

“It’s okay he ate.”

As if on cue all of the boys looked at Taehyun, who was currently slipping some fries into his burger bun. “I saw them when I bought our food.” “Well, shit, I didn’t see you there.” Beomgyu grinned, “Didn’t think y/n was that much of a distraction.” “Shut up, it’s just birthday stuff. Anyway’s it’s pretty much sorted, the party is at her place, show up whenever after six but definitely before eight.”

“Cool, that’s plenty of time for me to meet Soobin.”

The words seemed so casual, regardless, Yeonjun’s ears pricked when he heard that name.

“I didn’t know Soobin was in town.”

“He isn’t. He arrives tomorrow. I promised to meet him.” Yeonjun had always experienced a complex array of emotions whenever it came to the topic of Soobin, it wasn’t like he hated him, Soobin was his friend after all. It was more the fact that the wider public seemed to favour y/n and Soobin rather than Yeonjun and y/n.

When you and Soobin were cast as Mary and Joseph Yeonjun could only sulk as he played the important role of the guy who owned the barn. Even back then he couldn’t help but detest the idea of you two being together, if he could have kicked Soobin out of the barn in a fit of fourth grade rage he would have.

Despite his jealousy Yeonjun couldn’t recall a moment where he treated you like anything other than his best friend. There was no logic in being mad at Soobin for being your date to the graduation formal, Soobin was just repaying the favour after all. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that you and Soobin won cutest couple while he was preparing himself to mourn a relationship that was nearing its end. Despite the degree of self-realisation, he possessed he was still mad. “But he said he couldn’t make it, we were all okay with him not showing I don’t get why he bothered.” The others exchanged silent glances, they knew he had some issue with Soobin lately, but they never thought they would hear those words come from Yeonjun. It was hard to even see where he was coming from lately, after that week of you sleeping at his house Yeonjun had changed drastically.

After thinking it through Beomgyu was finally brave enough to combat Yeonjun’s harsh words. “That’s not your choice to make, y/n said she wanted him here. It was her wish. I don’t know what else to say.” “Wishes don’t always come true!”

“Look I just wanted to watch Toy Story, so you can just go away or be quiet.” Beomgyu pressed play, exhaling when the fluffy white clouds of Andy’s room came into shot. Yeonjun stirred, crossing his arms as he glared at the screen. “It actually is my choice, I’m the one organising the party not him.” Beomgyu paused the movie, clenching both his jaw and the remote. “Stop! Whats the deal? Y/n never asked you to be her gatekeeper, just give it a break.” Before Yeonjun could respond Beomgyu continued his small outburst “You can care for her but give it up, you can dream about having her but she isn’t yours.”

Yeonjun stilled, in his mind the whole room held its breath with him. “Fucking hell, I didn’t think she noticed.” Even if he was confused, Beomgyu used that to his advantage going with the conversation. “She noticed.” Yeonjun placed his head in his hands, freaking out the entire time. “She knows it was an accident, right? It was just a weird time for me, I promise I’m not a creep.” Beomgyu assumed he would be getting an explanation but somehow it took a very confusing turn. “Yeonjun... What did you do?” “Don’t rub it in we all know about the wet dream.” Beomgyu cleared his throat before murmuring under his breath “I didn’t know about the wet dream.”

The realisation had set in “You- oh shit.” Yeonjun paled, so much for keeping it a secret. “Look I wouldn’t take it seriously; it happens to everyone.” Beomgyu grinned “I don’t think I’ve ever had a wet dream about you so I have to call bullshit on that.” Yeonjun caved “Look I felt like shit when I fell asleep, and she was too close, her legs and those shorts.” After his rant Yeonjun looked Beomgyu dead in the eyes “I swear to god if you tell her.” “Why are you targetting me?! What about Taehyun and Kai, they’re here too.”

Honestly, Yeonjun forgot that his other friends were still present. Neither of them had spoken a word since he started his back and forth with Beomgyu. Kai was preoccupied with his bear and Taehyun really didn’t care. “Why should I worry about them when you’re the one with the motor mouth.” “This mouth is zipped, don’t worry about it.” It was slightly concerning how casual Beomgyu was about the entire thing, but now that was off of his chest maybe he was confident that he would be rid of his silly little dreams. Surely.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

If he didn’t insist that you needed gifts from him you would have just settled for this. The bag of gifts he bought sat to the side, unopened, your focus on the empty space in the middle of your room. There was a delay before the rock music leaked through the speakers and Yeonjun slid in. His studded red jacket and slicked back hair sparkling in the morning sun that leaked through your window.

