#PLEASE rec me more books along these lines

[ejunkiet]

quick & dirty werewolf romance rec list

Wolfsong & the rest of the Green Creek Series by TJ Klune. Addictive, heart wrenching, fantastic. MM, adult, coming of age gay romances with high drama and romantic tension. If you want to read about werewolves, this is the gold standard. I'm in love with Klune's writing style. LGBTQA+ rep -- book three features an ace romance!!!

Cold Hearted by Heather Guerre (Tooth and Claw #1). @matsuoclan has the BEST book recommendations, oh my god. Grace moves to a remote town in Alaska to escape her past, and finds a new family, and more besides. Explores the themes of loneliness and depression with a supernatural twist, with a sprinkle of enemies to lovers. Love this book, will devour the series >:3

Ruby and the Wolf by Clover Down. @dominimoonbeam remains one of my favourite PNR writers. After putting her life on the line for a stranger, Ruby finds herself on the run from vampires with the wolf she saved. SO STEAMY. SO GOOD.

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. A werewolf falls head over heels for a hunter. SO GOOD. SO FUN. READ IT.

The Lone Wolf's Rejected Mate by Cate C Wells. Another book rec from a moot that I devoured. Wells is a guilty pleasure, and this is my favourite of this series. Deals with trauma, mind the content warnings, Darragh has my heart.

Tumblr recs

@monstersandmaw - Gabe and Odessa, complete, full novel. I cannot tell you how many times I've read this story. It's a comfort read okay. Slow burn. Odessa, lawyer, escaping the city, moves into a small cabin in the woods and meets Gabe, a park ranger, with more to him than it seems. Just a beautiful story.

@snowkissedmonsters - Candy and the wolves. Explores poly dynamics between a wolfpack and the human waitress Candy who is their mate. Gorgeous art to accompany it too!

[lavena]

Since I am so incredibly desperate for tmnt fic recs, here I am supplying mine. All of these i HAVE READ AT LEAST 3 TIMES

pretty much all Mikey centric and jsyk every one I recommended I reread b4 posting this. Sorry If I repeat any, this took me over a week, college is kicking my butt and midterms are next week, kill me. If you have any you red please lmk either in comments or with rb I need the ficss guys please I am desperate.

On AO3

Train-wreck of thought by halogalopagost

A beautiful 2003 tmnt where Mikey is having trouble meditating and gets some tips from his dad and brothers, he struggles with his ADHD, he over comes it and turns out there is a lot more to this meditating than he thought. he intends to use it to his advantage.

The Legend of the Heiwa no Buki by abz_the_turtle

2012 Mikey is pure of heart and turns out that causes some problems for him, his brothers and a certain bother in blue from the future

exhaust trails through space by SpectrumWriting

2012 B team realizes they really need a break, after a fight between Leo and Donnie, B team pull a few favors and go to visit a few planets, look at some extraterrestrial inventions and get to see a festival of food. Each brother learns new things about each other and finally get to take a few deep breaths.

Surface Pressure by TheKeyBladeMaster1994

Mikey watched Encanto and something abut their family feels familiar. Honest to go so good, it is unfinished and only at 3 chapters but it is 32k words and by god if it isnt one of the best books I have read over 5 times already, featuring mikey being a helpful little brother and managing to stress his big brothers out in the proccess.

Pretend That I Never Left by redstingraven (sirimiri)

2003 Mikey gets taken into the Horizon Zero Dawn universe rather than the superpowered turtle universe in the SAINW episode. Positively glorious, he gets bashed and bruised and comes out the other end with an arrow sticking out of him.

All The Small Things by taizi @taizi

2012 Donnie gets deaged and Mikey gets to be a big brother. Positively adorable, Mikey is an enabler and the poor toaster will never be the same, plus just the right amount of angst to make me squeal.

Underdark by Nekotsuki

2003 Mikey and Leo and stuck in the sewers after a collapse, both are hurt and oh looky here it seems Leo has fainted and Mikey is panicking, it would be great if he could take a full breath to hyperventilate with.

We've been here all along by Taizi

Beautiful 2007 tmnt, Mike gets shot, worries about making Donnie abandon him, Casey says fuck that.

walk with open hands by taizi

Mikey can't get over his fathers death and knows his brothers cant get over it either, and he is going to do something about it, been if it almost costs him everything. Was originally 1 chapter, but a second chapter from Splinters POV makes everything gorgeous.

traveling so far to get there by taizi

different age turtles, 2012 universe, Mikey and Raph gets transported to a post-apocalypses time-line aptly called the after party, no one lives, but Mikey does manage to find himself a monkey companion and Raph really wishes his little brother and him would be back home. Little moment of Mikey and Donnie being twins that is positively adorable and I need more of it ASAP. Its 10k words but reads like 30 in the best way possible, like literally a must read!

Closer by Taizi

adorable human woodyangelo

Problem child by taizi

human AU, Mikey is going to give his big brothers a heart attack, he makes questionable friends, and it seems he has a lot of growing up to be doing

Things You Never Outgrow by taizi

Mikey might just have picked up some less than stellar habits from his family as a baby, and now its coming out to bite him in the butt as his brothers notice.

Know the world in yourself by taizi

Donatello is an aspiring Egyptologist, and close friends with part-time thief and sometimes-scoundrel Casey Jones, who pickpockets an ancient map of the fabled City of the Dead off a young man he stumbles across in the Casbah—a young adventurer, it turns out, and none other than the little brother Donatello hasn't seen in almost eight years

Small spaces by Taizi

After 2012 Mikey gets captured and held by the Kraang, it seems he might just have a new fear, his brothers are not happy about it.

While you're here enjoy the view by taizi

Cute little woodyangelo 2012. They have my heart

Sleepwalking by TheKeybladeMaster1994

Splinter wakes up in a cold sweat and notices that Mikey is missing, and it seems like a dark entity is after his littlest sons light, good thing its just a nightmare, right? A few nights later it seems that is not so. Only 4 chapters but has 30k words and is a positive joy to read, I hope it continues to update.

The Ultimate Weapon by TheKeybladeMaster1994

Mikey is pure of heart and just about everything knows it, including but not limited to an eldritch entity that he swears is just try to make his life hard no matter what it tells you.

Interrogation or Malpractice by Professor_Anxietree

2012 Mikey when he got captured by the triceritons, their mind reading machine doesn't do quite what was intended and it spells out pain and sufferings for the smallest of the Hamato clan. Its pretty much being over stimulated to the max, like your skin feels too tight and you can hear your nerons firing in your brain type stuff, beware if you have overstimulation.

Someone to Protect by Koalagriton

2012. Mikey's big bothers get captured by Hun and Mikey doesn't take it well, that's going to become Huns problem.

Flowers by intomyfireyoushallfall

Mikey meets Tang Shen

The shinobi's garden by taizi

buncha one shots that you have to read, you have to istg 66k words of nothing but amazing.

family sticks together, bruh by hellomyoldheart

Mikey (Bayverse) discovers online shopping and sends it to Aprils place, April gets a package addressed for Mikey O'neil

too bad, but its the life you lead by angelmichelangelo @angelmichelangelo

2k7my beloved. Mikey is having trouble at home, good thing this new cat he found, affectionately named Klunk, can help a little. You will cry, I cried, still have read it four times, but crying non the less, read the tags or it will hit you like a freight train

the dad diaries by angelmichelangelo

pepaw Ronin and the new babies, adorable and angst ( in the form of flashbacks) nuff said

a minute from home by taizi

bteam for the win, I cant get enough, baby don and mikey wonder off and survive 3 months, it changes them

I've been afraid of changing by taizi

2007 Mikey really hates his job, Donnie didn't get that, but now he does

Give up the ghost series by taizi

Mikey can see ghosts, and that means he can see his one and only dead brother too, donnie, it causes problems for eveyone around him. human AU

The Gauntlet by T33la

Mikey and Don have to take a leap of faith, good thing Mikey has complete trust in his big bros tech

Flipbook by T33la

the 2003 SAINW donnie boy planned just in case and mikey finds the first bit of the plan, talks happen

Chronicles of the Cretaceous by T33la

Mikey boy manages to befriend a T-rex because of course he does

Words to be Spoken by Mona_E_Lisa @mona-e-lisa

Soulmate Au with woodyangelo, its got angst, just not for the boys, nd holy shyt I need more

The Silver Sentry by Mona_E_Lisa

2003 Mikey gets a son, and he deffo has some problems with Splinter, and I love him more than words

2088 by Mona_E_Lisa

If you haven't read this you haven't lived and that's all I can say. What are you doing? go read it??? like asap, will change you. Its 6k and this post will still be here when you get back, get going now sho sho

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx @unorthodoxx-page

ATLA x tmnt 2018, everyone thinks they are spirits, donnie boy isn't going to correct them, and mikey ends up malnourished, but it updates this sunday so GO Go Go asap, it great

turning over stone by angelmichelangelo

2012 mikey gets angry, and kami does it suck, but good thing his big brother has experience in dealing with it.

caught in the rip tide by angelmichelangelo

Mikey gets hurt, and it might just be leos fault. 2012 based on the season 4 episode broken food.

yolk by angelmichelangelo

Mikey can't take the fighting anymore, too bad it took wrecking a midnight breakfast for his brothers to notice.

december 18th: raise a glass by angelmichelangelo

Mikey turns 21, and they really should be winding down by now, but Donnie doesn't have the heart. technically tagged with 2012 and IDW, but could totally see it with 2007 if u ignore that raph is in japan

december 15th: a size too big by angelmichelangelo

2007 Mikey was supposed to be bac an hour ago, he is gonna be the death of Donnie I swear.

the Kappas constellation by angelmichaelangelo

bunch a one shots

Honestly just anything by angelmichelangelo or taizi, but you can see that with how often they show up in this list

FF.net

Its a cycle by GhostiesandGhoulies

Adorable 2007 Mikey being hurt while doing cowabunga car and his brothers looking after him

Clogged drain by Goblin cat KC

Horror, the poor boys were not ready for this one but I adore it. Nothing more I can say than they will have nightmares and all of them will have night lights.

Hero among them by oliviasbizzaremind

2007 gang gets a call after a rough night, its for cowabunga carl, so how exactly does this lady know Mikey's name? Mikey always was a bleeding heart.

If Wishes were Fishes by Taisi (this is also on A03 I believe I just found it on ff.net fist so i figured id share that here too)

Human AU, adorable must read, like I cant stress this enough, you haven't lived without this. And as a former foster kid, damn.

Mikey's truly awful, incredibly sucky, super hella bummer of a day by Orange4Days

Exactly what the title says and you will enjoy this boys suffering and eventual comfort.

[stcverogers]

TOP GUN FIC RECS 4!

top gun fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over recently

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

JAKE 'HANGMAN' SERESIN

F: not the only cowboy by @mrsjobarnes jake seresin did not fall first. not in any circumstance. for you, however, he might just will.

S: call by @say-al0e jake's away on detachment and his picture book of you helps remind him what's waiting for him back home.

F + A: more than this by @hangmanbrainrot you and hangman have been friends for long, neither of you dare to ruin what's already good.

F + A: the best benefits by @writercole 𖥻 you and jake have been best friends forever. just friends is all you were because surely if either of you were to catch feelings it'd have happened already right?

F: kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit + can't unfeel that + you stole my heart right off of my lips by @theharddeck fwb with jake while blatantly ignoring your feelings for him.

S: take it by @bussyslayer333 jake was your stupid best friend. you were also in love with him.

A: promise me by @footprintsinthesxnd you and jake finally had everything you could ever want. till you didn't.

F: the orange. by @violentdelightsandviolentends jake shared his orange with you. obviously that was equivalent to him laying his heart out on the line for you.

F + A: heart's getting soft by @welcome-to-my-multiverse you're jake's fake date back home for the holidays and everything feels like it was meant to be.

F + A: antidotes and poisons by @girl-in-the-chairs-void 𖥻 you and jake did not get along.

F: loverboy by @rassvetsky jake was head over heels for you and you've got him wrapped around your finger.

A: the voicemail by @callsignmercy the first you hear of jake in a decade is a voicemail he leaves before the most dangerous mission he has ever had to take part in.

F + A: line of sight by @top-hhun you have a misconception that hangman doesn't like you. he goes against everything his callsign says about him when you're in need.

F: north star by @violentdelightsandviolentends jake seresin was not a patient man. he reaches his limit this new year's.

F: jake seresin being drunk and coming home to the reader and it's basically just really cute and full of fluff!! by @of-many-fandomss

F + A: i just want you to like me by @adamstnheights you were friends with benefits with jake and all you wanted was for him to like you more than just friends.

F + A: loving you is the antidote by @demxters jake seresin was your typical frat boy. the only reason why you tolerated him was due to your friendship with your mutual friend, bradley.

F + A: traitor by @fandomxpreferences 𖥻 bradley betrays you in the worst way possible. quid pro quo.

F + A: take me home for christmas by @madsnowstorm 𖥻 you have never experienced a joyous christmas day before. thus, when jake asks if you want to go home with him for the holidays, you're reluctant.

F: practice baby by @tongue-like-a-razor you and jake 'adopt' bob to be your practice baby.

F: flygirl by @starlightstories you're penny's barkeep, but you're also one of jake's most favourite people

F: where i’m from by @sometimes-i-write-good jake thought that your date had been going good. he panics when you start crying out of nowhere.

F + A: treat you right by @eternalsams jake can’t treat you the way you deserve

F + A: is this a joke? + part 2 by @edensbuttercups a drunk hangman shows up at your door in the middle of the night.

A: champagne problems by @callsign-phoenix you knew jake's family never liked you. you would never make jake choose between you or them.

F + A: just friends by @say-al0e you and jake were not just friends. that was clear to everybody but you.

BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

F: care for you by @witchwyfe four ways bradley shows you he cares + the one time he does more.

F + A: a misinterpreted loss by @lostdreamr-blog1 you thought that you and bradley had finally reached a new place. you're thoroughly disappointed when you see him wrapped around another girl at the hard deck.

F: act accordingly by @thebirdandthebee rooster couldn't call you his if you weren't technically his

F + A: there was something ‘bout you by @bussyslayer333 bradley bradshaw had girls falling for him left and right. why would he like you? you were arrogant and annoying. it didn't help that you were stuck tutoring him english.

F + A: miss you most…at christmas time by @notroosterbradshaw bradley's not going to be home for christmas and it takes a toll on his relationship with his family

S + A: home for the holidays by @mothdruid bradley lies to his family about having a girlfriend. in order to keep up with the lie, you, his best friend, become his pretend-girlfriend for the holidays.

F + A: je te laisserai des mots by @jupitercomet 𖥻 every little girl dreams of their wedding day, the pretty dress and the fancy venue, you included. why then are you absolutely miserable on what's supposed to be the happiest day of your life?

F + A: remember you even when i don't by @beyondthesefourwalls 𖥻 even though rooster has no memory of who you are, he stills feels an unbreakable connection between the two of you

F + A: i would never hurt you by @roosterforme rooster would never hurt you the way that you had been hurt

F + A: that's my man by @greymoonfeelings you and rooster talk through his insecurities

ROBERT 'BOB' FLOYD

F: candy by @bussyslayer333 bob has a thing for the cute barista at the coffeeshop he frequents.

F: stiff competition by @roosterforme the dagger squad are smitten over the owner of a quaint bakery but you've only got your eyes set on bob.

F: are you forgetting anything? by @taylorsburner bob nearly forgets something before leaving for work.

F: mini me by @bippot phoenix has never met her backseater's family. she's only seen them from pictures that bob keeps. the end of the uranium mission is the perfect time for the dagger squad to meet the floyd family.

F + A: love story by @auroradawnwrites you and bob were supposed to live happily ever after. your father takes that away from the both of you and you're both stuck longing over the other, on opposite sides of the country.

F: mixed up match up by @purplevortexx you meet bob before you knew he was bob

MICKEY 'FANBOY' GARCIA

F: you wonder how he got his call sign by @imawkwardlysoc fanboy got his callsign because he's indeed, a fanboy.

F: subatomic particles by @rassvetsky picnic with mickey and he's so in love with you.

F: the dangers of the holidays by @crazyk-imagine the holidays is the most dangerous time of the year. all that wrapping and taping.

[gothsugarbunnidisco]

lawlight fic rec list

so i’m gonna do a series of these, starting with my favorite death note ship! make sure to pay attention to all warnings on these fics. enjoy! if you have a ship you’d like me to make a rec list for, please just send me an ask! i don’t want to be obnoxious, and i’m not saying they’re good, but i (slackjawbitch on ao3) have some lawlight fics up!

♡ = a favorite of kitty’s

angst

♡ 1. i’m drowning; please save me: L looks at Yagami Light and drowns. There is no other way to put it. As the days pass and blend into weeks, L looks at Yagami Light sitting next to him, the harsh lines of his face creased and determined, and he swallows water.

L looks at Yagami Light and he cannot breathe.

great characterization, always makes me very emo, and is probably a pretty major influence on my writing. one shot. 1,817 words.

2. always waiting for you just to cut to the bone: And then, breaking through the pounding in his head he hears what would be the last words out of that wretched man’s lips.

“I love you.”

fic for teh death note drama (2016) canon! title is unfortunately from a t*ylor sw*ft song (/silly) but this fic is so good and sad.

3. Our Bodies, Possessed By Light: L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

modeling and photography au. make sure to read all teh tags and warnings for this one; there’s nothing gross, but some potentially triggering subjects for some people are in here. multi chapter. 81,218 words.

4. Hearts and Spades: Which would you choose? Love or death? RaitoL, slight AU.

short but sweet piece featuring that classic fanfiction dot net era vibe, an emo-ass playing card metaphor (/pos), and a recounting of l’s death scene that made me sad over him all over again (also /pos). and also light being obnoxious, but it’s death note, so that’s usually a given, lol. one shot. 1,801 words.

5. Not Quite Drowning: Sometimes Light ponders happiness. L/Light

a short lawlight and light character study. i like it a lot, and i don’t usually like light, so that should tell you something about how well i think it’s written! one shot. 424 words.

♡ 6. Water, water, water: In the bath, they forget they’re a detective and a suspect; they remove these identities along with their clothes, layer by layer until there are only the handcuffs left. And them; facing the other in the eerie calmness of their bathroom.

At least, it’s how Light sees it.

i really love this one! make sure to read teh tags, as eating disorders and drugs are mentioned, for example. angst with a happy ending! one shot. 3,504 words.

fluff

1. Silver Bells: Silver bells...silver bells...

They’ve made it. Everything is okay now, when they’re dancing in the candlelight.

really, really cute! i recommend it as a palate cleanser to make you feel better after reading a sad one, lol. one shot. 1,255 words.

♡ 2. New Year’s Eve: "I've seen fireworks before," he says. "This is... so much... more."

just a cute little new year’s eve lawlight fireworks show! this one is also from 2009 which is kinda cool to me, haha. i like this author’s descriptive language a lot. one shot. 507 words.

♡ 3. Do Gay Penguins Go to Hell?: Too many New Year snacks bring about a family discussion between L, Raito and their daughter about healthy diet, common sayings and nature of good and evil. And gay penguins, of course. AU

a really darling kid fic, based on teh stupid, homophobic controversy over that adorable kids’ book about teh gay penguin couple. one shot. 3,791 words.

4. A Feeling: It's LxLight fluff! This takes place after Light was confined and lost his memories, chained to L. : D SO YUS. SOME FLUFF FOR YAH D: Hope you leik it :D

very cute “l and light cuddle and kiss” fic, written by a scene kid in 2008, which is extra points with me! one shot. 1,006 words.

alright! i will add to this rec list as i find more fics, and i would love it if people would send in their favorite lawlight fics!

[rongzhi]

Hi! I have been learning Chinese for 8 months now, and even though I'm doing okay on HSK3 level, i feel like I'm in need of more content for this level that i can consume and practice. A lot of the shows and tv programs are still too difficult for me and i only understand around 40% of words (at most 😆).

I already watched everything on YouTube channels like Mandarin Click or Mandarin Corner etc, but in general i cant find that much for low levels. Do you happen to know where I could find some more? It could be texts, stories or videos, just below HSK4.

Sorry to take your time. Have a good day!

First of all, great progress!

I would continue just watching some programs for the exposure, even if you can't quite keep up yet.

Aside from apps and standard learning material (which I assume you already have resources for), I think for HSK 3 which I assume is beginner/intermediate, you might just have to bite the bullet and follow along with elementary school content, even if it's boring.

You can probably also find children's programming on Bilibili. I gave a rec in this ask of some Chinese cartoons to check out. Make sure to check out any recs in the notes as well!

This playlist with videos aimed toward Chinese 1st graders. It is a little dry, but the teacher speaks clearly and fairly slowly and from the first few minutes, I think it should at least be good listening practice as well as reading practice with anything visual. A lot of the first videos go over things you should already know since the videos are aimed at teaching Chinese children to read, so you may just want to skip to part 43, 课文1, where the videos will begin class readings of elementary texts.

Check out this site for scans of pages from the Ministry of Education's textbooks. The link should go straight to the page for first grade, but if you find that too easy, the menu across the top of the page goes up to 6th grade. There are just one or two years' books for each grade, I think (you'll have to click around a look). The textbooks contain short stories with pinyin guides.

This youtube channel has Chinese nursery rhymes if you don't mind the ugly ass art

Generally speaking, I think after HSK3/HSK4 is where your language skills will really see improvement so when you're still starting out there's not as much material because that's when it's expected that you just have your head stuck in a textbook.