It was no secret that you had been spending more time with him, as a result you discovered that he really was a performer. His dreams and aspirations were nothing new, in his youth all he spoke about was getting attention for his good looks and charisma. But in a town like this, if you didn’t leave you, were a nobody. And sometimes that hurt you, Soobin was able to achieve great things and that was, well, great but that was because he left. For some reason Yeonjun chose to stay, kissing his dreams goodbye and you just wished he had more.

You would never know this but he felt he had it all when he was performing for you. No audience would ever make him feel this way.

Your gaze didn’t leave his body as it rolled in time with the sultry lyrics.

You red leather rocket, you little foxy queen Everybody's watching, pretty little thing Baby, tell me, what's your fantasy?

It took every bit of strength to not look away from his steely gaze as he swiped his jacket off of his shoulders playing it like a guitar. Your friend was a fiend and you loved it.

His chest was heaving at the end of the routine, his “sexy” stare was broken by a wide grin. He plopped down next to you, taking time to catch his breath before he spoke. “I would ask you what you thought, but going by your face I’d say that was a good birthday present.” I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly trying to hide just how flustered you were. “That reminds me, I think you should open these.” Using his foot to nudge the bag he brought it closer picking it up and placing it between the two of you. “You seem even more excited than I am.” “Enough talking, open.” Yeonjun pushed the bag closer to you. Swivelling yourself around you emptied the bag.

You were surprised, no shocked was a better word. They were beautiful gifts, a music box that doubled as a jewellery box, a cloud lamp, the bracelet...that he stole. But the small pink bullet vibrator rendered you speechless.

“This, no, Yeonjun what the hell?!” Yeonjun broke into a fit of laughter at your reaction “I know, I’m sorry it was too tempting, you were so disappointed by Tae’s gift last year. “Well, haha, funny, now take it back, it’s weird if I keep this.” “First the bracelet now this, accept my love you dummy!” Apparently, this was all just a huge joke to him, which was proved by him snatching the gift from you. “Fine if you don’t want it, I’ll have it. But let me charge it I might want to use it later.” Wiggling his brows Yeonjun crawled across to your bedside table plugging the charger into the socket before slipping the vibrator under your pillow.

The rest of the day was quite uneventful, the vibrator disappeared into the background, nothing more than a faint afterthought. Despite the simplicity of the entire day, everything he did filled your heart an ounce at a time. Especially when he got all domestic, switching to the mature one who meticulously organised a party you would no doubt remember for the rest of your life.

You knew he had it in him, that maternal side that kept everyone in check. His long pink hair was brushed back into a messy ponytail, as he stood with his hands on his hips trying to remember where he should put the last of the balloons. He looked like somebody’s aunt, pretty. You tried to avoid making eye contact with him, hating the butterflies that erupted in your heart. Spending more time with him was a blessing and a curse. Your school-girl crush on him only grew, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t pursue someone after Changkyun. Both of you were broken at the same time, and maybe Yeonjun was comfortable moving on but you weren’t ready despite your internal lusting.

Yeonjun noticed the silence, but judging by your face he didn’t want to push it. So, he opted for catching your attention through the fish tank. While you were peering into the tank after feeding them Yeonjun feigned checking the time before crouching down to meet your eyes. Nearly losing balance he steadied himself before motioning for you to smile.

The ringing of the doorbell startled the two of you, while you sprung to your feet to meet your guests while he let himself topple to the ground. His heart dropped at the squeal of excitement you let out, followed by the familiar voice of Soobin.

Yeonjun couldn’t prevent the dry smile that graced his features, in the time spent with you, in a magical world full of domestic interactions he forgot that Soobin would be here. Straightening his shirt he removed the hair tie, patting his pink locks down. He didn’t bother to greet the others, instead he plopped over onto the couch placing a cigarette between his lips, he was going to need it.

The smoking wasn’t the issue, it was the glaring silence. Shortly after the guys arrived the rest of your friends poured in, despite the music and the overlapping conversations Yeonjun refused to acknowledge Soobin. He had barely left the couch, getting another drink seemed to be the only exception. Luckily Beomgyu had lured you away with the promise of finally giving you his gift, leaving the two alone.

“Yeonjun?”

“Soobin?”

“It’s good to see you.” It was always the same, Soobin may have dyed his cotton candy blue hair black, but his endearing nature was still the same. Yeonjun on the other hand clung onto his pink hair, still refusing to give Soobin a chance.