You might find it useful to give yourself some longer term projects or challenges; translation is a good way to really spend some time thinking about the language, so it might help to find a song you really like and try translating it line by line with a dictionary. Pick a pop ballad or something that sounds cute and simple because other genres like gufeng will probably be too difficult. Later, when your language skills have improved some more, you can try translating the same song again and see if you decide to make any different translation choices based on new insights.

If anyone wants to leave more links for beginners, please feel free to do so in the replies of this post!

[your-writer-beta-side-piece]

Looks like it’s time for me to pop back up again begging for fics about my new hyper fixation!

What’s in store for you in this post:

*An impassioned plea throughout the whole post to all of you amazing writers

*Gifs that will keep you up at night too

🎅 *My Gator Tillman fic Christmas wishlist 🎅

🏆*A (Smutty) Rec at the bottom for the best Gator x OC I’ve found so far🏆

*More gifs because goddamn I’m in a chokehold 

It is seriously criminal how there’s like, two Gator x OC’s (that I can find, if you have any don’t hold out on me please!! I feel like I’m going through withdrawals having to wait a week for another episode as it is) on here and AO3. 

I mean come on we all love ourselves a slutty, dominate, broken character that we all fantasize about fixing. 

Not a single thought I’ve had about this man has of the Christ like variety, and I don’t think I really need to explain why just look at these gifs/photos:

HE HAS HANDCUFFS ON THE BED THE FICS ARE WRITING THEMSELVES 

🎅My Gator Tillman Fanfic Christmas wishlist🎅:

I want a full story fleshing out our new favorite loser, but still somehow so damn attractive, Gator

I want an ofc that is too good for him but we all know we’d sink that low too girl

I’d LOVE it if it followed canon. Like how in the show he’s trying to get her/he's going after her like he is trying to get Dot 

(come on if he was stalking you and called out to you and said “mama it’s time to come home” YOU TOO WOULD FOLD)

I want him to use those handcuffs on our girl once he finally gets her

I want smut 

Y’all on AO3 come up with the best damn oc’s there’s a reason they’re binding yalls books and talking about them all over booktok like you guys are published authors 

(Im not saying it’s right/that I participate or that it is even legal, I’m saying Ive seen it and I know you guys have the caliber of writing to make some people not give a fuck and try the law for some of you guy's stories)

I want him to call her mama

I want the dominance, the stalking, the cat and mouse chase

I want a plot as wild as this season and those families are

I know some people hate fics that follow plots of books or shows but this season is AMAZING and so fucking wild. I love it and I’d love to read about it and be immersed further into Fargo. I don’t want to leave the season 5 Fargo world I want to stay longer... with Gator

I want more smut 

A plot that can only be contrived by fanfic authors who have been reading and writing since they were 15 or even younger

I want even more smut 

I want all of the angst, good writing, and humor you can think of

I have a feeling we’ll need some of you fic doctors to write us a fix it fic of some sort 

But I especially want smut. I want to drown in smut. 

I want it all and you guys have served it all before so I know it's possible

If I could outline a whole plot, along with side plots, new characters and character arcs, write, and edit as fast as some of you guys can I would do it myself. I would do it for us. I’ve considered it. I mean I’ve been really considering it these past few days since it’s dryer out here than the Lyon’s bed. I’ve got an idea, lust, Christmas candy, and the hyper-focus to keep me interested for at least three to four weeks!! (I might have started if it wasn't the week before finals for me right now)

But some of you guys who’ve written for Steve Harrington (let alone other fandoms) have the ability to be best selling authors, so I know these communities have both the talent, ability, and the horniness to do this. 

I believe in you guys, I believe in us. Let's do it for Christmas 🎄

REC I PROMISED:

Since it is the season of giving, I’m going to share my favorite fic so far. Let me know if there’s any fics we need to add, OR if there’s any books with love interests like Gator, for science 👀 

Again the general criteria I’m using is along the lines of:

Is there an actual story going on?

Is there an oc who has a purpose, goals, wants, needs, an actual arc of some sort?

Is Gator Tillman still sexy af?

Is it following canon or is it original?

Is the plot and characterization good?

Does Gator call her mama or is it at least probable that he will 👀 ?

Is the grammar/writing good?

Basically the same stuff we all want to check off 

MY FAVORITE FIC SO FAR REC: 

The best I’ve found so far has been: 

Every Little Thing

By BuckysGrace

Link:

Why I like love it:

1.) The writing is pretty damn good

Normally we have to wait a few weeks or months with new movies/shows/books for people to have time to write and publish their well written and plotted fics but we have been blessed early!!

I really like the sprinkle of tid bits to come here and there. The authors really laying the foundation down for this story leaving little comments and hints here and there in their writing and characters conversations. 

I can tell that the author is really working hard to create believable oc's and a world that could actually be a part of the Fargo TV show universe.

2.) Damn the little taste of smut we got just flamed the fire!

Tell me why I could actually visualize Gator during that scene?!?! It really felt like his characterization was perfect here! And damn I love me some dominant, possessive, jealous himbos who would kill for me or worse.

I PROMISE I'M TRYING SO HARD NOT TO SPOIL ANYTHING FOR YOU GUYS!!!

3.) I really like our girl Daphne (OC)

I feel like I can actually see her. Like I can hear her when she speaks. I can feel the awkwardness of her situation and her uncomfortableness radiating through me. 

I like that she's shaping up to be a character with wants and goals and not just a 2-d romantic partner

4.) GODDAMN THAT DINNER WAS AWKWARD AND SEXY 

I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE AFTERMATH ooooooo boy.  I’m not spoiling anything. You can suffer (and enjoy 😏) that part all for yourselves

5.) We have confirmation from the author that there is a whole ass plot and story in the works

I love to hear it almost as much as I love to read it! But I could tell that they had some stuff in mind from the way they were writing alone before the confirmation. 

6.) AND ITS GOING TO FOLLOW CANON EVENTUALLY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME US! 

I might just get to hear Gator call our girl mama before I die from fic starvation. Plus we just might get the stalker Gator on page like we have on screen!

7.) I like the dual time line

It’s done a good job of getting me hooked. I’m really interested in learning more about Daphne’s past and her relationship with Gator. I think as time goes on as we learn more about their relationship and her relationship with both her family and his things are really gonna kick off.

4.) Gators characterization seems to be pretty accurate 

He's selfish, possessive, dominante, kind of a jackass, but he is also sweet to those he cares about. Which, is something I've noticed when watching the show, and I've seen some posts talking along similar lines. I don't think he's mean deep down, I don't think he has it in him. I think the facade he puts on is the product of his father.

BUT I'm not excusing anything he's done of course

6.) The grammar is pretty good 

Good writing like punctuation and sentence structure along with good story telling is just so important to me. I'm one of those people who can't get into a story if it's not written well.

7.) GUYS IM SMELLING THE ANGST COMING

Some of us are like blood hounds for this stuff, you read hundreds or even thousands of fics and books and you can start to know what goodies are coming your way. And I can feel the pain train a comin down the tracks! 

8.) The smut is promising to be real real good 

I just want to circle back to this for a moment because I am so excited to read more

What I don’t like about it:

It’s not longer/finished already so I can't devour it in one sitting 😭

You might not have read it yet 

@buckysgrace

I think the only way through this is to fill our thirst for this man and if here and TikTok have shown me anything it’s that we’re DAMN thirsty! 

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE!? GO WRITE MORE GATOR X OC SO WE CAN ALL DEVOUR IT ON A03 OR READ BUCKYSGRACE’S FIC AND CRY WITH ME THAT THERES NOT MORE OF IT OR MORE OF ANY OTHER GATOR X OFC FICS 😭😭😭

*Did I write all of this instead of doing homework and studying for next weeks finals? Yes. Am I eventually going to devolve into a fic rec/review only blog? Maybe maybe not.

More gifs/photos for research purposes

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The UnIntended Series {Book 1: UnExpected}

Okay, so I'm actually nervous to post this. It's wild. With my fanfiction, I don't really feel nervous having others read it, but this---😬.

Anyway, here is chapter 1. As of now, I'm not sure if I will post the 2nd one. Again it'll only be up for a day or two then I will delete it.

To anyone reading it please give me some feedback rather than a "like". I am partly using this as a focus group/beta read session so feedback is crucial. What did you think? Any part you liked or disliked? Would you want to continue it from the 1st chapter alone? If you came across it in a bookstore or Amazon, would you buy it?

Note I: This has NOT been edited beyond small grammatical issues. Also, I am not 100% sold on the name "Daryl" so don't let it be a hang-up.

Note II: Everything here has been officially copywritten so be careful, I'm the wrong one to try.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prologue

He was my addiction. My cloudy sky. My stormy night my thunderstorms. He was my chocolate brownie with the chocolate ice cream on top. He was my passion my need my obsession. He was my poison. My sweet, delicious poison and I couldn't get enough--wouldn't get enough. I needed him like I needed air water food. It was never enough. His sex was killer, his kiss was sugar, and his body was the best creation made by the creator. His love was death. He was--my ruin.

Chapter 1

“Ughhhh, deeper, harder, uuuugh, yes. Right there, right there. Don’t stop! God, yes, yes, yes, yessssssssssssssssssss!”

Though my vocabulary was quite advanced, no other words could form. The sensations had taken on a life of their own.

“Oh shit, damn baby”.

He drops on the bed next to me panting heavily filling the air with our combined scent. I moan deeply still feeling the power of him between my thighs, “That was amazing La”, Daryl says using the name he’s always called me since college.

I remember the day we met in college like it was yesterday instead of the nearly eight years it actually had been. I was coming up the steps in the rec room not looking where I was going then bam I ran smack into him. At that time we were both kids, barely nineteen with plenty more to learn about the world and the affairs of the heart. When I looked at him it was all over, then when he smiled that lopsided, slick grin of his, I was a goner. Signed sealed delivered I was his. He must have known it too. There was no way he hadn’t because the smug look on his face said it all.

He’d said, “I haven’t ran into anyone as beautiful as you around here, I have to know your name”.

Boy was it a cheesy line, but I was nineteen after all and it was the flyest line I’d heard. I was his.

“You’re just going to leave me hanging?”

Daryl’s voice brought me out of my memory, a memory that was once your favorite but was slowly becoming one you wished you could forget. Looking over next to me, I find his dewy brown eyes staring into me with a questioning look.

“Oh I’m sorry my mind was wandering, it was amazing, but--,” I stretch out rolling onto my side and bring my hand to toned his chest. Slowly I trail my fingers down his smooth skin over each ab muscle, down past his mind dumbing oblique indentations to his still alert appendage. The moan that escaped him was a deep throaty one that said he was more than ready for round three.

Smiling, I lean closer slipping the tip of my tongue along the shell of his ear. “It’s always been amazing, I’m always amazing”, I say in a self-satisfied way before continuing to lick his ear.

“Mmm, you’re bad. Trying to start something?”

That same lopsided smirk decorated his lips and my belly flipped.

“Nope, who said we were done to begin with?”

Without missing a beat, Daryl crashed his full lips into mine, but it was me who took control of the kiss. The passion between us was evident and I was sure that if the room had smoke alarms we would have set them off. Another sensual moan escaped his lips which made my nether regions clench from the desire to have him nestled there again. Just as his movements became urgent and his kiss needy, a loud sound filled the silence pf the space.

Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.

“Mmm, ignore it,” I coax continuing the pleasurable attack my hand was doping under the black sheet of Daryl’s bed.

“Ah, baby,” he groaned out as my finger glided across the smooth tip of his manhood.

With more urgency, Daryl pressed himself against me then brought his large hand to trace along the right side of my body until he cupped my breast.

“Mmm,” I say tightening the grip of my hand around him.

Daryl’s response was to tweak my sensitive and aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The action easily brought more moans of pleasure from my lips. It also served the purpose of distracting me. When I felt his other hand skim across my stomach then dip lower and lower the anticipation in me had my back arching off the bed.

Once he made it to the sweet spot between my thighs a high-pitched sigh escaped me. Within seconds he had me panting and mewling from the skill of his fingers and within seconds I needed more of him. Daryl was good at many things, but the one thing he excelled at hands down was his ability to get me from zero to one hundred in thirty seconds flat. It was a skill he’d developed in college and had never relented in holding the record for.

Buzz, Buzz. Buzz, buzz.

I felt the absence of him before he pulled away but when his hand left my body he spoke against my lips, “It could be work, La”.

In this very moment you didn’t give a flying fuck if it was work. Right now there were much more important matters at hand. That was all it took to spark my anger. It was a small action, but it spoke volumes and brought memories of other times before where he’d seemed so aloof. Using all the self-control I possessed coupled with some learned tricks to decelerate my emotions, I clenched my jaw and silently willed my anger to remain in check.

With my eyes glued to him, I watch on as he glances at his phone screen then types in the unlock code. When his face illuminates white from the screen, I continue to watch and crane my eyes to get a glimpse of his screen to see just what it was that had interrupted your moment. Almost as soon as it opens there is a picture of a pretty woman with her legs spread eagle butt naked.

“Oh”,” Daryl rushes out as he jerks from me. The sudden movement has him fumbling his phone but with a stroke of last-minute grace he holds it close to him, hiding it from me. Too late.

The tight hold I had on my anger was suddenly not enough to contain it. With almost inhumane speed, I bolted upright and glared at him sending a thousand hot blades through my eyes in his direction.

“What the hell was that!?”

The heat on my face quickly spread down my neck until my chest felt like I was standing in direct sunlight on the hottest day of summer.

Daryl shrugs, “Nothing”.

“Don’t nothing me, I saw that. Who is that”?

He reached over the bed and placed his phone on the bedside table. “I don’t know La. Must have been a wrong number. It’s nothing”.

My nose crinkled from the stench of his lie. They always had their own distinct scent. I always knew when he was lying and unfortunate he was lying more often than not. “

“Oh nothing? That’s nothing!? So, it’s nothing when you’re getting naked pictures while you’re in bed with me?”

I hadn’t meant to scream the words but once they were out they bounced off the walls, echoing in the room.

“La, calm down,” Daryl cautiously encouraged, “She’s no one.”

Suddenly I felt as if I was going to be sick. The tight knot in my stomach spasmed, a familiar feeling. “No one! So if she’s no one, then what am I?”

Daryl rolled his eyes, and sighed in the exaggerated way he did when he was annoyed with the direction something had taken, “God here we go”.

When he dropped back onto the bed, you bolted to your feet. He was annoyed? Shit, I was past annoyed right now and I had every right to be.

 “Yes here we do, Daryl. What the hell is wrong with you? Who is that woman and why is she sending you naked pictures?”

Silence filled the space as he laid there staring into the ceiling completely ignoring me. He knew how much I hated it when he did this. I was convinced he did it because I hated it so much. I didn’t want to go irate right now, but I was seconds away from going atomic.

“Hello!”

Another sigh came from him before he sat up and reached for me. With his hand inches from my breast I leaned back and slapped it away. It was supposed to be a regular hit but because of my anger it was much more than a regular hit. It was a hard one that made the sting from it ricochet through your hand.

“You know what, fuck you Daryl.”

Without missing a beat, I turned and walked to the chair across the room where my clothes were currently draped over. It was time to go. I shouldn’t have even been here to begin with. Keeping my back to him I began putting on my clothes.

“Unfuckinbelivable! Every time is the same mess. The same thing!”

Angrily slinging my shirt over my head I do my best to keep the tears pricking my eyes away. I was tired of crying, tired of this circle.

“Don’t do this La,” Daryl began, his voice smooth as a hustler on the corner trying to upsell some weed, “Listen her name is Marcella, and we were hanging out a while back. That’s it, we haven’t in weeks though.”

Spinning around to face him my eyes narrowed, “Weeks? We’ve been fucking for years Daryl. We’ve been going around this for years. Years! Unbelievable. Oh La, I miss you, I love you, I’m going to change I promise, it’s just you. Bullshit!”

I felt so stupid to have believed his lies, to have expected anything to change. I felt dumb being here right now. My anger had morphed into hurt and it was becoming harder and harder to fight back the tears.  I should have known nothing had changed, that nothing would have changed. Deep down I knew it was the same bullshit. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw the truth shining back at me. I had been stupid for a long time.

I watch as Daryl slinks across the room to me with a somber look on his face that I knew was an act. For it to be real he had to feel remorse, an emotion you doubted he even fathomed. Raising my hands I try to keep him at bay because I know if he touches me even a little bit my anger will falter, and he will turn it all around. I didn’t want him to placate me with lies any longer.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Now I can’t touch you? Come on, you love when I touch you.”

He laced his fingers with mine before he pulled me closer to him. “I’m the only one that makes you feel good,” he cooed, “The only one that knows how to touch you.”

For emphasis, Daryl brought his hand around to cup my ass in a way that also brought my leg up to wrap around his waist. Groaning, I pressed my palm to his torso trying to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. “I’m the only one that makes you drip”, he says his voice dropping to an impossibly deep baritone that instantly proved his words true. It was a voice I had always been utterly powerless against.

I hated his cockiness, hated that there was even an ounce of truth to his words, hated that he had me right where he wanted me.

“Stop it Daryl, I’m not playing.”

 “Neither am I,” he said against your ear making you shiver. “I haven’t seen her in weeks. As I said, it’s nothing.”

With that, he tipped my chin up, so I looked into his eyes and just like that, it was over. “I want you”.

I searched his eyes for lies though I knew the lies were to be found on his lips instead. I searched frantically and desperately but there were no lies in his eyes.

“You La. Just you.”

His lips crashed into mine, pulling me into a soul sucking kiss. Soul sucker. That was exactly what he is. Soul sucker. I knew he was full of shit; I knew it yet still I allowed him to kiss me, allowed him the time to worm him hands along my body until I felt his fingers creep up my skirt where I am bare and wet. Wet from wanting him, needing him. Damn it! I hated this; I hated him. A moan filled the room, and I am annoyed to realize it was mine.

Traitor. My body was a traitor, always had been. Daryl lifted me and instinctively my other leg wrapped around his waist. When his mouth moved to my neck the hard press of his girth between my thighs sends my head flying back giving him complete access to the spot he loved to exploit and that was when I knew it.

Fuck! It’s over.

Once he has my back slammed against the wall, he follows suit but grinding his hips against me so I can feel the thing I crave.  Without warning, he then slams into me with all the strength and force his powerful body holds. The action pulls a scream from your lips. It’s a scream that is raspy and high pitched all at once, a scream that never stood a chance of ending because before it could, he snapped his lips forward again reminding me that every word he spoke before was true.

“Aaah!”

The force of Daryl’s hips slams into me over and over, harder, and harder until I am seeing stars and unable to catch my breath. All I can do is hold onto him for dear life and pray to whoever was watching this show that you wouldn’t be forever scared by this man.

“You’re mine La!”

Slam.

“Mine!”

Slam.

“--Have been since you were nineteen and will always be mine,” he added, his lips brushing your ear, so you didn’t miss one word.

Slowing down, Daryl circled his hips again nudging your g-spot until you were sure you were going to pass out. In seconds you were clenching around him giving him the satisfaction of knowing you were powerless to him.

“This sweet spot is mine, Leianna, cause I do it the best. Me!”

The possessiveness in his voice could not be missed. He always did get off on claiming ownership. He loved it when I told him I belonged to him, loved when I bore his markings on my skin for others to see, and loved I went out smelling like him. This was nothing different. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as he overwhelmed me with the barrage of thrusts that served as nothing more than way to mark you, brand you as his.

Another orgasm claimed me sweeping me up into the frenzy of need that tied us together.

Bringing his hand to your throat he held you there against the wall making you moan louder and clench harder around him. “Say my name La, say it!”

He knew I liked it when he got rough. Fuck him, I thought as another moan fell from my lips. I hated him but I was loving every second of the pleasure he brought me through this show of assertion he was putting on, loved the feel of him pounding into me, trying to mark me. Fuck him and damn me, I loved it all.

“Say it,” Daryl badgered adding a slight amount of pressure. Not enough to hurt me but it was enough to make me wetter.

“Daryl,” I gasp out of breath as he keeps pounding into me against his wall.

“Whose is it? Who does it belong to?”

The air around us has become so thick that catching a breath is nearly impossible and the lack of oxygen has my head spinning.

“Whose!”

His shout brings me back to the moment. our eyes linger and I watch as his mouth falls open clearly enraptured with the pleasure he was finding in me.  

“Yours. Shit Daryl, it’s yours, always has been, yes, yes, yes!”

I feel the tint of shame wash over me. Shame for saying the words, shame for allowing him to put me in this situation, shame for never wanting him to stop fucking me, shame for wanting to stay in this bubble for as long as possible because it would mean he would stay here with me in this moment away from his lies and away from his asshole moves.

Digging my nails into his shoulder I aim to hurt him and with his shout I am pleased to know that I have. With one final thrust that sends my head banging into the wall, Daryl fills me, marking me as we both find our release. For long moments we clutch one another panting as we slowly come down from the euphoria of our bodies connecting, the euphoria I had only ever found in him.

When I am coherent enough I realize that Daryl had moved us back to the bed. I feel his lips press to my jaw, then my neck before he pulls away from my body and walks away toward the bathroom. I take another steadying breath then see him grab his phone from the nightstand before disappearing into the bathroom. Again the knot in my stomach spasms and I feel sick to my stomach as utter disgust and self-loathing washes over me. I was stupid, so stupid. I knew it, and he must have known it too because he knew he had me, he knew it.

The stinging of my tears pushed me into action. Standing on wobbly legs I took a moment to steady myself then fixed the clothes I was wearing. I approached the chair again to finish dressing then dug a note card from my purse and wrote across it with the red lipstick he liked so much. Gathering my things I walked to the bed ignoring the crumpled sheets and placed the notecard on his pillow. Looking around I took a moment to make sure I had everything then walked through the bedroom door towards the door.

I didn’t look back. What was the purpose of doing so? I walked with my head high and spine straight with a head filled with vows to never return but your heart whispered into the abyss of your pain that you’d be back.

[tenderlyrenjun]

Married

re:preview no. 1 and no. 2

minors + bots do not interact; fic rec blogs without comments do not reblog

A/N: from a joke idea to a poor fic preview to a final fic ... here it is! and it took me a little less than 2 weeks to write this, so please take it with a grain of salt. also, ik that i said i hate childhood friends to lovers (for psych reasons), but jeno is just so friend shaped.

summary: you take jeno to be your lawful wedding date, in busan.

includes ... girl/afab reader, porn with feelings, mutual pining, strong!jeno, they’re both government officials with the city planning department, jaehyun (127) marries mingyu (svt) btw ... smut warnings ... sex dreams, lingerie, oral sex (f + m receiving), masturbation (f + m), fingering, spanking, 69ing/ish, big dick!jeno, choking/breath play, edging (kind of but not really), praise during sex but not like a kink, unprotected sex, and so, so much consent ♡

wc: 25,9k (again, i am so sorry)

again, minors + bots do not interact

“Hey … hey, wake up. The conductor hasn’t come by to punch our tickets yet, and you’re sitting on them.”

You gently pat Jeno’s face where the 5:30 sunrise glows, barely seeping down the half-shielded window; he immediately closed it, about five minutes ago, once the night ended, more irritated by the sun waking him up than moving beds from his apartment to train, but he still kept a small part cracked, as if wanting to relive the road trips home during Seollal, when you two, excided by leaving college at the earliest moment, would book the cheapest rides and get picked up before rush hour. Your long sleeves scratch along his freshly shaven jaw, like scrubbing pillowy softness into his cheeks, and he tries to ignore it – tries to ignore you, except you become extra annoying, squeezing his face harder until he has to slap your hands away to avoid sleeping on the empty hard seat beside him, the last one in this connected row, where his blazer, a less comfy pillow than your narrow shoulder, takes residence. Jeno slides his palm across yours, enveloping your wrists like handcuffs, fixing them on your thighs. You have to take a moment, tongue weighing heavy and dry. He never really lets you forget how strong he is, oblivious to it all.

Even last night, when you helped him last-minute stress pack (a.k.a. the real reason you stayed at the 00-Line apartment), you hopped on his overflowing luggage, complaining that one clap from him would snap it shut (or completely break it, but you felt optimistic!). Granted, your shoes sat on top of all his clothes, preventing it from zipping up without something weighing it down – which is why his blazer sits on the bench, not in his bag, or yours. You told him that he could put it in one of your bags, but you both knew there was no room, what with all your different wedding outfits. He deadpanned at you, hearing that revelation – the multiple wardrobe changes –, throwing his facial cleanser at your loose makeup bag (the one you ended up shoving in his backpack too).

But not everyone can just wear one suit like him! You have the pre-wedding outfit, before you change into your attendance dress at city hall while you help Jaehyun set up; then, there’s the dinner dress, which you plan on also using at the rehearsal dinner, and a dress for the real reception, and of course you need a backup in case something happens to one of those, in addition to the matching shoes, because shoes (and accessories) elevate the appearance, as you reasoned, which made him visibly nervous for some reason, as if you would leave him looking like an outsider with your family, the same family he has known since middle school. You reassured him that he will always match with you, and if not, Busan has a thousand stores to buy a tie … which would have the potential to also not fit in his bag, like the blazer, but you two – he – can make it work! He makes everything work, like a superpower.

Jeno end up wearing the blazer over his hoodie, to the station, giving him a needed second layer against the dark 16-degree weather. He looked more put together with it on, than he probably actually felt, especially considering that he only had 10 minutes to get ready before Mark drove you to the KTX station. Although, the façade breaks now that it’s just the two of you in the booth – no strangers, no coverups, no friends, no expectations; so when he picks his head up and his hoodie falls, navy fluffy hair sticking out at random angles, you stop staring at your hands below his and catch his bangs, tucking them back gently into place. You want to move him into your lap (it might be more comfortable), but not yet; the conductor still has to punch your tickets, and you don’t want to repeat Chuseok 2020 when the conductor scolded you for laying across the bench. Plus, you never really get the chance to do this with him, be this close to him, not that you don’t want to, or that it’s too hard.

You just … never get the chance.

“How are you this awake,” he groans, raising his analog watch into squinted view, nearly crying laughter as his eyes close again, cheek pressing into your shoulder, “at 5:37 AM?”

You roll your head dramatically, provoking more grumbles out of him that make you giggle as he jostles. “Some of us actually go to sleep earlier when we know that we have a schedule at dawn.” You graze your recently manicured nails into his scalp, mumbling through a smile, “You knew we were going to leave for Jaehyun’s wedding a few days in advance; you were there when I booked our tickets; he invited us to lunch because of you.” Jeno makes an objecting noise. “Ah, maybe I should’ve invited Haechan instead.”

“Hey.” Jeno smacks your thigh, his long fingers curling behind your knee to pull you closer. You gulp, praying that he cannot hear the knot in your throat. Apparently, his displays of strength are inversely related to his energy levels; the less energy he has, the more he uses his strength with you. But thankfully, he remains oblivious, poking your stomach with his furthest hand. He slinks up your shoulder, massaging down your tension to get selfishly comfortable, warm breath exhaling into your neck. “You fell asleep maybe 20 minutes before I did,” he objects, arguing the root of the problem, as if knowing that he will always be your first choice, “and that was, like, four hours ago.”

“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically, masking the new sweat on your palms under your sweater paws. You rub your hands together for a second, bouncing the heels together, before pushing him up, with all your strength, holding him there long enough – despite a series of complaints – to take the tickets from under his ass. “I wasn’t the one who said,  ‘No,’ to coffee when Jaemin offered.”

“He went to sleep when I woke up!”

“Eh,” you wave off and lay him on your shoulder again, “Excuses.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, pouting, cuddling you so tightly that your revolve falters, “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re being mean to me.”

You comb his hair again, soothing all the wrinkles in his forehead, not denying it. He is partially correct. You do take advantage of his kindness – merely because he offers it so nicely, on a silver platter; it is a reason why you lo… why you … why you return it so easily, albeit quietly, like now. He will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend; he lets you overpack his luggage; he opens his apartment to you with wide arms. And in return, you paid for the KTX tickets and hotel; you reserved a slot at a shooting range in Jeonju where your layover stops; you let him fall asleep on your shoulder right now, even though you are tired as hell, too.

Besides, your cousin, Jaehyun, probably would have invited Jeno to the reception anyways. He invited everyone, on a limited occupancy, from Eunwoo to Jihyo. And Jeno , who once wished Jaehyun to be his older brother, is pretty close with your family. There is no way he would not end up in the family photos.

“Ugh.” Jeno sits up, rubbing his eyes single handedly with the arm detached from you. “Why did we agree to lunch? We could be sleeping right now.”

You laugh at him, tugging him back down easily, and ghost your fingers in his hair. “Mingyu has to finish up some work project before they can go on their honeymoon, so Jaehyun suggested lunch to give his fiancée some uninterrupted time.”

“Boo, they’re just going to fuck,” Jeno yawns, starting to fall asleep again. “You stay over at my apartment all the time, it’s like you practically moved into my room, and there’s no way you get any work done.”

“Ha … ha .. a .. yeah …” Totally not distracted by him, or how much freer he is in his bedroom, always wearing basketball shorts without underwear as it seems, always manspreading enough for you to see. It is definitely not the same thing. You lift your head to look over the seats. “Where is that conductor? We need to get moving.”

Jeno slides you back down. “But really, you got this?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Alright.” He nuzzles into your neck, almost kissing your skin when he tilts his chin up. Your entire body freezes for a second, anticipating, hoping, that he kisses you, any part of you. But he doesn’t. And you press your lips together, eyes closing too, just briefly, as not to fall asleep. “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we get there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

As he settles into sleep, Jeno’s head slowly nods forward, and you cup outside his cheek, catching him before he falls, lingering your nails behind his jaw for a moment, for this moment, until you spot the conductor. Amazing timing. You sigh. Jeno’s fingers twitch closed, briefly, like a reassuring hug that you misinterpret – willingly misinterpret – as something more, like this is okay, it is okay to have feelings during arbitrary moments. You inch apart from Jeno again, shifting on your hip, into the aisle, and pick up the tickets again, holding them so tightly that little veins fold onto the papers.

The conductor comes by, moving ever so slowly, like he wants to help you preserve this moment, with your best friend unconscious on your shoulder, and as though he could read your heart, he says, “You’re a cute couple."

"Ha ... thanks," you smile politely, biting your lip, grounding yourself with a look a Jeno. He spasms in his sleep, hand squeezing your thigh again. “Oh, right.” You hand the tickets over, reality resuming. You try to cease your shaking hands between your thighs, shoulders raised as awkwardly as the smile on your face, but Jeno’s hand, his strong hand, splits your legs, so you give up.

“We still have some chocolates left from White Day,” the conductor informs softly. The entire world seems to calm down, or stay asleep, for Jeno’s sake, and you don’t blame them, lowering your own tension too. “I can bring some for you and your boyfriend if you like.”

You swallow thickly, licking the corner of your mouth, considering it selfishly because why would anyone reject free candy?, but you shake your head. “No, I’ll – I’ll, ah … wait for my b-boyfriend to wake up first. H-he really likes chocolate.” Oh, my God; be cool, you scold yourself, but the nerves make you feel bad, like you are too close to Jeno or you make him uncomfortable with other people’s assumptions.

“Alright,” the conductor nods, smiling at the two you, practically repeating cute couple, “Let me know. I’ll save some for you.”

After he punches your tickets and hands them back – an archaic practice, and vain, since you checked in electronically around 5 AM – you grab Jeno’s hand.

And, in his sleep, he weaves your fingers together.

Attention, passengers: we are approaching Jeonju Station in five minutes. Please collect your items; we will be stopping shortly.

Jeno yawns awake, lulling his neck tall along the line on the backrest, kneading the kink in his spinal cord that keeps forming after he sleeps on your shoulder (he should really move onto your chest). Speaking of you, Jeno reaches at his sides, left and right, fingers dancing into the empty seats, not even finding his blazer. He peaks an eye open, wincing as the full morning light assaults his vision, then he actively looks for you, and finds you easily, already standing, pulling down your bags from the overhead hanger. A wheel jams on the railing, making you lean on your toes, shakily, to get it down, but you look unstable, so he immediately gets up, the second he sees your ankles wobble, and steadies you by your lower back, using one strong hand to bring down the luggage by its handle, his palm lingering too long.

The timing hasn’t been that great lately, these last few days – months, if he’s being honest. Like, yeah, you practically spend every waking moment together, a side effect of knowing each other since middle school and now working together on a project for urban revitalization in the lower Seoul district, but there are little things that still separate you from him. Not enough to make him feel as if you are drifting apart as best friends, as childhood friends; only enough for him to notice that he relies on you to be his personal comfort, his home away from home. And maybe, he thinks, this trip can recenter your relationship.

So, he starts by closing the distance.

Except, as strong as he might be, Jeno knows he is unaware of how much he uses at any given moment, and you tense in front of his hand, instinctively jolting up and hitting him square under the chin with the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” you scream, equally cringing and grabbing your hair, before finishing lamely, not knowing how to help, “sorry. You scared me.” You step into his personal bubble, practically into his chest, and grab his chin before he can cover up the temporary pain, holding him almost as long as he touched your back, except he didn’t have a valid excuse to you that long. He holds his breath, as if a doctor started the inhale-exhale stethoscope check, but you stop talking.

“You could’ve woken me up,” he tells you, moving your hand with his jaw, staring at your lips, willing you to talk or break the beat. “I know the bags are heavy,” he says, which translates to I would’ve helped you.

“Yeah, but you looked so cu … so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you until I absolutely had to.”

Jeno nods, fair; he’s done the same in the past when you were in college, especially after exam season, after you pull multiple all-nighters in a row but still make plans with your friends. Like, there was this one time, you stayed over at his apartment, a different one than he lives in now, one closer to Uni, for Haechan’s birthday party later, and you fell asleep on his bed while he played League with Jaemin and Jisung. He ended up waking you up about ten minutes after the party started, to give you a bit more than an hour of sleep. Needless to say, neither of you were the first to wish Haechan happy birthday, for which he only accepted monetary penance, but Jeno thought it was worth it, no amount of money enough, to see your smile refreshed and echoed in your posture.

“Hey, is that my blazer?”

You glance at the lapels, slightly raising your arm as well, as if you forgot that you were wearing it. “Yeah, sorry, I – I got cold.” You slowly take it off, shaking the sleeves off your shoulders. “Do you – Do you want– ?” Do you want it back?

“No,” Jeno interrupts, fixing his jacket by the lapels over your shoulders again. “It’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get hypothermia”

Once it situates correctly on your body, Jeno trails his hand up your arm, rubbing your bicep, sensing that the cold probably got to you, given that the loud air conditioner in the back contradicts the clear sunny sky. Then, the train stops, violently, and you both reach your arms out to steady one another, ultimately falling against the chairs, his waist pressed tightly against yours. You inhale sharply, first, and he copies you, hands brace above and below each other’s elbows. Neither of you really stand this close to each other, having too much respect for your friendship. He can name less than a handful of moments: 7 Minutes in Heaven at the beginning of 9th grade; an awkward dance at your first high school dance in 10th grade; truth or dare during sophomore year of college; accidentally pressing against you in the copy room at work after the shelves in the supply closet broke and the handyman shoved a thousand boxes next to the printer. Jeno doesn’t know what is different now; this, too, is probably another rare occurrence. He has loved you forever, never making a move, but …

“Th-thanks,” you whisper, quickly pulling away your hands.

There it is.

“No, um, no problem.”

Wordlessly, you go through the unloading motions: you stacking his backpack on the roller luggage, him taking the duffel bag that you claimed was heavy. Jeno closes the distance again, putting his hand behind the small of your back, walking you preemptively down the aisle. You slump against his palm, resting your cheek occasionally on his bicep as more people file out in the front, and he lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, because the fatigue is probably hitting you now that you have to force your body to move.

Once you get to the front of the train, an exit almost like a plane since you sat in the middle of the cart (not the most coveted place, since you can’t recline or get out quickly, but the easiest to snake), the conductor greets him:

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Jeno points at himself, lines forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” the conductor confirms, handing over a small bag of chocolate hearts. “I saved these for you.”

“Thanks?” He tilts his head to the side as he unwinds himself from you, accidentally bumping his elbow on your head, and accepts the candies with two hands – a clear bag of shiny pink and yellow Hershey’s mini-chocolate bars. “Why us– ?”

“Okay, thanks, have a good day!” you shout, pushing him into the station, barely stopping to bow before exiting the train.

Jeno manages to catch the conductor’s last words, something about good-bye and being cute. “Do you know what that’s about?”

“Nope,” you lie badly, and he gives you a skeptical look, which you ignore. “But fr-free chocolate.”

So he lets you ignore it, eating one. It tastes good, but he swears he hears you exhale in relief.

The layover in Jeonju lasts two hours, until a little after 10:30 AM, but it feels like two minutes.

You spent the entire time latched onto Jeno, supporting your caffeinated body through all the laughter and smiles – yours and his, as you surprised him with activity after activity, a thank you for coming, for willingly enduring gossipy aunties practically cross-examining him on the reception floor and drunk uncles at the karaoke machine who would otherwise be tone-deaf without the drinks in their hands. After the first activity – a short 30-minute session at a shooting range – Jeno picked you up with his knees, spinning you around outside the building, repeatedly crushing your torso between his beefy arms. And when he thought that was it, you Uber’ed to the Jeonjuchun River and rented a couple bikes next to one of the pretty pavilions (big mistake; you had to go back to the start and wait for him there because you couldn’t keep up without your ass catching on fire!). His dumb, wide smile made you want to keep going, plus you had a last planned surprise to grab coffee and pastries at the Mural Village, having called ahead two days prior to reserve a couple of their signature glazed donuts, his favorite.

So, it makes sense that when you get on the last train to Busan, exhaustion hits your entire body full force.

As Jeno packs the bags on the overhead hanger, you sit sideways on the chair, watching him, noting how his hoodie slightly rises, right under his belly button, confined neatly by the prominent outlines in his abs. To really sell whole ‘not-checking-out-your-best-friend’ bit, lean into the spine of the booth, lazily leaning your head against the leather cushion, half-closing your eyes, lazily leaning on your own shoulder, arms folded comfortably across your stomach. You don’t know where the lie and truth meet, but you still wear his blazer, and the earthy cologne keeps you awake, as a (poor) substitute for his proximity, until he kneels down next to you.

“Tired?”

You can hear the smile in his cheery voice.

“Mmhm.”

If he were Jaemin, you might’ve cancelled every surprise (or just not planned them) and accepted his offer to take a nap in the station while the next train arrives. If he were Renjun, you might’ve left later in the day, or the previous day, or maybe not even planned lunch with your cousin, since the two don’t really know each other that well. If he were Haechan, you might’ve gotten teased after the second you stared wobbling on your toes, needing his support to get you on the train, or he would have driven all the way to Busan in that newly painted car, taking turns at rest stops. But no, this is Lee Jeno, your best friend since middle school. You used to joke that you had a platonic crush on him, that you manifested being his best friend from the moment you saw him; you just didn’t know that it meant this.

“Short on words?” he jokes. Earlier, you were more talkative than him, a side effect of being as awake as he is now, before you ate a peanut butter jaffle, nearly falling asleep as you finished breakfast, like a child after Seollal dinner with the grandparents. “You had so much to say when you were willing to let me, your best friend, starve.”

You roll your eyes, leaving them closed when he takes his seat, offering his arm as a plushie for you to cuddle; you also shift your hips, invading his personal space to lean even deeper on him. “As if you would starve. How many donuts did you eat? Six? A dozen? How many sandwiches?”

“Are you calling me fat?”

You slide your arm across his abdomen, letting your hand dangle on the other side. “I’m saying you’re just giving me more surface area to hug.”

Jeno rolls his eyes, his entire head, mocking your actions from the first train ride, “Excuses.” You slap his chest, accidentally groping his pec (you were aiming for his arm), and leave your hand there, slowly dragging your wrist down his abs (again, not intentional – and hopefully he feels that way too) to hug his waist. He brushes your hair behind your head, equally running his thumbpad along the curve of your ear. “I got this one; take a nap.”

“You got the tickets?”

“Eung.” He pulls them out of his front pocket. “Freshly printed from the KTX terminal –“ He grabs your fingers, gently rubbing them between his like helping you wash your hands. “- ink smudged under your nails.” You groan when he drops your hand.

“Bags put away?”

“Yeah, all four of ‘em.”

“Make sure the pastries–”

“Shhh.” Jeno curls his hand over your mouth. And you are tempted to lick his palm, except your mouth is too dry, so you resign to breathing through your nose above his long fingers. “Sleep; I got this.”

“You know, these seats recline …”

“Shh,” he repeats, laying you back down on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, you wake up the next hour after a train attendant bumps your booth with her snack cart. Ironic, since you had a weird dream involving Haechan as a Domino’s delivery boy (even though he hates American fast food!), dropping off a pizza with all the pepperoni replaced by Jeno’s eye smile, and you paid using a ₩100,000 bill with Renjun’s college CSA (Chinese Student Association) presidential portrait in the middle. Eh, you’ve had weirder. Like that dream – after Jeno started working out more … diligently, in college – where you basically pounced his bones at the end of multivariate calculus in the middle of the lecture hall. That, and the one with a young Bill Nye.

You inhale deeply and push your palms on either side of your legs, inadvertently groping Jeno’s thigh in the process, making him jolt too, when you get yourself upright, leaning a little more on him than the chair.

“Everything good?”

“Hmm?” you yawn, stretching your limbs under his arm, which somehow blanketed you during the ride. You spare it a glance before looking up at him again and answering his question, “No, yeah, all good, just –” Another yawn escapes you. “– tired’s’all.”

Jeno squeezes your torso into his chest. “You can go back to sleep. We have a little more than an hour until Busan.”

You nod into his hoodie, almost accepting it.

Then an egg sandwich with your name scribble on it appears in front of your nose. And you reluctantly wake up, shaking Jeno off your shoulders as the train attendant hands you a small paper food-box, the lunch that you reserved with an extra ₩10,000, in case the jaffle place was closed on Thursday mornings. With the professional photos and multilingual descriptions, you practically could not say no to the gilgeori toast.

Except, you can and you do. One bite into the brioche, after the attendant leaves, you barf the mashed pellet onto a napkin, quickly washing away the taste with some water.

“Don’t like it?” Jeno teases, giggling loudly. Then he takes a bite of his caprese katsu sando and immediately regurgitates it into an empty paper cup on the table. “Oh, ew.”

The two of you exchange raised eyebrows and nod at each other, verbally confirming, “Switch.”

As you finish your second sando, of three, occasionally nibbling Jeno’s food, just to make sure that you really don’t like it, the train unexpectedly shuffles forward, making a fast stop as if it almost missed the station – not the Busan Station, which you aren’t sure whether to be happy about. On one hand, it would mean that the conductor almost missed your stop in Busan (literally impossible, since it is a major station), if you were in Busan; on the other hand, reality, it just jerks the entire cart, your bags and everything loudly jangling above. You hear the rumpled plastic tote bag, full of pastries from a local shop near the Mural Village, squish between the luggage bags, and you immediately get up to save them.