“I actually didn’t think you’d come back; I saw your texts and assumed you had everything you wanted.” That jab didn’t go unnoticed by the other, but Soobin was hardly stupid. Not wanting to play into Yeonjun’s pettiness he smiled carrying the conversation further. “Not everything, is it weird that I miss your chaos? Especially the whole hiding in my house after you pissed off the wrong person. How’s Nali?” Yeonjun’s throat tightened. “You missed a lot, we broke up.” He took a swig of the hitachino and chuckled “But I’m fine, I’m actually seeing someone else.”

For someone who was so skilled at lying Yeonjun had a hard time believing his own words. Soobin was going to question his friend further, but then you and Beomgyu returned, squeezing yourselves into the space between the two. You were completely oblivious to the lie you were currently supporting when you placed your head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you. After you had gotten comfortable Yeonjun tapped your shoulder, once your eyes were on him, he passed you the beer. Taking a couple of sips you passed it back to him, though you thought nothing of the exchange Soobin was shocked. He had always held you in a very innocent light, he never understood how someone so gentle and kind could be so close to someone like Yeonjun. He still thought of you as the innocent friend he left a year ago, he never once thought you would ever date Yeonjun. Yeonjun was oblivious to the awkward glances Soobin directed towards him, too preoccupied by the conversation you were having with him and the food Beomgyu had placed on the table. “Thanks man, appreciate it.” Yeonjun reached out to place a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder both out of love and to push himself forward to grab the food Taehyun had yet to touch. Taehyun blocked the food with his hand, before Yeonjun could start whining Kai passed him his paper plate. Soobin was still confused but he pushed his questions to the side so he could take everything in, it was as if he stepped back in time, to the good old days.

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Yeonjun’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to his room. The darkness a soothing balm on his sore eyes. He couldn’t recall when sleep had overtaken him, or what he had even dreamt about but his heart felt heavy. Rolling onto his side he sat up a yawn ripping through his entirety. He wasn’t hung over, that much he could tell, but the sick feeling in his stomach had yet to leave him. With no thought into his actions, he managed to walk to the bathroom, still stuck in his drowsy state.

Once in front of the mirror he was able to take everything in, starting with his messy pink hair and ending with the light scratches that trailed up his back. It was pretty ironic, he just had to give a dry chuckle. He assumed that the night he would stop having those dreams would be a cause for celebration, that wasn’t the case. Returning to his room he reached for his phone, greeted by a string of missed calls and text messages from you. He wished his mind wasn’t as selective, he forgot when he walked home, he forgot what he took from his dingy refrigerator and he forgot when he fell asleep. All of this was overtaken by a memory, the one where his dream had become a reality.

He was incredibly sober, which at first seemed like a good idea. Being the other half of your parental duo, making sure that no one started shit or overstayed their welcome. The beer he had shared with you was the buzz that you both needed, so he was fully aware of everything, he knew just how hard he was falling for you in this moment. He distracted himself with the thumping music but once that was over and the only music was the buzzing of crickets while you sat on the roof he was doomed.

“You know Yeonjun, I think we did good. No one died, and we’re both sober as fuck.” “You make it sound like a success, to be honest that just sounds depressing.” “Hey! I said you could drink, that’s on you for being an idiot.” “Do you really think you could have handled your guests if I didn’t step in. You’re too soft.” For some reason that struck a nerve with you “Fuck off.” You followed those words with a chuckle, it wasn’t a serious thing but soft wasn’t a thing you necessarily wanted, it just happened. Some days you would wish you were cooler, which ultimately lead you to come to the conclusion that if you were a badass you definitely would have dated Yeonjun years ago. “You say soft, I say shut up.” Yeonjun pulled your arm “Don’t be like that you know I love you.”

The warm lights cast shadows against his cheeks, hiding the faint blush on his cheeks as you leaned close to his face before springing to your feet. A sinking feeling made its way to his stomach at the thought of you slipping, so in a panic he stood, immediately clasping your shoulder in his tight grip. “Are you sure you didn’t steal a couple more bottles?” You glared at him “I’m not drunk! You’re just a bad influence.” “And? You never complained about it before.” “But that’s why I love you, bad boys are where it’s at, though I don’t consider you a bad boy. You’re too cute.”

That made him falter, he knew how platonic that love was but he also couldn’t even determine why you loved him that much. His life was harsh at times, love wasn’t something he was given, hell he wanted his ex to love him and that didn’t work out, so why were you saying such things? “I think the air is getting to your head” The meaning was lost on you which was shown by your cheeky grin; but he was actually irritated with how bubbly you were. It was too cute.

He managed to predict your next move, grasping your wrist before you could poke his cheek. You sighed trying to yank your hand back but he didn’t let up, looking up at him was enough to erase your bratty frown. His dark eyes were hooded as his gaze flickered from your lips to your eyes and back again. Backing out wasn’t an option anymore. Yeonjun brought your hand up to place it on his cheek, a silent cry for you to kiss him like you meant it.

Every fantasy you had about kissing him was a poor comparison to the real thing. He was desperate and needy, something that would have been rough if it wasn’t for his soft lips. You could have kissed him all night but sadly you had to breath, you placed a shaky hand against his chest pushing him off of you. His lips reluctantly left yours, forcing out a soft whine as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth before finally parting. He was about to complain until he felt your hand slip under his tank top “I never knew you were such a little slut.” It was insane weak your legs had become, as far as you were concerned degradation wasn’t your thing, until Yeonjun made it seem pretty. It was completely unlike you to be so passive, but all you wanted, all you needed in this moment was him. With one more tug of his shirt you were being led off of the roof and into your bedroom.

Any sign of a gentle kiss was thrown out the window as soon as you made it inside. He wasted no time crashing his lips against yours. Lust clouded your vision, and every sense for that matter. You hadn’t even noticed him guide you towards your bed until he pushed you onto the plush pink sheets. Yeonjun towered over you with a pleased smirk, in this moment he was far from the gentle guy who fussed over you every single day, he was better. Yeonjun brought his hands up, pinning your wrists above your head. He casually nudged your legs apart before moving in closer, his lips finding their way back to yours.

Eventually his desperation resulted in him rutting his hardened member against your bare thigh, the rough material of his jeans another thing that you didn’t know you needed. “I know you’re the one losing it but you have no idea how worked up I am y/n. I’m so ready for you.” Never in a million years did you think someone would have this much of an effect on you, but it felt natural to be like this with him. You snaked your hand down to rest against his bulge “It’s kind of obvious, but enlighten me…show me how much you want me.”

His already dark eyes gleamed as they got impossibly darker. In his effort to tighten his grip he pushed a silken pillow to the side, accidentally revealing the small pink vibrator in the process. What had once been and afterthought gave Yeonjun a brilliant idea. Unplugging the device he brought it into his palm, showing it off. “Kiss me if I’m wrong but this is the best gift you’ve ever received.” He moved in closer, lifting your skirt and sliding your panties down your legs. You leaned up to kiss his cheek, catching him completely off guard “What? I can’t say it’s the best gift I’ve received.” “By the end of tonight I’m going to prove you wrong bubs, just you wait.” “That’s what I want to hear.”

The only thing his dreams glazed over was the ability you had to tease him to no end. “Yeonjun, please hurry. Just give me anything.” Yeonjun clicked his tongue “So needy, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” The vibrator buzzed to life; the gentle rhythm was far from what you desired until he pressed it to your entrance. You brought a hand up to muffle the whimpers that he worked from you by tracing the tip against your folds. “So, wet, but I haven’t even done anything yet.” “That’s the problem, stop teasing me Jun.”

The beauty of his smart mouth was that you were pleasantly caught off guard when he pushed the device into your soaking wet folds. His repetitive movements never failing to draw some type of reaction out of you. The overwhelming feeling of you being at your wits end was daunting, there was no way you wanted to cum yet, not without him inside of you.

Trembling wrists gripped at his messy pink hair as you fought against the coil that tightened in your stomach. “Y-Yeonjun stop.” The teasing tone wasn’t lost in his voice “It’s okay, let go for me.” Your grip tightened “No, I want you in me.” Yeonjun remained poker faced even when he pulled the vibrator out, pressing it against your clit, making sure to remove it when he felt your thighs quiver around him.

Call it déjà vu, but he knew exactly how this was going to play out.

Throwing the vibrator to the side he hovers above you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His fingers that were tracing your leg the entire time, remain when he breaks the connection. The tiny whine you let out is music to his ears, it’s his turn to let out a low moan after you reach for his arm, fingertips as soft as silk. His needy baby was always so good to him, so he thought he would return the favour. Yeonjun leans down to place feather-light kisses across your neck. Seeing you shiver under his touch was something he never thought he would witness. He doesn’t try to prevent the words that fall from his plush lips “Ssh, I’ll make you feel good.” You didn’t know it but your response was something that he was all too familiar with.