Jeno’s hands stabilize you as equally quick, when you crossover his legs to enter the aisle. His strong fingers dip into your skin that exposes after you grab the pastries, your hoodie lifting right below your belly button. You exhale shakily and look down at him. He concentrates on reading the stats on the game he lost when you got up. You come back on your heels. Then the train jolts again, stopping for real. And Jeno grabs you harder, probably more surprised than you, given the way his wide eyes ask if you’re okay. You nod, then dig through his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware in addition to the pastry bag, and take your seat again – all while aided by Jeno’s massive hand.

He takes the bag from you, holding it in front of him on the table, as you open the Tupperware, to check if everything was all good – no broken cookies.

“Oh, thank Go– Hey!”

Jeno takes one of the cookies with bigger chocolate chips, although the edges are distorted, curved out of shape. “Yum, I love your mom’s recipe.”

You frown, whining, “I made those for Jaehyun and Minghyu.” You pinch his arm, closing the box and taking the bag before he eats everything there, too. “Plus, you ate an entire bakery in Jeonju. How are you so hungry?”

“Nothing compares to a mother’s recipe.” Jeno bites into the cookie again. You cross your arms under your chest, trying to emulate your best mom-caught-him-with-his-hand-in-a-cookie-jar state. He doesn’t crumble, but he coaxes the last bite into your mouth, smiling after you comply.

You roll your eyes, sighing, “God, these are good.”

Jeno rolls his eyes too, munching on his last sando again. “I love that you’re so humble about your baking skills,” he laughs

But all you catch are the I love you and his crinkly eye smile.

Attention, passengers: we have arrived at the Busan station. Please gather your belongings and departure the train at your nearest exit.

The actual stop is even worse, if that’s possible, than the other 500 it took to get here. And Jeno finds that he doesn’t like this train very much – the stop is too abrupt, and there was no warning like the previous ride. He might even file give a comment or two on the feedback card, assuming there is a box somewhere for it. Once, he gave a thumbs-down on a YouTube video for not effectively helping him tie his boxer hand wrappings. Or, maybe, the driver sucks.

He just hates that you wobble so much every time you stand up in the cart, even though the ride is over now. Not that he hates helping you. He doesn’t mind, almost enjoys it, if he were being honest – holding your waist between his long fingers, under the guise of steadying you or warming you up, given that he never really gets to be this close to you. And he takes advantage of the moment, of your exhaustion, inhaling the remnants of your shampoo as you nestle into his chest, face first.

You mumble something incoherent against his shirt, then groan when he laughs.

Jeno pushes you back up, for less than a second because you fight him, trapping his waist in your arms. He laughs a little bit louder, and his shoulders rise to his ears, allowing him to hug you around your neck, practically suffocating you between his beefy biceps. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said –” You lift your chin, pouting at him through your eyelashes. “– the Uber will be here in five.”

“Oh, then should, um, should we …?” He gestures to the exit.

“Yeah,” you doze, shaking yourself off him, shoving your hands in his blazer pockets. Jeno frowns. He hopes you can get more sleep tonight, especially since the hotel is, like, 20 minutes away from the train station. “Let’s go wait over there.”

Jeno throws his arm over your shoulder, guiding the two of you through the automatic double doors, his hand hanging in the air above your chest. Outside, you slant onto him more, wrapping your arms around his waist again, turning your cheek on his pec, eyes half-closed too. He can smell his own cologne on your skin. But, scared that you might hear his heart skip a beat, Jeno rotates you into his neck, resting his face on your hair. He only gets half-a-second though, until your phone beep beeps, altering the Uber’s presence two meters away, which is even closer than he thought. Seems like everyone wants time with you, at his expense. But as the car pulls up, honking, confirming your ride, you yawn one more time and fix his hoodie, with your arms circling behind his head, before packing the luggage in the trunk. It takes Jeno another moment for his body to move. He waits until you have to pat the car seat to grab his attention – because no matter what, he’ll always leave an eye out for you, an ear open for you, an arm free for you. And he follows.

Everything goes fuzzy during the 15-minute drive (the driver took the freeway, rather than the streets), without an object to distract him. He basically ordered you to sleep, as if the car vibrations weren’t a strong enough lullaby, shushing you into the crook of his neck, like he leaves that place specifically for you.

“– cute couple.”

Jeno snaps his neck up. The driver’s – an older man – eyes reflect a smile through the rearview mirror, and he repeats it:

“You two,” he clarifies, “You look like a cute couple.”

The sentiment echoes later, again stealing the air from Jeno’s lungs, once you arrive to the hotel, accurately predicted by the app on your phone, not that he was counting down the meters until you arrived …

Jeno barely lets you thank the driver, shoving you through another automatic double doors set with renewed vigor. You give him a weird look that he cannot quite narrow down, so he ignores it, pointing to the front desk, unaware of how much time has passed, not wanting to block the entrance. You turn slower than him, and he thinks his cover has blown, that you will know that the Uber driver said something weird, something he has pondered since, basically, middle school. But instead of asking question, you answer the concierge’s questions: Name and ID? Credit card? Reservation for … two? Jeno taps his toes into the ceramic tile, tempted to pull out his phone, but he doesn’t, in case you need him.

Then, she makes the point that snaps his neck up again: “You two make a cute couple – oh,” she frowns, typing into the computer. “A room with two beds?”

“Yes,” you confirm, sounding like gritting through your teeth. Jeno cranes his neck forward to confirm, but as he does, the concierge grants you the room tickets and you move on, pulling him by the hand – interlaced fingers – toward the elevator, avoiding the topic.

Silently, again, Jeno follows you through Floor F to Room 23, only stopping when you roll his luggage in front of the TV and dresser. He copies you, unsure what to do or say without knowing exactly when Jaehyun, or Mingyu, will stop by for lunch; although he expects it to be soon. You put your hands on your waist, staring at the floor. He almost asks you what you’re thinking about, but you cross your arms under your chest, sheathing your hands under his blazer.

“S-sorry about that,” you whisper, so quietly that he has to step closer. “Be-because she thought that we, um, th-at we are –” You wince. Jeno reaches out, squeezing your shoulder, thumb rubbing harder to reassure you further. “– were a couple.”

“It’s o– ”

“The same thing happened with that train conductor.”

“What?”

Maybe he sounds too surprised, because you look mildly offended, mouth agape. And he pauses, for what feels like eternity, until you laugh. Then, he laughs. You sway forward a little bit, both hands landing on his chest. He catches you, steadies you, again, laughter fading into a smile.

“Sorry, about that,” Jeno apologizes honestly, by the tone of his voice: soft and comforting. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling like he owes you some sort of explanation. “I guess I was too close to you.”

But you disagree.

“No, it’s fine!” you reassure him right away, as if all his worries are ridiculous – which they might as well be, since you are his best friend (don’t tell Jaemin; although, Jaemin tends to be more affectionate than you in social settings, and they have been mistaken for a couple on quite a few occasions, even with you present). Then, you glance at your hands, darting between your fingers on his shoulders and his eyes. “I w-was probably too close to you to-too.”

And with that, you retract your hands.

But he catches them, puts them back.

“It’s okay,” Jeno promises, his palms stroking small circles into your waist. “The Uber driver also thought we were a couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes.

And in that beat, Jeno realizes that neither of you are like this with your friends – you don’t hang off his arm; he doesn’t spend an entire night staring at you from the corner of his eye – and neither of you were like this as kids – you weren’t each other’s first kiss; never have you been called out for cuddling, justifying it as “we’ve been doing this since we were young!”. But this could be the residual pent-up energy from forcing his body not to immediately find you in every setting. Like, his judgement can lax while the real world pauses outside the Busan border. You know, he has let you borrow his clothes from middle school through college, to now; he has held your hand across the sidewalk, making sure that you stay on the side furthest from the cars on the street; he has hugged and kissed (your forehead) and cuddled you in the past. And each time, he shoved any inkling of feelings back down.

“I –” Jeno starts, but you are too close to his face and words fail him. He needlessly brushes hair away from your face, as if the action would bring him clarity. It doesn’t; it gives him more questions than answers, especially in the way that you slowly crawl toward his face, eyes trained on his lips. Jeno returns it, mouth parted on the last syllable he said, shoulders falling down, down, down. He slides your hips over his, stuttering his hand onto your cheek, letting you rest in his palm, your head turned, ready if he closes the distance.

You lean forward on your toes, standing tallest on his shoulders. He mimics you, getting smaller, as a way of asking for your consent, and this time, you copy him – copy what he usually does – flickering your gaze to him until enough time has passed. You get closer … closer … closer …

Ping!

“S-s-sorry,” you mumble, pulling out your phone from your back pocket but not pulling away from him. Jeno bites the inside of his mouth, unsure whether to move, since you don’t. One breath escapes his lips, mutually breaking the moment. “It’s – It’s Jaehyun – Oh,” you exclaim, as if realizing the proximity for the first time. You step back, escaping his grasp, pointing toward the bathroom at the front of the room. “I-I sh-should get ready. He – He – Jaehyun, my-my cousin, um,” you stutter, shaking your head at the ground, “I don-I don’t know why I’m telling you that; you know him.” You grab your duffel bag, but it pounds the floor. Jeno thinks you weren’t aware of how heavy it is, and he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, -” You smile at him, hands pressing into your hips. “- he – Jaehyun – will be here in 30 minutes. I-I’m gonna go change an-and get ready in the bathroom. Yeah, uh, bye.”

You slam the door.

Another five minutes later, after he collapses on a bed, it hits him: Jeno almost kissed you.

Lunch goes off without a hitch. Mingyu picked an Italian place called La Bella Citta, which was originally meant to cater their wedding, until Jaehyun decided that he wanted traditional food at the reception. It is a pretty expensive place, hence why they paid (partially because you and Jeno are the siblings he never got). And the lunch followed a simple formula: Jeno makes a (bad) joke; Jaehyun brings up an unrelated anecdote, chuckling prematurely at just the thought; Mingyu laughs too hard, accidentally spilling champagne; and you get a bunch of memories, smiling fondly as Jaehyun cleans Mingyu’s shirt with a Tide pen.

Well, there was this one thing.

Your risotto didn’t taste very good – the rice was overcooked; butter had been added over oil; the dish lacked its creamy texture, more soupy in consistency. Thankfully, Jeno exchanged half his steak with you (not the tenderloin part, of course). No one would have noticed; had you not been so obviously gawking at him for the gesture, because it sparked Mingyu’s clumsy ass to comment something about doing the same for Jaehyun in the past. And then Jeno turned it into a competition for which of them has exchanged more meals with the Jung family (although you don’t share the same last name; you are part of the family by extension).

While they battled it out, with Jeno winning since he did take your egg sandwich on the train earlier, Jaehyun poked you in the arm. “So you brought him?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just thought you might bring Jaemin or Renjun – I never see Renjun, and he buys really good gifts.”

You snorted. Yeah, right. Renjun bought a choco pie for Jaemin’s birthday, like, at midnight, from a convenience store; he bought Jeno PJs, even though Jeno doesn’t wear pyjamas (you can attest); and he bought you a thrifted candle holder which broke after you put an electric candle in it. If Jaehyun wanted a good wedding gift, he should have told you to bring Jaemin. Still, you would’ve brought Jeno; like, no matter what, you would have asked Jeno first, and he would always say yes. Even during that awkward orientation week in college when his physics professor caught him shotgunning two beers at the same time right before class (it happened twice); you begged him to go to office hours with you, needing constant reassurance that you did not, in fact, sound like an idiot.

“And I thought you liked Jeno,” you frowned.

“No, I do; probably not as much as you, but of course I do. If you didn’t tell me before the wedding invites went out, I would’ve sent one to him myself.”

After that, everything everywhere happened all at once; you didn’t have time to contradict him, or self-reflect – Mingyu spilled more champagne; Jeno leaned his arm behind your chair, using his other hand to pull you closer, to help you avoid touching the entering wedding party; Jaehyun tilted his big ass forehead at you knowingly. You were almost relieved to head back to the hotel, instantly collapsing on your bed without changing out of your Sunday finest clothes instead of responding to Jaehyun’s cryptic observation.

“I’m dead; I’m dead,” you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the golden hour seeping into your room. Dramatically, you fall backwards onto your bed, relaxing your entire body into the comforter. You peak under your arm to find Jeno when he doesn’t respond, and he smiles back at you, hanging up his blazer before taking a running start.

“Oof!” Jeno flops like a fish beside you, covering his eyes too. “All of us are dead,” he jokes, referencing the drama he started last week. You started it first, binging it a couple days after it aired, but when he told you about it, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d already seen it and watched half the season with him. It became part of your daily lunch routine, not that you know how long it will last. Your urban revitalization project is temporary, a bit long term temporary, spanning until maybe October, but still temporary.

You shift onto your side, hands folded in prayer under your head as a pillow, scanning his peaceful face. “Hey,” you whisper tentatively. You wait another few seconds (maybe even a minute) before opening your mouth, hand reaching out to touch him. “Jen, I –”

“Yeah?” his voice rasps.

“I j-just wanted to thank you for coming with me today,” you change your mind, recoiling before he opens his eyes, which he does, peering at you with the same wide curiosity as the day you met him, “And switching meals with me all day. I – I –” You inhale. “– I really appreciate it, really … appreciate you.” You whisper the last bit, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

But he does.

“Of course,” he tells you, like he could never say no. And suddenly, you cannot recall an instance when he has ever denied you the thing – he shares his food with you; he helped you spontaneously paint your apartment at 3 AM; he gives you his clothes at the crack of dawn. “You’re my best friend.” Now you can remember the moments – he wouldn’t do the laser tag tournament with you (and Jaemin); he turned down your invite to The Griffin Bar; and worst of all, he outright refused to go to Renjun’s Single’s Appreciate Day party with you. “I’d do anything you ask.”

You roll onto your back, facing the ceiling, and close your eyes.

“Jen-Jen-Jen-Jen-Jeno, Oh!” your rapid legato whimpers wake Jeno up.

First, his body reacts, an involuntary twitch from his feet to head. Next, everything above his torso moves, his arm covering his eyes. He turns into his elbow, away from the window that isn’t as bright as he thought it would be. He, then, remembers that he, somehow, fell asleep on your bed, or you two fell asleep on the same bed; neither of you really got the chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements, since yesterday had so many activities. Not that it mattered, or was a bad thing; you did spend the previous night in his apartment, in his bed. Granted, you slept feet to head, him on top of the duvet with another blanket.

Jeno drops his arm down his cheek, cautiously opening an eye to the other half of the bed.

His hand and jaw fall.

You moan his name again, mouth gaping at the ceiling, eyes twisted shut while your back arches off the mattress. At some point in the night, you must’ve changed, or you wore that lingerie set under your dress the entire time at lunch. Jeno cannot help it; his eyes find your tits spilling out of your teeny-tiny mesh cups that don’t look like they would cover up very much skin anyways. He tries to move to your face, but his willpower fails, and he looks for the source of your moans: your hand between your legs. Unfortunately, you still wear the matching, lacy panties, and your palm hides just how wet you are, the other fisted into the sheets by his thigh.

Jeno bites his lip. Why would you wake him up like this? Do that next to him? … Unless …?

Experimentally, Jeno leans onto you, pressing his still-clothed chest over you bare arm, the one attached to the blanket, clawing it roughly. He kisses your shoulder, ghosting his index finger down your naked stomach. Your moans get louder, more encouraging, so he doesn’t stop. God, Jeno wonders how you have this pornographic glow at golden hour, before the day even starts, that he cannot get enough of. You arch further off the bed, into his touch, making his fingers pad deeper into your skin, increasing their pressure until he gets to your pussy. He cups around your hand, guiding the way you grind into your own hand. But desperate for more movement, maybe more of him, you scissor yourself. And he can feel it, feel your knuckles flex, forcing your thighs separate for the deepest stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“To-touch me, please, Jeno, touch me.”

Jeno inserts his fingers with yours, simultaneously rutting his fully erect penis on your leg, which makes him realize that he is too clothed, but he doesn’t want to pull away from you. Instead, he straddles one of your legs, grabbing the opposite side of your neck. Blindly, using his tongue to find your most prominent vein, he sucks at your throat. He kisses you, kisses your neck, sloppily, repeatedly, until you whine even louder. Jeno has to break away, moaning into the air, his chest sweating through the white whore shirt. The two of you might get a noise complaint; is it bad that the potential turns him on? He barely gets to return to your neck, barely gets to make that wet mark even more tender, when you reverse the positions.

You push him back down, temporarily, just long enough to flip your hair over your shoulder and climb his waist. And apparently, he makes a strangled sound, because you release his shirt, smoothening out the wrinkles, mumbling something about buying him a new one later, but the entire action makes more of your hair fall down, so Jeno sits up quickly. You slide down his lap, only stopped by his long, thick cock standing under his pants. His dick outlines your ass curve, pushing your cheeks further apart. With the new position – the better position – he shoves your hair back, fisting it into a ponytail the same way you fisted the sheets, exposing your neck again. He starts a new hickey, too impatient to find the last one (it is on the other side), sucking his way down. Your bra straps fall down your biceps at this point. The plastic little adjuster springing free with your tits as Jeno bounces you in front of his cock, too much acceleration rolling your body on top of his chest that he has to force his body to slow down before he cums prematurely. He wants to cum inside you.

The decision to end the foreplay, the juvenile grinding, occurs when you rip his shirt open, mumbling something about buying him another later. Your nipples rub on his pecs, almost purposefully missing his, circling around the areola. He grunts throatily, catching your ass and pulling your cheeks apart, slapping them twice, fast, as a punishment for your sopping pussy teasing him, ghosting his cock.

“I want you,” he breathes, “I want you so bad.”

“Then, fuck me.”

Jeno hooks a finger around your panties, moving his knuckle slowly over your clit until your legs shake as much as his do. He gives you a quick look, a quick kiss, before lifting you on your knees, positioning his cock between your legs. You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself with his hand on your hip. He gets halfway in your pussy, the both of you throwing your heads back, moaning to the ceiling. After a brief recovery, he trusts in all the way.

Jeno stutters his hips down, preparing the next thrust, his eyes shut tighter than your pussy walls around his dick.

Then, he wakes up. For real.

He jumps, in a cold sweat, the birds chirping outside. And maybe, Jeno should be concerned now. Initially, he just looked for you, as the first thought crossing his mind while he opened his eyes – eg, when you slept over at his apartment, feet to head, him too scared to sleep next to you in case he accidentally confesses murder, or close to, during his sleep; when he slept on your shoulder in the train; this current moment.

Yeah, technically, he is in your bed – hotel bed, but still. Jeno fumbles around the mattress, untangling himself from the blanket that you probably put on him last night. When he stands up, in the small aisle between the beds, unbuttoned pants slipping off his waist, the hem covering half his feet, he recognizes that these are yesterday’s clothes, from the lunch with Jaehyun and Mingyu. He stumbles toward the night, every part of his body warm, his cock burned by the teasing memory of almost pounding you in the very bed he just woke up in. Of course it was a dream; it was too good to be real. Jeno grumbles, palming the small table for his glasses. As he puts them on, he finds the hotel stationery branded with your messy handwriting:

Left for coffee xx be back in 30 ♡

Jeno nods his head. Half an hour. The other half of the bed was vaguely warm, he remembers. He looks to the other bed – still made, pressed enough to bounce a ₩500 coin off. Evidently, you fell asleep next to him, too, and even though he cannot recall who fell first, he can recall who woke up first and how he woke up. His cock writhes, twitches under the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, no longer swinging between his legs; it wants to know how deep your vaginal canal is, and Jeno steadies it, groaning because he spent half the day steadying your pretty waist. The thought makes him involuntarily squeeze tighter, makes him realize that his underwear constricts the blood flow that rushes to his cock head, stopping at the base like a spiteful cock ring. So, he frees his entire length, shimmying his bottoms below his ass, and hops onto the empty bed, with what he assumes is enough time to finish what his dream started.

Focusing on the upper half, Jeno dry rubs his tip, roughly massaging his finger around the head, expediting his orgasm like a college freshman testing out the sock-on-the-door myth with a solo session. His fingers curl tightly around the circumference, slowing down his thrusting. Pre-cum quickly dribbles above his navel, leaking into little pools in the crevices of his defined abs. He slathers it along his entire cock, twisting his palm up and down, moans loudly bouncing off the walls. The wetness creates the foundation for his fantasy, conjuring the image of an equally moist mouth choking down his fully length, your mouth choking down his full length. Jeno knocks his head on the wall, whole body panting into the air. His hips float, too, and he chases his hand, a poor replacement for pussy or a sex toy; ass coming off the blanket as sweat builds up on his body. He unbuttons half his shirt, sliding his fingers to his nipple. That familiar tension in his stomach creeps into his chest, and his moans get more desperate, louder.

Then, as if his dream were a premonition, you come out of the bathroom, wearing a low-cut sports bra and matching tight, black leggings.

“Ah!!” you both scream.

A beat passes, maybe an hour, Jeno cannot discern between his exhibition rising and your gaping mouth.

You react first, running into the bathroom.

“I thought you were out getting coffee?!” he shouts, covering his dick with the blankets. It twitches underneath.

“Why would you think that?!” you scream back, before calming down and cracking the door open a little bit, “I got back five minutes ago. I was putting stuff in the bathroom for my shower.” God, his dick really twitches. He might even cum untouched. You sound like the beginning of a bad porno, and maybe his fantasy was an actual bad porno, but the thought of you, with so much exposed skin, willing to expose more skin under hot water. “Why are you –”

“I thought I had time!” he interrupts. He stands up and pulls his pants on, silently screaming at his boner to go away. It doesn’t. And he resigns, praying that you won’t see it. “I thought I would hear you bring me a coffee too and have time t-to-to cover it up.” You usually buy him a coffee too; you did it all four years through college – barged through his heavy apartment door, or announced it, pressing the iced coffee on any bare skin available.

“It’s in the fridge! I didn’t want to wake you after yesterday.” You slowly come out of the bathroom, and he turns around, wincing when his still-hard penis bounces against his hip. “It’s an iced coffee,” you tell him, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact. You cross the room toward the mini fridge. Jeno sucks in a breath. The coffee is inside. Of course it is.

When Jeno coughs, you immediately turn around then look away as equally fast, having accidentally made eye contact with his penis (and him with your tits, again, just like in his dream). “Do you, um, do you still want to take a shower first, o-or can I, um, get in there?” He scrunches his nose at the poor choice of words.

“N-n-y-you can go first,” you stutter through a mirrored cough.

His shower lasts the half hour he thought he had.

Overcoming awkwardness has, surprisingly, never come up in your relationship with Jeno, not even through the ungainly middle school phase, during when you confidently kept your fleeting crush on him a secret. Well, you hoped it was a fleeting crush. Those feelings bubbled up on and off for years, and currently, they were on. Last time they turned off (aka when you suppressed them), Jeno had a girlfriend, a long-term girlfriend, for two years. You thought you were in the clear, thought you were over it, permanently, especially after they got stupidly expensive promise rings, but habits are hard to break. And you crawled right back to him.

You step out of the bathroom, towel shaking out the water droplets from your hair, casually dressed like you arrived from Hongdae. The oversized shirt doesn’t stick to your skin as much as your sports bra earlier after your quick run in the streets, or the blouse that you nearly sweated through at lunch yesterday as the afternoon temperature increased to accommodate for spring. You jump on your bed. Well, you guess this is your bed, the one closest to the entrance and bathroom, because Jeno … occupied the other one. You glance at it, instinctively hiding your hands under your tousled covers, then shake your head. As you look away, you see your handwriting on the hotel stationery crossed out in perfectly straight lines (a symptom from majoring in architecture, you know) above Jeno’s cursive:

Went down to the lobby for breakfast. It ends at 11.

You flicker at the digital clock beneath a disconnected lamp: 10:05 AM. Still early. You got up some time around 5:30 or 6, your body absorbing too much sleep, having passed out almost right after getting back to the hotel from lunch. Unfortunately, Gwangbok-Dong doesn’t open until mid-morning, about 10:30, so you couldn’t buy a wedding gift yet (you have an envelope of cash for the reception, but Jaehyun added a registry link qr code on the invites). You also hoped to give Jeno more time to sleep, knowing that he must’ve gotten five interrupted hours total in the span of 36 hours. Shopping without him would have knocked out a chore, the only chore really, and then you two could buy him a tie or just wander around the area, which, come to think of it, costs a lot of money. It costs money to breathe, Jeno once joked during an ECON 305 lecture sophomore year, so now, you might as well take advantage of the complimentary bibmbap.

By the time you get downstairs, the chefs have disappeared, and only three plain bibimbap dishes remain amongst the sparse assortment of other breakfast snacks. At least this moment has somewhat perfect timing; you didn’t have very good timing earlier when you caught Jeno with his dick in hand (or did he not have good timing? You have no idea). You snake around the buffet-style tables, picking up a small mango juice and a few side dishes in addition to the main. Once you have a decent portion, you walk toward the half-empty seating area, scanning the chairs for a place to sit. You kinda look like a new high school transfer student searching for a clique – do you sit with the band geeks and their giant brass instruments? Do you sit with the chem nerds and finish the homework that’s due tomorrow? Or do you latch onto the one person you vaguely know so that people don’t stare at you for standing too long?

Yeah, you immediately find Jeno playing some cart rider game on his phone under the table. Nice to know that the sentiment is returned, ha.

“He-hey,” you mumble, clanging your tray on the metal table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Jeno looks up at you and puts his phone in his pocket. He gestures to the seat already pulled out, as if it were waiting for you. “Yeah, of course.”

You eat a few bites, hoping that the tension will go down the longer you are in his presence, but he fidgets by your side, rubbing his feet together loudly over the wood flooring. He gives you an apologetic stare, waiting for you to break first. Slowly, you finish chewing part of the egg and wash it down with juice, equally marveling at him, unsure how exactly to say alright, we both know that I caught you masturbating and you probably finished off in that not-so-short shower without (1) scarring the other guests and (2) completely altering your relationship. Like, you didn’t even have sex!

“About this morning,” you start, “I should’ve knocked.”

“No, no.” Jeno shakes his head. “I should’ve … not … done … that. We’re sharing a room for the weekend, an-and it’s your space as much as mine. I’m sor-”

“I mean,” you interrupt, pushing your spoon around the bowl of rice, “it happens. You – Guys get … those,” – morning wood, hard-ons, boners – “an-and it’s not like you were thinking about me. I get it.”

Jeno makes a strangled noise, so you whip your head at him. Suddenly, you notice his proximity, and you push all the way back into your chair, accidentally skidding it across the floor. Your eyes go wide, eyebrows more talkative than your sputtering mouth. You aren’t stupid; he knows that, but Jeno is too honest for his own good, even at the expense of his own thoughts. He bites his lip, evidently saying more than intended, and that is how you have known him for the last decade – overly blunt, blurting out his thoughts easily, every answer written on his face, stuck on the tip of his tongue.

And you cannot help yourself when the memory of his massive cock resurfaces, his pre-cum pooled at the neglected slit as his fingers massage right under the head. Your fight-or-flight response activated before you could make a conscious move to take the leap, to get even closer on him than the train allowed. You wonder, breath hitched, whether you idealize his cock – whether he idealized sex with you. On your end, it has been a while since you last got laid, a couple months, bit of a dry spell hitting you at the start of this new urban revitalization project to fix up the arts district around the SeMA. The initial funding took some convincing, both the government and museum not seeing the necessity, but once your team got the ball rolling and you were able to pull in Jeno, the lead architect, and Renjun, a graphic designer, you figured that time would be more in your favor.

That was not the case.

Your team leader divided the project based on skill-level, meaning that you had to cooperate on the ground level with Jeno and Renjun, planning every move from point A to point B. So, while half your coworkers enjoy hoesik, probably out there hitting on clubgoers and getting laid, you stay at the office past witching hour, hunched over blueprints and maps and expense reports. The only saving grace, really, is working with your best friend. … Your best friend who just inadvertently admitted that he jerked off to the thought of you. … Your best friend whose dick you currently think about, trying to revisualize whether you remember it correctly. Maybe you need a refresher.

“We don’t,” Jeno clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, hands rubbing on his jeans, “um, we don’t need to talk about it.”

You bite your tongue.

Because you do want to talk about.

Geotechnical engineering, in college, was easy. Jeno received A-level marks all three terms, nearly a 100% in the second term. Designing a new plaza around the SeMA, for your project, was easy. Jeno got his first design approved by the MOLIT and the Cultural Heritage Administration, based on a 4AM napkin sketch. Fuck, even finding your G-spot in his dream was easy (although, credit is due to the movie magic directed by his subconscious). But all of those have something in common: a template. You know, like, engineering follows a basic algorithm, as do project designs. And he’s had years of experience giving people orgasms, even made a few squirt, so he can just manipulate a technique to best suit your pussy.

With this, with you, with the real you, Jeno doesn’t know what to do, or where to start, when you are so close to him, concentrating on straightening out the main knot in the tie you wrap around his neck. I’ll buy you a new one echoes in his mind, the assurance you whispered in his dream, now that you are actually out shopping. He can smell your own body wash this time, compared to the cologne on his blazer in the train station. And you probably don’t even know how hard it was for him, then, to not kiss your neck. Maybe that’s why his subconscious creates a pattern out of it: bring you close (like at on the KTX), taunt him in his dream (give him the kiss he wanted and set up something more), bring you close again.

It took a moment, both times, to actually build up tension. The first time, he scarcely kept his eyes open, couldn’t really appreciate your body, half-tired, half-scared; probably why his subconscious went easy on him last night, as if having mercy for all the dick veins in his heart. And when he caved, you caught him. Jeno spent the better part of this shopping excursion keeping his distance – e.g., even though you browsed home appliance stores together, he walked a few meters behind you, only stopping to make commentary:

“What if we get them an air fryer?” he suggested, to get out of there as soon as possible and relieve the awkwardness.

You refuted, “They already have an air fryer. Mingyu bought one, since Jaehyun can’t cook.” Right. “Makes him feel like Baek Jongwon.”

So, you settled on a nonstick, ceramic, pink Always Pan set (in addition to the cash envelope) that Mingyu might get more use out of and help lessen the dish load. But you let Jeno pick the color.

“There,” you finish, eyebrows unfurrowing. You turn him toward the adjacent mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t immediately scrutinize your work (not that it was necessary; you have been tying his ties for formal events since MUN championships in high school). Your hands linger, warm, on his shoulders, falling slightly on his pecs. Then, you let go, palms up as if an AED machine alerted you about the next incoming shock. “I’ll either do this same knot –” A cape knot. “– or an Eldridge knot, depending on which dress I choose, but both look good for a solid color tie, like this one.”

“What about a trinity knot?”

Jeno cannot believe that he is making small talk with his best friend about the various types of knots; the same best friend who vomited into a cup 0.2 seconds after entering a bar, resulting in your entire group getting kicked out, and then fell asleep on the sidewalk outside, resulting in a cop arresting all seven of you for the night because you made it seem like you were all blackout drunk. Your relationships survived that whole mess, despite everyone losing the ₩25,000 entrance fee (although, Haechan and Renjun refused to go out with you for, like, a month). Most importantly, your relationship with him survived that; actually your relationship with him didn’t even take a hit. He nursed you back to health the next day, which might have, or not, been a symptom of his excessive drinking – tucking you into bed with a thousand blankets, bringing you 35 water bottles, taking your temperature every 4 minutes.

“Mmm,” you consider, fixing your gaze back at his neck. “Probably not. It’s not really formal enough for a wedding, and I’m already on the fence about an Eldridge knot, in case Jaehyun or Mingyu want to wear one – it’s like if I wore a white dress to their wedding. People would think that we were getting married.” Jeno raises an eyebrow and is met with silence. You drop into your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a forced laugh bubbling through your esophagus. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” he reassures you. He should be sorry, for making you deal with his emotions. “You could, um, tie it change it at the wedding hall, or, um, at the reception. I don’t think I’ll end up wearing it all night.”

“Or you could learn how to tie something better than a half-Windsor,” you tease, slowly lifting your head.

An identical smile breaks onto his face. “It’s a classic for a reason!”

“Call it what it is: basic.”

“I haven’t had to learn how to do other knots!” Jeno pushes your shoulder, laughing when you do. “Besides, it’s never about my clothes. I’m just the accessory, your arm candy.”

Your giggles fade, then almost as if remembering the distant morning, you separate from him. And he has to close the distance again. He tentatively reaches for your hand, boldly threading your fingers together. You don’t react, instead choosing to focus on the glass display case under the mirror. Your hair moves just a little, the strands loose from your ponytail blowing, slightly, in the wind. His hand could replace it – the hair tie – if you wanted (it’s what his subconscious wants), but you focus on the glass display case under his reflection. You fiddle with the blade of a tie that you both rejected earlier (ha, you seem to be rejecting a lot of things today). The color didn’t suit his skin tone or the garden wedding theme; Jaehyun made sure to include a sample of his bouquet in every invitation. How is he going to be a good wedding date, to you, if you can barely look at each other?

“Did I sa–?”

“Let’s buy this one,” you decide, interrupting him simultaneously. You pull the purple off him, as if un-marking him. Another stark contrast to his dream, which has him wondering whether his fantasies are boring. “Then, we can get dinner at that bistro down the road. I know you’ve been craving steak, and Jaehyun is doing a chicken-or-fish style reception.”

Jeno shakes his analog watch into view: 3:27 PM. You finished breakfast before noon. Should you leave now, you might be able to finish dinner just as quickly (or long), based on your pace eating bibimbap, and grab coffee before the café by the hotel closes.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

Jeno pays for the tie and an extra two white dress shirts (just in case), as well as a chocolate bar from the tiny stand at the register, stacked near the gift cards. You thank him, but it is the least he can do – (1) he feels really bad for this morning, and (2) you essentially paid for every other part of this trip except the food. He reassures you that you need not apologize; you are his best friend, but then you throw that back in his face when he brings up money. Both of you keep parroting “don’t worry, it’s fine” at each other, only to retreat into awkward silence.

You hold the shop entrance open for him, gesturing him out the door, then walk a pace behind him. The medium-sized, paper shopping bag swings between the two of you; well, it would, if he stood next to you.

Jeno stops.

“What are we doing?”

You pause too, body freezing mid-motion for a second, then you look over your shoulder, eyes looking him up and down. When his head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow, you turn around.

“We’re going to the bistro,” you answer, as though it were obvious.

But Jeno already knows that. He made the plans with you half an hour ago. “No, I mean this. Why are we –” He shakes his head again; he knows why, too. His reflection in a department store catches his eye, so he pulls you from the middle of the sidewalk around the corner, somewhat hidden behind another building. “What are we doing?”

“Jeno … are you okay?”

“I’m serious! We practically spend every day together, it feels desolate when you’re gone, and … and –” He steps into your personal bubble. “You’re not here with me right now.”

“Jen,” you drag out his name, looking away from him, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You are not hearing him.

Jeno cautiously withdraws his hands from his bomber jacket. His nails accidentally scratch the pocket inner lining, giving him a chance to back out, to reconsider his declaration. But he doesn’t need a second chance; he just needs the first chance. So, instead, Jeno grabs your palm, inching his fingers up your elbow, and scans your eyes. Without resistance, you draw him closer at his waist. The shopping bag falls down low on your wrist, drumming against his thigh and yours. He feels your leave his waist and slide up his cheek; he has to close his eyes, not entirely believing the way his body betrays him, leaning into your face.

“I … I …” he pants, head spinning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assuage. He can feel your breath on his lip, so he sucks in air, lips parted slightly, scared he might ask for too much. And maybe that is where you get a signal – get the signal – because he feels you rise to the tips of your toes and kiss him. “Let’s just order room service.”

Why did you say that? Let’s just order room service. The suggestion prolonged the time before you could kiss him again, because once you got back to the hotel, heels practically floating off the ground, you had to wait.

Luckily, the hotel was just around the corner. If you ran, you would have been upstairs in 10 minutes, but the two of you took your time, practically strolling through Gwangbok Road. He walked beside you this time, his pinky occasionally grazing behind your hand.

And in the elevator, Jeno became bolder. His entire body, previously trembling, gravitated toward you, latching onto every part that you would allow, and you gave him permission, made it known that you wanted him to touch you. You almost pressed him into the reflective wall, trapping him on the cold metal railing, but you restrained yourself; you already made that initial move: kissing him (well, it was the next move, since you caught him masturbating, earlier, to the thought of you. Then, he was the first person out the elevator, practically dragging you into the bedroom, nearly detaching your arm. Outside your hotel room, Jeno kissed you. Your hips knocked beside the key swipe, making it easy to fumble the key card out of your pocket and through the lock. You didn’t open the door immediately, choosing, instead, to stand on your toes, and wrap your arms behind his neck, essentially climbing him, like a tree, in the empty hallway, the shopping bag floundering on his back. Jeno paused the kiss, trailing his lips away, ghosting his breath on your tongue. His gaze flickered from your parted mouth to your eyes, and you saw his dilated pupils grow bigger. He pointed his eyebrows to the green light, right before it turned red. You scanned his face for another rejection, and seeing none, you opened the door.

But once you got inside, Jeno sat you on the bed, perching you where you fell asleep next to him last night. You dropped the shopping bag and your jacket to the floor, staring up at him the entire time, hopefully inviting. While he towered over you for this second, you admired your work – bruised lips, static hair, flushed skin, even his breath bated. Subconsciously, you touched your bottom lip, dragging it down to see if it were equally swollen (it was). Jeno took a step forward, but changed his mind, ordering room service from the restaurant downstairs through the phone on the nightstand.

Now, you flicker your gaze over his body, checking him out like a man who convinced his foreigner girlfriend not to dress modestly at the clubs. Your eyes flicker slower, up his tiny waist (that makes his flat ass appear a little plump) to his strong biceps, sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin, back to his lips, which mumble a swift thank you before returning to the edge of the bed. You slide to the very tip, spreading your legs wide open enough for him to stand between. Jeno curls his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin, maybe admiring your features too. You hope that you look equally disheveled.

Jeno gently pins you on the bed, slithering up your torso, brushing his pecs on your tits. He grabs your waist, fingers dipping toward your butt, dragging you to meet his pelvis.

“You have to tell me,” he says, eyes closed, millimeters from kissing you again, “right now, that you want this, want me, before we do anything more.” His thumb comes under your shirt, drumming an indiscernible beat directly on your stomach, just around your belly button, almost unsure which direction to go – toward your pants, toward your bra, outside your shirt. Your breath hitches, and you feel your body sink lower into the mattress. “I need to know that we’re on the same page.”

“Can’t you feel it?” You guide one of his hands down your pants, his long middle phalanges driving cautiously into the seam. He cups your pussy, falling level on your chest. His lungs pant heavily into the back of your neck, tickling the hairs into standing up. “I want you.”

Jeno chases your lips, barely managing, “Not what I meant.” With your consent, he kisses you again, and you, consumed by his undivided heat, ignoring everything that isn’t his touch, like the white sheets rusting under your long hair as his shirt grinds into your abdomen, riding your clothes up. He hooks a hand under your thigh, switching the positions for you to straddle him. His legs stretch forward, feet planting into the ground, which gives him the leeway to sit up and brush your hair back into a makeshift side ponytail. Jeno scans your eyes, darting side-to-side, all the tension melting away after you smooth his shoulders. “I … I …”

You caress his cheek, having mercy on his dick (currently hard under your ass), and lift his chin higher. “I know what you meant.” You press your lips into his, chastely. He responds, puckering his lips each time you peck him, but he also frowns – frowns deeply enough for you to really pull away; his frown looks more intense than you felt. “I …” you whisper, sliding your arms on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. You teeter on your knees, shifting your weight across his lap. He stops you. “I like you so much. More th-than friends.” Then you kiss him again, to wipe your confession away, because you can live with it. You can live with the repercussions of his mistake; you can be his mistake. This doesn’t have to be a whole thing. You don’t need to finish your confession with his rejection.

Jeno whimpers your name, tugging you away by your hair. “I –”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, “You don’t need to say it. Just me –”

“No, I need to –” He sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You shake your head, an actual mistake because he freezes; you only meant it in disbelief. So, you lower down again, sliding your hands under his jaw. You turn your head to the side and mumble, “Don’t stop,” before reconnecting.

Jeno pats his palm on your pussy. His opposite hand, the one above your hip, fingers your waistband, scratching continuous circles, waiting for an affirmation. “I meant kiss you here.” He pouts at you through his eyelashes. “Can I kiss you lower?”

You shimmy off his lap, pushing him into the bed. “Everywhere,” you answer hastily. He helps you glide off your pants, and his veiny hands are all you can concentrate on, everything else blurring until he fondles your clit, above your black panties.

“Do you like this?”

“God, yes,” you pour moans into his mouth, holding his throat straight, like a tall glass for iced tea. When he inserts a single, long digit between your wet pussy lips, he winces, as if being penetrated himself, as if you found his prostate on the first try without any lube other than your spit. He adds a second finger, his longest finger, the middle finger, the ‘fuck you’ finger (literal in this case), prompting you to hump his hand. Your hips roll forward, increasing intensity. You gasp when he scissors his fingers wider and crosses them over one another, like a promise, then you bounce higher, your ass cheeks squeezing together. “Fuck, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Jeno slips in another digit, curling all three forward, his ring finger (the free one) twitching unrestricted. “I guess there’s still a bit you don’t know about me,” he blows into your gaping mouth, your moans following his rhythmically to the beat of some song you cannot think of while riding him.

You sink all the way down his hand, grinding your clit on his palm, and take off your shirt. Before your tits can spring free, Jeno pulls you close, trying to suck marks above your bra. You grate broken ah, ah, ahs, growing louder whenever his fingers sheath completely inside you. As if goading you, he slaps your jiggly ass, twice for every once you shake down. You yank Jeno away by his hair, darting through his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, his narrowed eyes. Under you, his dick twitches.

“Should I –“ you pant, slowly stopping on his hand. But he seems not to like that response and drives his fingers back up. “Can I,” you correct, “ah, ah – Can I help you with-with that?”

“I want you to cum.” Jeno squeezes your ass cheek, and you fall into his lips again. Your tongue falls out, stiff, virtually asking for something to occupy your mouth. He takes his free hand, shoving it between your lips, pushing your tongue down, saliva pooling under his fingerprint. “Are you close, pretty girl?” His hand moves faster, rougher. Your thighs twitch. “Feels like it.” Your panties threaten to slip back into place, so he rips it. “Sorry,” he mumbles carelessly. You don’t blame him, too focused on your legs tensing up but his thumb on your tongue pushing you back down.

“Don-don’t worry,” you whimper, “I, ah-uh, have a – ah – nother pair. They’re also black, fuck, but lace. Hides better under my-my dress.” You skid lower down his waist, and his cock stands up on your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to ruin me.”

“Untouched?”

“Maybe.”

However, you don’t like the thought, considering it unfair – unfair to him that he has to settle for a cheap orgasm; unfair to you that you cannot milk him dry between your thighs. So, you descend his legs, prying him open at the knee. You spare it a glance, covered by his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bend over it, ass in the air, spanked harder.