“I trust you.”

Up until then he had shown just how domineering he could be. So, it was odd to see his faint blush as he removed the rest of his clothing. His slender form pressed into yours as you pulled him into you, resting your forehead against his. Any sickening, romantic words you were about to throw at him disappeared as he removed your shirt, kissing down your clavicle. An easy distraction as he unclipped your bra. “How in the world are you prettier than yesterday?” “You’re so cheesy I-” Your own moan interrupted your playful jab, with good reason too. His tongue swirled around your nipple, refraining from any urge he had to gently bite you. He groped your tits giving them as much attention as he could, somehow, he thought he had enough self-restraint to tease you more.

Pulling back Yeonjun swiped at his mouth just to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His raspy words teasing the edge of your ear. “It’s obvious, but God, are you sure you want this y/n? ‘Cause I want it so bad.” He was already drunk on lust, but your words sent him spiralling. “That’s funny, last time I checked I’ve always wanted you.” In one quick movement Yeonjun pushed into you, stuttering a string of curses when you clenched around him. From the moment he entered you he had built up a merciless rhythm, just falling shy of your sweet spot. “Y-Yeonjun” You rolled your hips into him trying to satisfy yourself. “Is this what you want princess?” Yeonjun’s fingers danced on your thigh as he brought one of your legs up, trying to better the angle. He was acting coy, knowing that if he played out exactly what he had in mind you would be cumming soon.

He wanted this moment to be as beautiful as yourself, so he leaned giving you the last kiss of the night. Something heated and though it was rough, it was dripping with passion. While you were caught up in his everything Yeonjun jerked his hips forward finally giving you what you wanted. The strength of him holding you up and his strong thrusts blended together to rip out a scream that you were withholding. You arched your back, gripping onto his, trying your best to have mercy on him but your nails dug into his back leaving a string of red lines, littered with small crescent indents. “I’m close, Yeonjun” You let your head fall back, “Already? But my pretty little whore you’re doing so well.”

Your incoherent words told him all he needed to know “But let go, I want to see how you look when you cum.” His words were the encouragement you needed to completely lose yourself to him. You tilted your head to the side the pulsing deep inside getting more frequent. “Nuh-uh what did I say? Look at me y/n.” Though he was strict he let that caring side shine through once again “I want to see your pretty e/c eyes.” With a gentle touch he softly cupped your jaw and tilted your head up.

Looking into his eyes you let go letting yourself be engulfed by the harsh waves of your climax. Yeonjun never thought of himself as a needy fool but when your walls fluttered around his cock Yeonjun fell apart, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came. In the past he prided himself on having enough control to pull out, but he was willing to accept it tonight.Brushing the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead he pulled out, coming to rest at your side.

After the dual panting had died down Yeonjun rolled onto his side. Placing a hand on your hip. “That was amazing. Sorry for going so rough, I hope it was okay.” Yeonjun interlinked his hand with yours “Happy Birthday y/n.”

The night was supposed to end like that, on cloud nine. But he had gotten ahead of him, the after-sex stupor was amazing, he wanted to live in that feeling. Staying by your side until the next day, but he couldn’t. He cared about you enough to delay leaving until after you had fallen asleep, he wasn’t about to share his post-sex guilt with you, you deserved better. In fact, that’s why he left, as much as he pretended to take it in stride, he didn’t want to be your bad influence. You stayed because of his stupid whining, you were a different person when you were around him.

While tracing your features with his hooded gaze it was apparent that despite his dreams and what he wanted to be his reality, you were never going to work out. So, with a soft kiss to your temple, he wriggled out of your soft grasp, replacing himself with a pillow. His heart sunk lower as he watched you cuddle into it murmuring something that he couldn’t hear. And he left.

Yeonjun’s fingers halted before he could press send, after a brief second of hesitance, he just deleted those pathetic words. Your texts were curious and innocent, asking why he wasn’t there when you woke up, and for once he didn’t have an answer. Turning off his phone he placed it to the side, his slow breathing became rapid has he placed his head in his hands, trying his hardest to prevent guilty tears from falling. But that task was nearly impossible considering he couldn’t quite get that late afternoon out of his mind.

“I wish I could love you.”

“I wish you could be my forever”

“I wish you were mine”

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~in other words please don’t repost or steal my work as i’m a slow writer~