“Hey,” Jeno calls, snapping you back to attention. You relieve your thighs, unclenching, to stare at him. “Is this –” he inhales sharply, possibly trying to come off nonchalant, like it would be okay if you decided to stop, decided that you didn’t want this anymore; you swoon. “Is this still okay?”

“Of course.” You meet his eye. “Always.” You loop the tops of your fingers under his waistband, above his Calvin Kleins, the name brand embroidered as thick as his veins leading under it. “Can I help you with this?”

“God, yes, please,” he finally answers, throwing his head back on the pillows.

You unzip his pants, the sound bouncing off all four walls without any moans to cushion it; you could practically hear a pin drop. Jeno props himself on his elbows, and his abs crunch forward, tightening his impeccably defined six pack. Like, you already knew – since college – that he sculpted his body at the gym like Pygmalion did Galatea, but it adds pressure, not because your hand wraps around his cock (you have yet to touch him), rather because his gaze burns holes through your hands.

“You don’t,” he mumbles, “You don’t have to take it all. If you can’t. You don’t.” Jeno shakes his head, his hair shyly hiding his eyes. “I just want you, so it’s o – Fuck.”

You lick the premature bead of cum, digging your tongue in his slit to clean all of it out. Your thumb and index fingers wrap, tightly, below the glans. You bob your head a little lower, tasting just the tip, flittering your eyes to gauge his reaction. While your inexperienced days are behind you (pun intended), Jeno has this magical first-love quality about him, that makes sucking his dick seem like your first, like when two rom-com leads finally have sex, except it’s in a car on a cliffside for added drama. He appears to agree – how? You don’t know exactly for sure, but people outside your relationships have mentioned that you make a good first girlfriend.

Jeno involuntarily stutters his hips higher, pushing half his cock past your lips, making you gag. Evidently, there are many things about him you still don’t know – namely, how big his dick is. You always suspected him to be above average, especially after his sporadic growth spurts in high school, but you never imagined that this would be your way to measure him! He can barely fit half his shaft through the rim of your lips. And it gets worse (better?) when you hollow your cheeks, scraping your tongue above your teeth, because your mouth squeezes him out. Jeno mumbles a string of curse words, nearly screaming them as you suck harder, his fists twisted in the blankets. You pull off his cock, replacing your mouth with your hands, albeit tighter, and spiral your saliva down to the base, leaning tall on your knees to spit more on his tip, in the slit from where precum bubbles out.

“I told you: I want you.”

“Fuck.” Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, sit on my face.”

You stop moving your hand, subconsciously throbbing your palm to the beat of his (dick) pulse. “What?”

Jeno’s fingers tap on the blanket, his voice increasingly whiny, “Sit. On. My. Face.”

You comply, kneeling around his cheeks, knees brushing his shoulders – which still wear his shirt, nothing but his abs and penis exposed. All the cloth touching your skin makes you feel more vulnerable, most likely more vulnerable than Jeno, and he might regret this in the morning. So, as he anchors his extra-large hands under your thighs, digging into your muscles, you pinch his shoulder, like a safe word, a safety action. And he stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, curving his neck to see you better. Maybe you frown too deeply or maybe you are on the verge of tears, because he sits up again, immediately spinning in front of you. “Hey, -” He gingerly reaches for your cheeks, holding your chin above his fingers. “- We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want. It’s okay. I want you to want this.”

“I,” you swallow, cautiously looking into his eyes. You cover your chest, hide your boobs by your bra – the only clothing on your body - and naked arms. “I just,” you mumble before finishing lamely, face warming with his hand, “feel really naked.”

“Oh,” Jeno says simply. He scans your face indiscernibly, so you, not wanting any of this to end, raise your eyebrows suggestively and glance at his shirt. “Oh!” Jeno takes it off, elbows crossing on either side of his ears, showing off his Dorito torso. And you must have been leaning forward, because you fall into his chest, a hand bracing widely on his obliques. You sheepishly raise your face, slightly ducking under his perky nipple; you lower eye-level with it and hesitantly lick it. “Fuck. Is this why you wanted me to strip?”

You flatten your tongue under his areola, then flick upward, tentatively building more pressure until you have his waist in both your hands, holding him steady while you massage his nipples. Your opposite thumb pushes small circles where your mouth neglects, almost kneading him like that time he taught you, in Chem 224, how to use a mortar and pestle properly, holding the ceramic bowl firm against the thick pestle breaking apart various solids into fine powders. Deeming his left pec marked enough (by your nails and lips), you move to the right, leaving a moist path between his boobs, but, rather than fondling the other side, as you did when it was dry, you fist his dick, dragging him forward. You assume Jeno gets the hint, given that he traps you on the sheets, under his flexed biceps. He kicks off the rest of his pants and slithers up your body, pressing his completely naked body into yours, only your bra left as a barrier. Jeno straddles across your hips, his cock spasming, as if asking you to do the last honors while he gropes your entire lower half, massaging your ass with the heels of his palms.

“Do – do you-you still want me to sit on your face?”

“No,” he heaves instantly before doing a partial push up (push down?) to kiss you, aggressive and instant. You can feel his broad deltoids pinch together while you ground yourself on his muscles, using the moment as an excuse to grope him. He swirls his tongue in your mouth, simultaneously smacking his wet lips to you, making you constantly chase him, come up only to be pushed down again. “Fuck, mayb-maybe later.” Later. You’re going to do this again. Jeno holds his torso still, slowly moving his cock between your pussy lips, lubricating himself prepared. “I want, uh, I want to be inside you,” he moans, voice breaking, “Can I fuck you? Please?”

You guide his tip into your cunt. “Please.” And when he stretches your hole, urging his girth past the involuntary tightening, you arch your hips up. “Full, full, fuck.” He shallowly thrusts, pulling out a little bit, only to push in more. Your thighs shake, and you point your feet down, curling your toes, to keep your legs separated enough for him to go faster. But you notice that, while he pistons in and out of your cunt, you cannot feel his balls slapping your ass; you cannot hear the distinct skin-on-skin noises – that’s when you realize: he’s not completely in you, despite the full feeling practically in your cervix. “Jeno,” you whine, “Fuck me.”

“I am,” he answers, breath quivering through gritted teeth.

“Harder,” you beg, fidgeting to give him additional access, little grabby hands wriggling along the outline carved around his muscles. “More.” You claw into his well-defined six pack. “F-fill me up all the way.”

Jeno mattes your hair down with his thumbs, coaxing your eyes open again. You peak through just one, then slowly open the other; you can feel the lines in your forehead melt away. Just for a second though. Because he uses your temporary relief to bottom out. You barely process any of his movements, until he kisses you again, his thrusts stuttering too gently. His breath trembles, controlled, masking the way his hands fight some urge to bruise your hips, so you hook your shin around his strong leg and topple him. When you sink down on his dick, taking every inch, pussy working overtime to accommodate him, the both of you groan. You honk his pecs, matching each squeeze with your breath. The bedsheets rustle, having come undone with all your tossing and turning, and Jeno kicks the blankets off the bed, sitting up. He mouths your perky tits, tilting his head to the side, jaw dropping with his tongue to suck as much skin as possible. You grab the headboard, accidentally slamming it into the wall, once, twice, three, four, five times, when he circles his hips, dick flopping around inside your cervix, ridiculously deep. Jeno grabs your ass, strikes your skin hard to start bouncing you on his lap. He helps you keep his cock inside your pussy, guiding you less than halfway up and banging his skin against yours. The position pushes you forward, allowing his shaft to graze your sopping clit, vulva pinning opened.

“Ahh,” you scream, “Je-Jeno, I’m-I’m –“ You throat tightens, words choking, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Jeno brings his lips to yours, half a millimeter away. He grunts, abs tightening too. “Cum, baby, you can do it. You can do it. Come on, baby.” He grabs you by the throat, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, eating up every moan, every breath, and fucks you faster. Your pussy gets wetter, more malleable, and you finally cum, toes curling, unwinding in his chokehold, tongue flopping out. He kisses your pink, plump tongue, lips smacking heavily, moaning out his nose and mouth, “Uh, uh, uh, fuck. Can-can I –“

“Cum inside me,” you finish for him, answer for him.

Jeno propels his cock a couple more times, the last one driving both of you into the air. Thick spurts of cum shoot into your pussy, almost adding another inch, the tip of his cock hitting, jerking, on your G-spot. You sit there for a little bit, your bodies slumping down the headrest, possibly addicted to the way your walls continuously milk even more cum out of him.

When he finally finishes, cum forcing its way down your thighs, he kisses you. “So … about sitting on my face?”

Your face lights up, the thought of him eating his own cum out your cunt way too exciting, and you push him on the bed, immediately popping his cock out and straddling his mouth.

An obnoxious ringing interrupts Jeno’s dream, way too early (well, anything that wakes him up is too early), and he whines at it, preferring to sink into his heated mattress pad. But the default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless, right now, for whatever reason – even though he probably wake up earlier than this during the work week. He buries his head in his pillow, trying to force the alarm into snoozing. His nose brushes into the soft pillowcase, inhaling the aromatherapy. Then, it moves … you move. And Jeno remembers the night before. It wasn’t a dream this time.

You slam your hand on the nightstand, briefly sliding out of his arms. The alarm – your phone – persists though, falling to the floor. You mumble a small fuck under your breath, softer than last night; the memory makes his dick twitch. He feels you crawl over the edge, rustling the bedsheets, your ass brushing his dick away. You dip heavier into the side with a Herculean effort, reaching for your phone, then slide it onto the mattress under your pillow. He tries not to react, tightens his already closed eyes, but his dick twitches. Thankfully, you seem blissfully unaware, nuzzling back into the pillows, a hand crossed over your chest, breathing deeply.

Jeno exhales through his nose, relieved. You must’ve fallen back to sleep – good, honestly, with work and then the whole train ride mess a couple days ago. Maybe he can use the time to finish what he started yesterday morning. Unfortunately, when he grabs his cock, points it up, his pelvis scrunching his abs, your thighs part, just briefly, then close again. The tip catches between your ass cheeks, trailing toward your pussy, sliding with back and forth, aided easily by how wet you are. Jeno internally groans at the thought of you having a sexy dream, hopefully about him. You start swaying, and your arm starts shaking, and your breath labors – you are touching yourself: your neck, your arms, your stomach, your clit. All the shifting spurs Jeno into action. He slowly and shallowly rocks his hips forward, spreading your natural lubricant across the top half of his cock. You lean into him, hands changing to claw his burly naked shoulder, and guide his fingers to your cunt. At the new position, the closer position, he sloppily mouths the part between your neck and shoulder, his breath as hot and heavy as his tongue.

You freeze for a second, stiffening your posture, and he thinks that maybe he misunderstood or that you changed your mind, so he slowly pulls back. His cock springs free from the tight crevice, wet and warm and hard, twitching on your round ass.

“I’m sor – Did you not – I thought – I’m sorr –“

You turn around and kiss him quiet, throwing a leg over his hip. Your heel digs into his lower back, above his flat ass, lodging the tip in your pussy again. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, kissing him harder the further you sink down. Once he is completely inside, you pull your face back and wrap your arms around his neck, practically fusing your bodies together. Everything moves too fast for him. Jeno is unable to appreciate your touches. He makes it known with a mewl, chest beating quicker than yours. And as if you sense it – best friend intuition, you might say in any other situation where his dick isn’t in you, like wordlessly handing over a bag of ramyeon that you ‘borrowed’ from Renjun’s room – you brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and he opens them this time. You’ve always been good at comforting him: when he had a panic attack over losing his wallet, when he got reprimanded at work for shredding the wrong abstract, etc. He has always known it. Well, not always; he doesn’t know where it began, but he knows the feeling will last forever, like a vow. Jeno hugs you around your waist, tighter, asking you to move for more or to stop for less, because, much like last night, should you give him an inch, he’ll take a meter.

“Don’t be sorry,” you beg, humping his cock again. “I want you.”

Jeno loses balance and falls on his flat ass, his thighs sandwiched densely between yours. He fumbles around the bed, pushing away the thin sheet to see his cock disappear in your pussy. It should be impossible; you should be tight, having nothing to prep you beforehand, but maybe his stroke game last night was enough, you came twice on his cock alone, the stretch evidently lasting through now. The mattress creaks and the headboard hits the wall as you bounce firmly, knees jabbing into the bed. Your breath shakes, abs visibly flexing, and you fall forward, hair splaying over his shoulder. He licks his middle finger, then drags it under your thigh, trapping his cock in a V, using his lubricated finger for added pressure on your clit, his dick abusing its underside. His free arm belts behind your back, index finger teasing outside the rim of your asshole.

“Oh, oh,” you scream, biting your lip, pawing the comforter for some stability while he rams your little cunt. “F-f-ffuck.” He spanks your ass, dragging the meaty flesh up with a glowing hand mark. “Cu-cu-cumming. Mmm, oh my god, I’m so c-close.”

“Already? Shit.”

You tuck your hips forward, and he takes advantage, moving his hands under your torso, massaging your clit with all his fingers and sucking your tits. The repetitive sounds synchronize – your whimpering, his whimpering, your skin slapping into his, the bed springs screeching, your cunt squelching. All of it overwhelms his senses, and had you not been so close to his ear, Jeno would’ve missed your mantra:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno,” you squeal, moans getting increasingly louder, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your pussy drools cum down his legs, and he gradually decelerates, riding out your orgasm.

A beat passes, full of tense heavy breathing, before he pants in your face, nearly screaming (as if you hadn’t done so a moment ago, in his ear, with his face buried in your neck). “Breakfast,” he says simply, loudly, trying to hear himself through the ringing in his ears that preserves the way your moans sound, as if this could end on Monday morning when you get back to your real lives – which it could. You never said what this is. “Should we, um, should we get breakfast?” He remembers your alarm, trying to suppress the hardness in his cock, as if this were all just a formality, a complimentary wake up call not provided by the hotel, and he looks away, but he doesn’t go far, only dropping to your lips, not wanting to part, even in his view. “You know, that first meal of the day, typically eaten during moan-morning, often in, um, including rice, eggs, milk –”

Jeno flickers his eyes away from your lips, catching you gazing at him. Somehow you make it less creepy than when he does it. There was this one time at the end of high school when he checked on you, in the next cubicle over, in the library, only to find you asleep on your textbook, relying on osmosis rather than flash cards to study for the CSAT; 15 minutes passed and he felt like he regressed into that middle school nerd who just stood there, wheezing. Or that other time in international student building during college when Renjun slapped him on the arm because he was staring at you too long; he lied, saying that he was just making sure you got the right coffee from the vending machine, but Renjun knew. Jeno is convinced that his entire friend group knows how he feels about you – Haechan tried setting him up with you back in high school; Jaemin practically read his diary; Mark … Mark might actually be the only one who doesn’t know, for sure, but he definitely suspects something!

You grab his chin, snapping him out of his thoughts, and search his face before kiss him, your eyes fluttering closed as you grind him through the overstimulation. “Cum in me,” you order, “I’ll milk your cock dry.”

“Fuck,” Jeno breathes, never detaching his lips. He hugs low on your waist again, slapping your ass with both his hands. And when he can’t take it anymore – take the grinding, the clenching, the bouncing – he mumbles your name in your mouth, “Baby, I ne, uh, I need to cum. Let me cum inside you,” he takes you up on your offer, like the more-than-decade-long pining stops at a dam, at your answer.

Wordlessly, you shove you tongue in his mouth, cradling his cheek as he leans deeper between the pillows. You grab whatever length of his cock that is not in your pussy, and he whimpers when you throb your hand around him, teasing the other half inside your cunt. Jeno scoots forward, using the momentum to slap himself all the way in you, making your hips stutter. Fuck, you’re tight. And he knows that it’s a dumb myth for the vagina to be this compact, narrow canal, but your wall muscles barely conform to his girth, and the thought boosts his ego, so he holds you steady against his chest, repeatedly ramming your pussy with long thrusts. Your tits jiggle off your chest, scraping his pecs, almost slapping him in the jaw as he tilts his head up to suck more bruises under your chin, to soothe you from all the choking last night.

“Je-Jen,” you stammer, “I don’t –“ You swallow, shaking your head. “My legs are-are going to giv-give out.”

“It’s okay, baby, just breathe,” he tells you. He punctures your hips at a faster pace, like giving your pussy CPR, ordering your clit to administer a shock, blowing the kiss of life for the both of you. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” he guides, “You can do it.”

Jeno flips you on your back, an oof resounding the room, yelps and giggles following. He gives you a second to gather your composure, regulate your breathing, then pistons his cock repeatedly in your pussy. His tip catches on a particularly hard clench, and your walls refuse to let him go, trapping him in a spot that abuses your G-spot. He pushes the entire length inside you, practically fucking your cervix again, driving your back arched. You writher along the mattress, hair splaying among the sheets. His fists outline your obliques, thumbs erroneously pointed outward, trying to support your back. He accidentally slips on a particularly hard thrust, but before he can save himself, he protects your skull from hitting the headrest or your arm from getting crushed by his chest. Phew. Maybe if he were weaker, he would hold you on the bed, thrusting in a way that lets the both of you fall into the pillows, or maybe if he were stronger – mentally and physically – he would be able to stay up, not tempted or dizzy at the sight of your slightly parted mouth. Jeno readjusts his hands – one pushing your waist into the comforter, for his own support, and the other creeping toward your neck. You lift your chin up, giving him consent, and it takes him a second to move forward; he didn’t think he would get this far, that you would completely let him manhandle you. But, he guesses, he doesn’t know everything about you, and he is so excited to discover more. He pads his fingers on either side of your esophagus, squeezing just enough to make breathing a little harder for you, make it harder for you to follow the breathing pattern he ingrained in your cunt.

“Fuck, baby, breathe just like that.” Jeno peeks an eye wider, glancing at the blanket tosses away. Cautiously, he drifts his gaze to your stomach, and his cock twitches. You moan loader, almost confirming him thoughts – is he really that deep? Your pussy clenches. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jeno kisses you. “Cum with me,” he moans your name.

You used to make fun of him for being such a romantic, always cooing when he’d swoon over Knox and Chris, until he decided that he didn’t like their romance anymore. It’s too possessive. Although, he understands the sentiment, because the way you look at him, now, face contorting over your second building orgasm, incomprehensible whines spilling into the air. He should have done this sooner, should have kissed you sooner, and he would have, if he had known it would lead to this, because he can do it; he can bury the depth of his feelings while you sort yours out. If he can have you this close, like this, he would do anything.

Jeno draws his hips back, your name snagging on his moan. He feels your fingers dig in harsher as your legs tense up, tension building in your stomach. His knees chafe against the sheets, rocking an imprint into the mattress that keeps your legs open. Jeno slows his thrusts, instead hammering his entire cock harder. He tries not to cum prematurely, wanting to see your second orgasm of the morning overstimulate, but as he abrades your clit, holding your thighs wide, he feels himself shoot a thick rope of cum deep in your pussy, and it’s not long until he spills everything else, fucking you through his own orgasm, fucking his cum into you, your hole greedily drinking it all. You follow a few hits later, shaking your ass to help yourself along, then Jeno collapses, sweaty hot body enveloping your matching one. He presses sloppy, wide, open-mouthed kisses on your clavicle, steadily trailing up your neck, your cheek, and pecking you on the lips.

“Better than your dream?” you giggle, returning a kiss.

“Way better.”

Getting out of bed takes forever. The first time you tried to leave, you sat on the edge, stretching your arms upward. You bent over, standing on the ground, reaching for your toes, shaking off the jelly sensation, but Jeno, equally awake, rejuvenated from the twenty-minute rest since his cock was in you, leaned over the edge as well and made out with your pussy, licking all the way to your rim and back. Rather than shoving his head away, you pushed your hips back, for more, and eventually returned to bed, kicking up your legs and giggling your way into another blow job. The second time you tied to leve, you had to cross over Jeno’s body to get to the aisle between your beds, since your bed was pushed against the wall). You slithered a leg over his waist, balancing your palms on his shoulders, his cock twitching on your ass. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you there. You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be innocent (even though you really did want to get out of bed) as his cock hardened.

And now, the third time, your legs shake on your way off the mattress, having experienced way too many orgasms in less than thirty-minutes.

“Come back to bed,” Jeno whines, patting the empty warm spot you previously occupied.

“No,” you laugh, holding your arms out for balance before you fall again. You slap his grabby little hand away from your ass, much to his dismay, and pick up one of the new shirts you bought him yesterday that slipped out of the bag after Jeno kicked over a blanket. “I’m hungry,” you pout, facing him and buttoning up the top few buttons. “I need something to eat.”

“You have something I want to eat.”

“Real food, dork.” You walk over to your luggage, hunching over, ass on display but too far away from him. He groans, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed. You slip on a pair of panties, and his groan gets louder, making a smile instinctively spread on your face. “Come onnnn,” you complain, crawling onto the bed with a blouse and bra in hand, inching into his face, “Let’s grab something at that bistro. We won’t have a lot of time tomorrow at the wedding, and it’s already 5.”

Jeno sits straight, back against the headrest, his arms behind his head, showing off his thick muscles and tiny waist. He looks you up and down, a frown settling into his lip as he releases his arms with another groan. “Are we doing this backwards?”

“Doing what?” you ask, focused on exchanging his top for yours, another long-sleeve but black this time. You creep onto his lap, legs folded over the edge. He instantly goes to stabilize your waist, and you replace your arms around his neck, giving him a chaste (albeit sensual) kiss on the cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I just want to get dinner.” You put a hand on his arm, doing your best to give him a set of puppy dog eyes that you hope he cannot refuse. “Please?”

Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, let me put on some pants.”

The wait time at the bistro exceeded the amount of time it took to get ready and Uber over there, so you decided to look for something else. It seemed as though the universe wanted to punish your feet, everything else either closed by noon or surpassing an hour wait. You know that Jeno hates waiting more than 45-minutes. If he even knows that the restaurant is trendy or high-end, he won’t leave the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, an empty sidewalk around the corner from yet another restaurant. Jeno slows down ahead of you, a hand coming out of his blazer to rub the frown lines in his jaw. “I didn’t think everything would take this long.”

“Hey,” Jeno calls, stepping into your personal bubble, preventing you from looking away by cradling your cheeks, “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll find something.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you shake your head, tearily looking into his eyes. The night sky almost obscures them, but Jeno led you close to a building with motion sensor, external lights. “It’s ridiculous, honestly, and you keep comforting me, but I’m starting to feel like a bur –”

You are cut off by your own gasp when Jeno kisses you, effectively shutting you up, and you melt into his arms. He simply puckers his lips, kissing you as long as he inhales before breathing out, just enough to regulate your heartbeat. The whole world slows down around you, every sound muted except the gentle smacking of his lips. One of your feet pops, kicks up, and you lean into his touch, fully assuaged.

Jeno pulls away first, leading you over to an open hotteok stand without a line. He orders two for each of you and a large soda to share, paying quickly. The vendor compliments the two of you as a couple, but when you go to correct him, Jeno interrupts you again, a hand on your lower back, thanking the guy, and walks you down the street. Once you get to a bridge, streetlamps connected by strung lantern lights, he relaxes against the railing, using the warm pancake to heat up his hands. You look him over again, then glance at your attires; it seems weird – you both wearing nice date clothes but eating ₩10,000 snacks, sharing a soda instead of wine.

“What?”

“I just …” You turn the wrapper around in your hands, gaze falling to the chewy dough. “How are you so nonchalant about everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are w-we going to pretend that the stuff in the hotel room didn’t happen? Like I didn’t confess that I like you, more than platonically?”

Jeno sighs, casting his gaze to the floor. But, like, why? You are the one vulnerable right now. In the last 24-hours, you confessed, to liking him more than friends. You only ever came close three other times; three times in 12 years: at the beginning of high school, motivated by your friends to take control; at the end of high school, before graduation, when you thought that he would go to KAIST instead of Yonsei with you; in the middle of college, during volunteer work at a soup kitchen. And each time, you chickened out. You thought that maybe, after you entered the workforce, like a real adult, you would face the music, face these constantly lingering feelings, and maybe, this is it; this is the music, but something about him, about this, regresses you back to that teenage girl feeling: shy and insecure.

“I –” Jeno inhales, crumpling the hotteok wrapper into his pocket, then waddling over to you. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You frown. He is not listening to you. Why else would you repeat the friendship-shattering phrase? You thought that this was it, that you could live with being his weekend mistake, but that involved getting a solid response from him, something tangible to let you know how he feels.

“I just … You don’t …” You lick your lips, gradually dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to face him with all this uncertainty. “I,” you emphasize, pointing your middle phalanges above your heart, “don’t know what you’re saying. Jen, I want some cl –”

For the second time tonight, he cuts you off with a simple kiss, long and chaste, holding you by the neck, as if the action exempts him from explaining himself. And maybe you are easy to sway, because you let him kiss you in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Busan city streets, convincing yourself that having him physically close is the same as having him emotionally close.

Jeno hopes that he won’t be like Jaehyun on his wedding day – absolutely insane. Well, he hopes that he won’t be like this on his wedding day, with you, oscillating between awkward silence and carrying out his childhood, assuming that he marries you. Granted, the wedding cake did melt, and another groomsman, the best man, Yuta, is running late (delayed flight from Japan), and Jaehyun did rip his tie, hence why Jeno, now, runs around the Park Hyatt Hotel, searching for any front desk attendant to point him toward a sewing kit at the very least. He should have brought his back up tie, a skinny black tie that he definitely does not know how to turn into a cravat, and he cannot ask you, not after last night when he evaded your question by sleeping with you.

Left. Right. Left again. Jeno looks around the empty, second-floor hallway, above the equally empty front desk, adjacent to the imperial staircase. Promptly, he shuts the door, inhaling and exhaling under the weird single lightbulb at the center of the ceiling, eyes shut, trying to imagine his happy place.

“Jeno?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping, face finally relaxing without the groom-zilla pacing and spiraling without “his soul mate” to calm him down, but Jeno cannot refute very much. Even in his dreams, you exist. And maybe he talks too little, or you talk too much; maybe he doesn’t say enough, or maybe you don’t say the proper words, but he could live in the in-between, in the that moment after you say something and right before he doesn’t. So, he sinks into your enveloping voice, engrossed by just the sound of his voice, no pressure behind it – pressure to answer your ‘I like you’ confession with his thousand-word ‘I love you’ confession; pressure to have the ‘what are we’ conversation; pressure to face your inevitable rejection that, although you feel something more than friendship for him, you don’t feel the same way. Except, Jeno doesn’t just feel the warmth from your words.

Your fingers slowly touch his tall shoulder, pads of your fingers dipping in harder to grab his attention. And he screams.

And you copy him.

It takes a moment for him to turn around, a hand over his heart, patting down his lapels. But when he does, when he finally looks at you, as if he were the groom this wedding, waiting for you, the bride, to surprise him at the end of the aisle, Jeno’s breath stops. He cannot discern whether it’s due to the shock value of being in close proximity to you again, in an intimate setting almost rivaling 7 minutes in heaven (though he can say that he’s had more than 7 minutes in heaven with you, outside a closet); or it’s because you look absolutely stunning, somehow making the lime green garden wedding theme work for you – Jaehyun practically shoved a floor-length dress in your arms the moment you both arrived, absolutely exhausted, half-filled coffees pressed against your foreheads, above your sunglasses blocking the sunlight, as if you two were hungover (you weren’t; neither of you have drank more than water this weekend so far), before he directed you to Mingyu’s “side of the hotel”, even though you are his cousin, and took Jeno to his side. And, when you initially asked him to be your wedding date, Jeno didn’t expect to stand with the wedding party, thought he would just have to sit in the audience, watching you stand at the altar in front of the wrong man (granted, your cousin and his groom), but Jaehyun gave him a matching green tie and the second groomsman spot.

“Ha-ha-hi. What, um, what are you doing in here?”

You, staring at the floor, feet squirming clickty clack in your heels, hold up a tiny sewing kit. “Stealing some supplies for Mingyu. He brough an extra cravat and wants me to sew in tie, as a precaution, in case something happens to the current one.”

Jeno lets out a small laugh, and you slowly look up at him.

“What?” you frown.

“Nothing,” he smiles at you. “Just … they’re really meant for each other. Jaehyun ripped his tie, and he sent me looking for a sewing kit to fix it.”

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. And Jeno coughs weakly into his hand, trying not to think about the way you kissed him, last night, head tilted again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly. “What about Yuta?”

“Delayed.” Jeno jingles his watch into frame. “He should be arriving at Incheon in the next few minutes, but he won’t be here until, like, 20 minutes be-before the wedding,” Jeno trails off slowly at the end. The ceremony, the intimate short portion of the early afternoon, starts in two hours. Except, right now, the closet seems more intimate – perhaps 50 people will be accommodated later, the ballroom, and if he translates that into this space, about a tenth would be in attendance. And they probably would not like to witness him undress you with his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, stumbling your fingers onto his lapels. You feel the material once, under your thumb, then smooth out imaginary wrinkles. He has to wonder what you see that he doesn’t, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to leave him. “Luckily, Jaehyun has you then, huh?” You press your palm into his jacket, just the one time, above his rapidly beating heart, then start dropping your hand.

But he catches you.

“I’m lucky,” he says, the words falling from the tip of his tongue, like breaking the dam, letting all the pent-up and unresolved feelings flood, “to have you.” Jeno subconsciously tugs you forward, by your hand, until you stand just a hair away, your dress breathing like a Lee Byung-Ho sculpture for SeMA’s Aging World installation a few years ago (he took you and spent the whole time scribbling your name next to the notes that he had to decipher later for his extra credit essay). He flickers his eyes across your face, waiting before he gets an approval. You stay still for the longest second in history, and he mirrors it, mirrors you. When you appear to move away, he also copies that. “Sorry. Sorry. I know we’re in a kind of uncomfortable spot, and I probably shouldn’t’ve –“

“Jeno?”

“… Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

You fist his jacket, ruining the lapels more obvious for him to see, making him stagger forward. He braces a hand on the bookcase storage behind you, pulling your lower back toward his pelvis to help you evade ramming your spine into the shelves, but he still falls, face first into yours, one strong arm keeping you close, the other hovering above your cheek, too scared that he might crush you with the impossible weight of his crush, his feelings. You try to comfort him – as you always do, like a rock – fluffing his hair. Then, your foot slips, stiletto heel snagging on a loose roll of toilet paper. And he catches you, of course, always, holding your waist so tightly that you might crack. You echo him, this time, grabbing, groping, gripping every surface that you possibly can. To stop himself from toppling you, he bunches your silk dress at your hip and shoves his strong leg between your thighs. He drags you up his knee once, twice, thrice, and you moan.

“Jeno,” you barely manage to breathe, after one kiss, lips tight. You go lax in his arms, fawning over his arm like a damsel in distress – head thrown back, hair starting to tangle at the roots, leg hooking onto his waist. He moves down to your neck, your collarbone, your chest; he slides down the spaghetti strap for easier access, peppering wet kisses onto your skin. “Oh, my God,” you moan, arms tightening around his neck, drawing him impossibly close and thrusting your half-exposed tits in his face. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jeno kisses you harder, his tongue barely poking out, bottom lip dragging up. His inhales feel – and sound – heavy, trying to inhale everything about this moment.

“I want you,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek. He stops kissing you, open mouth panting into your ear. “But not like this. Not right here.”

“Jen,” you whine, sliding your hand under his jacket, clutching the back of his dress-shirt slightly untucked. “Please. I want you.”

“I – “ he gasps. “I –“

Then your phone rings.

I want you so bad, but not like this. I want to make love with you.

“He-hello?” you answer. You press your forehead to Jeno’s, and he takes the opportunity to analyze your face, the face he has memorized in his daydreams. Jeno twirls a loose, long strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah, I f-ff-found it.” He presses a singular kiss under your jaw, tongue hunting for a prominent vein. And when he finds it, he pushes, harder, sucking just light enough not to create an ostentatious mark. “Mmm,” you nearly moan wantonly, legs giving out, “I-I’ll br-bring it by right now. O-okay, yeah, bye.” You quickly hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor, and wrap your arms around Jeno’s neck, returning one kiss, the final kiss, long and chaste, everything spilling out. “I have to go,” you whisper, sliding down his thigh.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “Me too.”

During the wedding, you did this a lot.

Thankfully no one noticed, or you hoped that no one noticed – you and Jeno staring at each other, across the altar; you behind Jeonghan, Mingyu’s best man; him behind Yuta, Jaehyun’s best man. You wanted to pay attention to the grooms, and their lovely ceremony, but seeing Jeno, just a few people away, had you quixotically imagining him at the forefront of the room, surrounded by your own friends and family. Who would be his best man: Renjun, Jaemin, Haechan? Would you get married in his hometown, or maybe abroad? What would you wear – Leehwa, Vera Wang, custom Prada?

Everything faded in front of you, when he met your gaze, staring you down over Yuta’s shoulder, closest to the officiant. You thought that the venue’s organization had it out for you, putting you on a pedestal below Jaehyun, but as Jeno returned your acknowledgement, you realized that the venue was, really, protecting your feelings, because the moment you locked eyes, the entire weekend flashed through your memory – almost kisses, actual kisses, accidental touches. You had to suppress all those feelings, make sure none of it was written on your face, like they meant nothing, like you don’t know what his current suit looks like crumpled and on the floor of your hotel room, like he belongs closer to you. The cheers following Jaehyun and Mingyu’s ‘I do’s were the only thing to bring you out of your own head, to draw the details of reality again, as if you willed time itself to move into the reception so that you could have Jeno to yourself again, restoring the intimacy of this affair to the grooms.

Unfortunately, it took a bit longer to even breathe in Jeno’s direction.

Both the Jung and Kim families shuffled everyone down to the reception ballroom, where even more friends and family and colleagues waited. You had to go back upstairs, without Jeno, to change into your party dress – the silk purple one, a shorter material that matches the tie you bought him. And then, the tables separated you as well, sending Jeno to mingle with other singles and you with your distant cousins, through the first course as both grooms, together, made their rounds, greeting every guest and expressing their gratitude in low bows for coming to celebrate their union. You finally found an escape during the main dish, which forced everyone to pull food from a buffet table rather than be served the same appetizer.

“Hey,” you bump elbows in line with Jeno, stealing his attention from the galbi-jjim, a small smile fighting your cheeks. “I – I can’t believe we got separated there. Do you think I can sneak you back to my table?”

Jeno chuckles and places a rib on your plate, using the obnoxiously large tongs to fix a batonnet carrot atop the meat. “I hope so,” he answers honestly, nose crinkling as a sign of it. “You’d think that they would put us together, since I’m supposed to be your plus one.”

“But I guess not,” you finish for him. You look over your shoulder at your table – nearly empty, like the preceding pew taking communion, then whisper, like making a tryst between spies, “Meet me at my table when you’re done. You can take my aunt’s chair; she’s dreadfully boring.”

You finish plating the traditional food that Jaehyun picked out for the occasion (according to Mingyu) and return to your table (Table No. 3) ahead of Jeno, who stopped to wait for a restock of japchae right before the dessert platters. He is easy to please – and they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – because after he plates his noodles, he looks over his shoulders and sneaks a bite, eyes prettily fluttering closed, lips puckered around the tips of his manicured nails, licking his fingers clean. You try not to laugh, biting it behind an inevitable smile. Jeno finds you, easily, as he always does, tilting his head in confusion, but you wave him off, gesturing for him to finally join you, make you feel at little less alone among the extended family branches.

“Here, take some of the japchae,” he says, already unveiling a nearby fork from the dark green napkin cloth and piling it next to your rice. “It tastes –” He kisses his fingers. “- chef’s kiss, amazing.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” your aunt interrupts – not the dreadfully boring one; a different aunt, a younger aunt, who, just two years ago, claimed that she wouldn’t be like the rest of the peanut gallery, gossiping and leaping to conclusions about everyone younger’s love lives. You and Jeno sink into your respective chairs, deliberately avoiding touching each other. She leans in, over your arm, almost daring Jeno with her excited Princess doe eyes. “Can we expect another wedding soon?” He coughs. And you drop your metal chopsticks. And your aunt leans back, shrugging as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m probably not the only one who is expecting it. You graduated college – what – 10? 13? months ago. Right now would be perfect for you to get married, while you’re still young.” She briefly points a spoon at Jaehyun and Mingyu, before chopping up her almon bowl. “They got married young, and now they’re going to honeymoon across Europe. I’m just saying –“ She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s better to get married young – you grow together; finances are easier to manage; your health is in good shape, etc. etc.”

Your other aunt, her wife, finally joins, too, and smacks her arm. “Are you bothering another couple about getting married?” She turns to you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry, after we got married, four years ago,” she emphasizes more to her wife than you or Jeno, eyes slightly narrowed (although playfully) on the last syllable, “she has been obsessed with weddings.”

“Happens when you marry a wedding planner.” They kiss.

You turn away, shyly looking at Jeno, mouthing an apology.

Surprisingly, he leans into your ear, whispering. His initial breath, before he even says anything, sends shivers down your spine, and he grabs your arm, rubbing your naked forearm for warmth. Oh. He mistook it. “Just play along,” he instructs. You can feel a hair move from its place. “It’s easier to say that you don’t know when we’ll get married than to explain why we’re, um, you are not dating.”

“W-we don’t actually know when we’ll get married,” you answer, gradually building your voice to conversation decibel.

“See! I told you they were a couple! There is no way that they wouldn’t be. Look at them!”

You cautiously glance at Jeno, stopping at his matching purple tie (he must’ve changed when you changed; and lucky him, a simple tie is easier than an entire dress), because you do not want to be so obvious about your lie. The train conductor, the Uber driver, the hotelier … they all thought the same, but since then, the start of your trip, you discovered that he does want you to touch him, in all the ways that carry meaning (and then some). You just do not know to what extent. He never said anything, never explained anything, not that you are entitled to his feelings. And you tried to reason it all – maybe you say too much, not really letting him, or maybe he says too little, constantly shocked to silence by all the secrets you spill.

You open your mouth at the round table, but another aunt of yours comes by and pinches Jeno’s cheek, saying something about how handsome he is, the statement echoing far off in your ears. And thank God, honestly; you did not quite know what to respond, merely hoping that, if you simply opened your mouth, your Broca’s area would follow. It didn’t.

“Yes, yes, but as you mentioned, my lovely date does not have a drink, so we best fix that,” you hear Jeno express. You peek to your side, then up, seeing him having stood at some point in his conversation. He throws you a look, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile nearly rectangular, and nods toward the open bar. Oh! You stand up, too, albeit clumsily, knocking your thigh into the mahogany, the silverware and ceramics jostling; you give your aunts a hasty bow and apology before taking Jeno’s arm. “See,” he says to your other aunt, “We must be going. There is a long Island iced tea out there with my name on it.” They laugh together, then you let Jeno drag you away to the open bar, away from prying aunties.

“Long Island iced tea?” You quirk a single eyebrow. He refused to drink those ever since the 2020 trip to Germany when you, Jaemin, and Renjun got so fucked up on Long Island iced teas, consuming more and more, claiming that it just wasn’t hitting, until it did, that the four of you missed your nonrefundable trip back to Incheon.

Jeno rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t think of a different drink.”

You flutter your eyes to the drinks menu, reading through the specialties until you find the Long Island iced tea … right above the Sweet Pink Punch, a fruity pink margarita that is definitely right up his alley, had he had a few drinks in his system already. You raise your eyebrow even further up.

“Okay! I wanted the pink drink,” he pouts. “Is that what you want me to say?” The bartender immediately pops one up on the counter for him, pointedly fluffing the pink little petals over the equally pink salted rim. Jeno groans. “So not what I wanted.”

“Here,” you laugh, flagging down the same bartender. “I’ll take a six blueberry kamikaze shots and a whiskey smash.” It is Jeno’s turn raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh harder, lightly smacking him on the stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just gonna take a couple shots to take the edge off this whole party, –” A bit of liquid luck, if you were being completely transparent. “– then, we’ll make a few rounds and leave early. The key is – thank you –“ You pass him half the shots and put your drinks close together, making it ambiguous which belongs to whom. “– The key is to make a strong impression, and since we were at the altar today, I think we’ve got a free pass, but, just to be safe, –” You down a shot. “– we’ll take a few more photos, schmooze Mingyu’s cousins, note a talking point for later, then –“ You click your tongue. “– we’ll bounce.” You down another shot. Just one little glass remains, filled on your side of the bar, while your date has yet to even touch the table, so you look up at him. Jeno has an arm folded under his chest, opposite fingers dragging his bottom lip down, intermittently padding inside his mouth. And you swallow, throat suddenly dry with only liquid courage to drink. “Is … Is that okay?”

“Huh?” He drops his hand, and your eye follows, mouth drawing a continuous blank. “Oh, yeah,” he answers. “But, um, we don’t have to leave right away. It’s your cousin’s wedding; it might be fun to hang around with everyone for a bit.”

Jeno doesn’t know why he said that – We don’t have to leave right away, and it might be fun to hang around for a bit. Those few rounds you talked about (not the shots ☹) turned into hours, even more after you offered to stay while everyone else left, to help clean the reception hall. Jeno stood up, also, to start piling dishes into bus tubs, but you, and the others helping, only gave him easy-to-complete tasks or shooing him away. He eventually just sat down, sporadically drinking a bottle of soju, watching you laugh with your aunt and Mingyu, now your cousin-in-law, over something he couldn’t hear from so far away.

And when Jaehyun approaches, Jeno misses him, too caught up in the way your eyes almost physically light up at Mingyu’s umpteenth gawky faux pas of the night.

“How long?”

Jeno jumps, straightens his back. He relaxes after seeing Jaehyun, who looks far calmer than a couple hours ago. Maybe marriage suits him, brings out the vulnerability that no one really sees unless they get a few drinks in him. Jeno wonders if marriage would change him. Would he be more conscientious? Introverted (if that were even possible)? Would he have the same level of self-control? Or would his sex life get worse? And what if he didn’t marry you? He wants everything that marriage entails, even the compromises he might not be able to think about right now, but he isn’t sure that he would want it if it wasn’t with you.

“I …”

“How long have you been in love?” Jaehyun repeats, a knowing look quirked into his smile.

Jeno inhales, once, twice. He opens his mouth. Then, he puts down his bottle. “Forever,” he answers quietly, “maybe.” He winces. That sounds wrong, so he corrects himself, “Probably. Your cousin …” he starts, not saying your name, because if he does, he might accidentally confess something that he wants only you to hear.

Jaehyun chuckles, possibly more intoxicated than Jeno. It feels like that time in high school (Jeno cringes at how often he’s thought about his teenage years, like someone stuck in the past, but he cannot help that he has spent half his life with you) – that time in high school, near the end, when you invited him to his first college party, Jaehyun’s college party. So many things happened, so many firsts happened: his first beer, his first time losing his wallet (it was in the garage refrigerator), his first hickey; he emerged from a random bedroom, tugging up the collar of his shirt, and accidentally bumped into Jaehyun who was coming out of the bathroom from a different – but similar – experience.

“Dramatic,” Jaehyun comments. And Jeno whips his head to look at the groom, but he finds him looking at Mingyu. Jeno turns, too, but his eyes find you instead, instantly forgetting about the wedding party, until Jaehyun starts talking again. “Though, understandable.” Jaehyun spins his chair to Jeno, crouching a little closer, like he is about to reveal a secret. “You know, I almost asked you to give a wedding speech too.”

“Me?” Jeno points to himself. Jaehyun nods, re-affirming. “Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs, leaning back. He takes Jeno’s soju. “Because you give good speeches.” He tilts his bottle to Mingyu and you dancing and singing (Mingyu off-beat; you off-key). “My husband –” He smiles (that annoying and sickening lovey-dovey smile … that Jeno can’t help but want too). “– thought it might make you confess.”

“What?!”

Jaehyun shrugs again. Then, a beat passes, and Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaehyun gets up to join you and Mingyu; you pulling him up by an imaginary lasso. He hands back the soju, shimmying toward his husband. Another jealous pang bubbles in Jeno’s chest, and, yeah, he may not be the best person to let give a speech, or he might be the best. Sure, he wants that – to be called someone’s (your) husband and dance the night away with them (you); and yeah, he thinks about what it means to be in love, or what love itself means, and he comes to the same conclusion, every time. He comes to the same conclusion as you gesture for him to join the mini-after party, starting up an old SHINEE song on your iPhone that everyone knows.

More muzak fills the silence, albeit awkwardly now, through the first floor of the hotel. Jeno holds the sensor open, allowing you to enter first and push the Floor F button. He takes a place next to you, leaning on the cold wall, flushed face finally starting to mellow. You stare at the red numbers increasing on the monitor above the door, adjusting the hem of your purple cocktail dress lower than his tuxedo jacket hanging off your shoulders, rubbing your thighs together at your knees. The reception lasted longer than you anticipated; weddings, especially those so deep in Busan, tend not to exceed two hours, but you stayed passed 7 PM, since 11 AM, helping around where you could. And maybe it started out as a way to avoid Jeno, after the previous night, then all the discomfort and embarrassment faded, once you got a kiss and liquid courage. It seems to have faded by now though.

“Beautiful, um, beautiful ceremony,” Jeno mumbles, scratching the back of his neck and biting back a smile.

"Yeah,” you agree, breaking into a nervous smile. You fumble with the silver cufflinks, the memory of the last time you were confined to a small space with him – the closet at the Park Hyatt Hotel – at the forefront of your brain, and you wonder if his breath would be warm, or warmer, on your neck now. A glimpse of Jeno crawls into the corner of your eye, so you look him up and down. He doesn’t appear tired, rather lost in thought, like you, lips sucked in as if preventing another secret from falling out (or maybe he has to throw up). It becomes harder to ignore the weekend tension, the unsaid confessions, the sex. “Jeno, I lo –”

“So –”

Silence pulses, and the elevator goes up a floor.

You both close your mouths again. Perhaps you should have taken the stairs; the huffing and puffing would help you break the quietude. Beautiful ceremony was the first thing he said to you since getting into the Uber from the reception hall. And before that, he only made small talk, interrupting you if he even sensed a deeper conversation. It was frustrating, but you also understood. You kept bringing it up at inopportune times. Either the next task (eg, the wedding, the not-your wedding) or the atmosphere (eg, too many people) prevented you from really talking it out.

“Oh, you go first.”

“No, you were talking first. You go.”

You inhale. “Jeno, I lo –”

Ding. You have arrived at Floor F.

There it is again.

Jeno shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, gesturing for you to leave ahead of him. “We can talk about this in our room.”

Our room. Funny enough, since you two moved into the new gender-neutral dorms, at the beginning of college, people assumed that you were roommates (oh, my God, they were roommates) and were quite shocked upon finding out that Jeno chose to stay with Jaemin and you with an upperclassman, Yoohyeon, who had the same major as you but was in her last year. And similarly, to this hotel, your room – our room – is in the middle of the Fth Floor. Yay, more awkward silence to tread through. :|

You fall into routine with Jeno, as you step foot in your hotel: he takes your his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the closet by the door, and you saunter towards the closest bed, eyes trained on the ground as if an officer asked you to for a walk and turn test. You kick your shoes off by the heels, nearly moaning when the straps release your feet, and rub the bottom before a blister appears. Jeno, equally shoeless, joins you, sits beside you, his thighs parted widely on the space you give him.

“Jeno, I lo –” you start. But he leans over, caressing your cheek, and kisses you, slow yet passionate. His thumb rubs long, comforting lines above your jaw, helping you to relax further and you accept, holding onto his arm for stability. You add another hand, behind your back, supporting yourself as he guides you down on the neatly pleated duvet. He almost tries to say something through the embrace, his tongue clicking a syllable or two above your teeth. “Are – are we doing this again?”

Jeno pecks your lips and rests his warm, exposed forehead against yours. “As much as you want to.” He kisses you again, falling alongside you on the open bed, turning you from the edge. “I,” he pants, eyes closed, chest rising. You brush away his hair, pushing back all the strands you can bunch, stealing the moment to selfishly admire him without the weight of ruining an already intimate affair with your affair. “I – I can’t do a onetime thing with you.”

“Me neither.”

Jeno opens his eyes, instantly analyzing your face. “What does that mean?”

“It –” You peck his lips again, rolling him under your body, straddling his waist. “– means that this feels good.” You grab him by the collar, a button falling undone. He immediately finds your waist, just like the train ride, hands belting through your short dress, dragging the silky material up your thighs. You can feel his shirt scratch into your skin as you both find the most ideal spot. He winds up further on the bed, arms mingling with the sheets, and you slide down his hips, slipping to his dick, teetering on your knees, preemptively riding him. “Do-do you like it?”

His body freezes, and you fear that you did something wrong, touched something wrong, said something wrong, but then, Jeno shimmies his hips, sliding down his trousers. You feel his cotton Calvin Kleins touch your own cotton panties; your pussy practically activated by the twitch of his cock. He taps high under your thigh, drumming hard enough to jiggle your ass, almost contemplatively.

“I … like it,” he decides to say, but his easy-to-read face frowns and he opens his mouth again, “I … I love it.” He bites his lip. “I love … I love you. So much.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Jeno gazes into your eyes, and you try your best to reciprocate, because you do reciprocate everything: the looks, the feelings, the love. Slowly, he sits up, rolling his spine toward you. When he gets in your face, millimeters away, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. You trap his hand there, clamping it between your cheek and shoulder, leaning into him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispers, but you both know that your relationship would not survive the depth of either one of your feelings, not after all these years.

“I love you, too, Lee Jeno,” you answer, kissing him before he can say anything else.

He slithers his fingers under the sides of your underwear, twisting them up, his face pliantly moving in your hands. You grind through your panties, and after a moment, you find his dick, grazing just the tip through your ass, all the way to your clit.

“Shit,” he moans. His hands readjust on your waist, gripping tighter, making you moan. “Are we doing this again?” You nod your head, holding him still and diving a bit lower. Your thighs adapt to the new curve in your back as you sloppily kiss his neck, tongue exploring his clavicle. “Then, sit on my face.”

Jeno helps your legs around his face, licking the wetness up your knees. His constant eye contact tells you to watch him, and you have to fight the urge to completely melt on his washboard abs. Jeno pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, a finger hooked around the black lacy material you once mentioned, that you looked forward to wearing after he ripped the other pair. You nearly lodge a complaint at the silence and the emptiness, but then, he moves. He flips you over, simultaneously tearing away your underwear, clawing your ass to ride his face; his chin lifting, abrading just under your clit. Your forehead falls to his groin, nails scratching into his bare legs – smooth and muscular. He starts peppering tiny kisses all over your vulva, tongue probing the further you soak his face. As a distraction, you unbutton his shirt, from the bottom up, fisting the hem, dragging up his torso. You walk backward, on your knees, punching holes into the mattress, exposing his abdomen. Experimentally, you lick a stripe through his well-defined abs. His knee kicks up. You do it again.

“Princess,” he whines, forehead resting on your inner thigh. “I won’t be able to control myself if you touch me like that.”

“I’m barely doing anything,” you mumble, crawling to his leaky cock again. Jeno, vindictively, adds a finger, and another, and another. He licks your pussy, swirling his tongue near your rim, then jumping back to your cunt, joining his three fingers. You fall forward, groaning, and take his cock, clothed, in your hand, drawing his tip along the lines of your lips, suckling the head.

“Fuck.” His head hits the mattress. It makes you feel attractive, sexy, to turn him on like this, and you love it.

“God, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” Jeno returns. He almost nips your skin, lips barely covering his teeth in time. “So much,” he breathes, almost awed.

“Jeno, I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait!” He pulls his face off. “I want to see you.”

Romantic. And you guess it’s the season, that heightens, if not adds, to the sentiment. So, you contribute, trying to give him everything and more – that is what you have been doing all weekend with the train ride and the food and the hotel and the clothes, giving him your whole self.

You scramble off his chest, turning around, to face him. He flickers from your eyes to your hair and combs the staticky baby hairs back down. And you like to think that you’ve gotten to know him more, the last couple of days, think that you’ve gotten more accustomed to the little gestures, the tender indicators which show you something lasting. You lean down again, slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He rolls you under him, trapped by his strong biceps, humping his dick between your legs, not allowing you a single moment of refractor. With his lips sewn into yours, he extracts his cock, lubricating it with your vaginal spit, teasing your hole. You swivel your hips, trying to push him inside. And just you think he might taunt you further, your orgasm hanging by a thread, he presses forward, centimeter by centimeter.

“Fuck,” you both groan, heads thrown back. A beat pulses, letting you, and him adjust to the size, the tightness (even though you spent 24-hours practically attached to his pelvis, skin sticking in this same way).

“Okay,” you exhale, “Okay. Move, please.” But Jeno keeps his head glued on your shoulder, breath shaky, chopped by tiny whimpers. You groan his name, elongating it when your voice chokes on a sob, feeling his thick cock throb inside you, raw and bare. “Jeno, please, I wan – I need to cum.”

Without looking at you, Jeno pulls back his hips, thrusting shallowly, his tip flopping around your cervix, searching for your sweet spot. And he knows when he finds – you know that he knows he found it – because your face contorts, eyes twisting shut, body relying on his touch to see. At some point, he meets you in the middle, greedily rolling his torso on top of you, roughly dragging you through the bed sheets. Jeno kisses you again, the same tender passion rising but more fervent, like he needs to chase the moment, like he missed out on chasing you all these years. So, you slow down, gasping into his mouth, showing him that you are here, with him, for him, forever, if he wants. And you let out a strangled cry, repeating his name like a mantra, hooking your arms under his shoulders:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

He starts fucking you faster, increasing his pace as his name disappears into a series of blurry sobs on your tongue; he smashes his lips on yours, slamming his hips hard – hard even for him, judging by his own low-pitched whines. Your dress chokes your waist, the straps having slid down your arms, off your wrists, and your boobs spring free, somewhat free, since he holds you so close. You pull him in, nails clawing his back, flexing your legs away to give him the freest access to your cunt. He finds some stability in your clit, pushing the pulsing nub into his thrusting cock.

“Tell me you’re going to cum.”

“I’m so close. Please, please, please.”

Jeno pinches your clit. Your back drives off the mattress, trailing his abs, grinding every inch of skin that you possibly can, both of your outfits doing little to obstruct the tension, only adding strenuous friction. His hand punches the mattress, to avoid losing balance, and gives him more leverage to move faster, if that were even possible. In, out, in, out, yank, pull, prod, in, out. You babble more nonsense, brain barely processing quick I love yous and his name, before an earthquake shatters your sympathetic nervous system, breaking down the walls that blocked your orgasm. Your body trembles, rolling upward, accidentally meeting his thrusts, and your pussy spasms, coaxing out weepy hiccups from Jeno. You push two fingers between your bodies, around the base of his cock, helping his orgasm. And you feel the first ribbon of cum shoot deep in your cervix, his shoulders shuddering, but he keeps going, jamming his cum far up your cunt.

You lay there, curling around his arm, taking his cum while he planks above you, watching your spasms lessen. Jeno moves first, removing your clothes and situating the two of you by the pillows. He pulls you into his chest, shimmying your dress off your legs and his shirt off his shoulders. You let yourself close your eyes, melting into his arms, into the weekend, into finally getting the love of your life. And maybe minutes, or an hour, passes, not that you’re counting, because you’ll have him as long as he will have you. And you think he feels the same, know he feels the same when he whispers a phrase that only people who want to be together for a long time say:

“So, when are we getting married?”

[lesharl-eclair]

strollonso fic recs part 1: fics

4 fics from authors who have just the one strollonso fic, and who somehow added SO MUCH to the genre. whose other works are equally insanely mindblowing (the charles/bono fic that i am still not oVER BY THE WAY... the painfully high-quality webbonso. charlos and landoscar.) im crying how do you guys do it (these fics actually changed my life i am not kidding:

all fics below the cut; if you enjoyed these fics, please show the authors comment and kudo love; should you be the author of a fic that's here, and don't want to be here, please reach out to me and your wish is my command :)

victor's spoil by venerat (E, 1.9k)

Two hours later Lance is told he’s going to the winner’s room. “Oh,” Lance says stupidly. "Uh. Me? Now?”

ouUEGHHGEUGHHH the rancid vibes. it's all mind games here. lance's desperation vs nando's casual (playful????!!!) viciousness.

the attention to detail is so stunning. the way the scene is set, the inherent power imbalance, lance so eager to please it's almost painful to watch....

"Even when Fernando aims it warmly, it still makes Lance shiver. That’s because Lance, of course, is fucked up. He’s already getting hard between his legs, just because Fernando chose him. Just from being here, from the anticipation of knowing his role. From the uncertainty of sitting there, waiting." im sobbign <3

this one rearranged my brain a lot. one of my favourite renditions of their dynamic.

***

in the hold by @pressurizer2 (M, 1.9k)

Lance scrunches his nose and makes a noise of protest as soon as Fernando’s hand leaves his ankle.

im still reeling at this concept okay. i havent gotten over it yet i don't think my review is sufficient to describe how good this is but can we talk about this like

"Mouth open and sucking in air, trying his best to keep quiet, Lance feels both compressed and torn apart by the intensity of Fernando’s attention, redirected. He’s being talked about, but not talked to. Praised but not acknowledged. Lifted up high and pushed down hard." such a waaay with words!!!! i am very extremely enamoured.

the push and pull here is perfect: bratty lance (<3) trying to elicit a reaction, nando willing to indulge despite his discipline (he's actually so into it.....it's all a game for him.......uuuueegeghheheu.....) the way tension is built and released is so so masterful and a delight from start to finish :)

***

A Little Bit of Exhibition by @sweetpeapoppy (M, 5.1k)

He’d heard all of the rumours about the way Fernando operated in Formula One, how ruthless he was, how he terrorised his teammates, how he would grind you down until you doubted your own abilities. Lance knew he didn’t need that. But he also knew he didn’t have a choice either, Fernando was coming to Aston Martin whether he liked it or not.

nando as an exhibitionist is...something. how he draws lance in to do the most brazen things, how lance is powerless to resist, is such a tantalising prospect. lawrence's obliviousness makes me want to shake my head patronisingly ("Lawrence agreed, feeling grateful he had another driver pairing that were getting along." ??????? ?????) this fic really shines because of all the details (sweater paws?? hand on nape??? the actual db12 feature???) the "canon compliance" makes your concept so true to life and now i can't unsee it.

the thing that stayed with me was the image of nando bent over the car. it still makes me lose my shit to think about.

***

I make two grand an hour by @kritischetheologie (E, 3.1k)

Lawrence had made Lance read an entire fucking book on this history of Formula 1 before he started the job, and all Lance could remember from the 2000’s was the German guy who won all of them, before the other German guy started winning all of them. But still, who did this guy think he was, trying a line like that on him? Aston Martin wasn’t the type of team that could hire a double world champion. “Michael Schumacher won in 2005,” he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. “Nice try.”

BRATTY LANCE. I MIGHT ACTUALLY CRY

the voicing is nailed doWN to a tee and i am thriving. there is one very interesting roscoe related comparison in there that i will not be forgetting any time soon. this ticks all the boxes for me - backstory, characterisation, humour, there is even Plot !!

also love the offhand mention of glance.....they could have been together in another universe..... "Everyone was short except for George Russell, who was both tall and fast. Why couldn’t his father have invested in Mercedes instead?"

this author brings so much delight and depth to every single one of the pairings she writes about, and i will not be forgetting about this any time soon.

***

that's all for today :) i DO have more strollonso fic recs on the way so keep your eyes peeled if you like what you see !!

if you enjoyed this, or if i missed any fic, please let me know :) drop me an ask mayhaps if you would like more fic recs, and i will try my best to give timely unqualified opinions <3

[hotxcheeto]

Hello,can you please do a smut/nsfw piece of sub Ellie?I would die for one of those.Thank you.

━ 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x G/N!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, smut, fluffy/dom loving smut, fingering ( el receiving ), oral sex ( el rec ), minor hair pulling, dom/sub vibes, slight dubcon, slight degradation?, biting, kissing, dom!reader, sub!ellie

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - This might be very bad because it was written over a course of 3 power outages and classes starting up again, I haven't felt the best lately so it'll be a bit before requests open once again as I'm still finishing some very old ones! Butttt Abby smut coming soon...

REBLOGS ARE EXTREMELY APPRECIATED

It was quiet, the cold fall afternoon keeping you inside, reading a romance book with your nail between your teeth. The moment intense between the two characters keeping you sucked into the pages inhaling the nice scent of the candles you'd lit earlier.

It wasn't late, but it wasn't early. You and Ellie spending your first day off just hanging about with each other, enjoying one another's presence while doing a few things around the small home.

It felt nice.

Not only that, your mind buzzed from the joint you had shared with Ellie just a few moments before. Deciding on cutting it off after you'd gotten fuzzy minded and a bit focused on other things, telling her to do the same before walking off.

You knew her better, but you weren't thinking too clearly.

Now you sat on the bed, knees pulled up, hands loosely holding the book to keep it propped up. It blocked your view of most of Ellie's room, especially the end of the bed. Your girlfriend having been sitting at her desk before appearing at the foot of the mattress watching you silently as you flipped the page.

"Y/n."

You didn't even hear her in the moment, continuing to read the lines while biting on your painted finger, eyebrows furrowing at the plot and the way the characters spoke back and forth.

"Y/nnn..." She dragged it out this time but still it went unheard by you despite the silence of the room, sitting in the same position while flipping the page once again, it was comical, or would be if Ellie wasn't so frazzled and crossing her legs over each other.

Then she got a bit desperate.

The bed dipped which you brushed off, until her head suddenly popped up underneath your book and between your knees. Green eyes finally meeting yours as you quietly giggled at her childish antics, moving so she could get closer to your face.

"What are you doing?" "You weren't answering me." "I was reading, thank you."

She smiled up at you, the whites of her eyes now resembling a bit of a cherry color complimenting the greens, but Ellie had gotten bashful and looked away.

Laying her head down right on your chest having decided to make herself comfortable; snuggling into your shirt and huffing like a bored toddler.

"What is it?" "Talk to me." "About what?" You laughed, trying to continue reading but it was hard when your girlfriend continuously shoved her face into your chest and then peaked up at you with a glare.

"Anything. M'bored." You hummed.

Dragging your nails through her hair continuing to read, a tiny groan filling your ears. Ellie then shifted once more digging her face into your neck, staying still for another moment hoping you'd say something else.

"Ells, let me finish this chapter and we can hang out, m'kay?" You could hear her mumble, allowing you to return back to your book before you began to feel little pecks feathering across your skin.

It made you smile a bit, laying your cheek against her head. Only knowing her to be endearing and to remind you she was still there while you read.

Again you flipped the page, continuing to read on. That was until the kisses turned into small nips along your neck.

Then as you finished the other side you felt her really take a big bite from the side, laughter tumbling from your mouth before you even got to process what she'd done to gain your notice.

"Stop it, I'm almost done you baby." "Y/nnnn..."

The little grumble and a few disappointed murmurers beside your ear finally caused you to turn to face your girlfriend. Grabbing your bookmark from beside you on the bed much to your frustration but adoration for the moron laying against you.

"Alright." You sat up and tossed the book onto the bedside table and leaned on your arm looking down at her laying back beneath you.

"Did you smoke more?" You quietly asked, bringing your hand over to push back her baby hairs from her face, then bringing it down to caress her cheek.

You knew the answer, you just wondered if she'd tell you.

"Yeah." She whispered, doe eyes staring up at you the entire time like a lovesick puppy while you dragged your nail across her jaw.

"I told you not too." You then stated softly, tucking her hair behind her ear while she mumbled out some excuse still admiring your face instead of hearing your words.

"You had more too." "But I don't get all discombobulated when I smoke."

You were high and so was she, you did it all the time, but you knew Ellie when she'd smoke, especially more than you'd give her.

And you knew how clingy she'd get and how much she'd bug you to be with her, and you never minded, you loved her, but she was Ellie.

Which is why you always cut her off, so the poor girl wouldn't send herself into a spiral because you had to leave to pee for a minute.

"You need to start listening to me more." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips, quickly pulling back to sit up nearly missing her disappointment.

"Babe." "What?" You peaked over your shoulder at her seeing her sprawled out on the mattress, shirt rode up and sweats low on her hops.

"Don't leave me." You laughed quietly, laying beside her on your pillows, face to face with the girl.

"Just take a nap, I'll be here when you wake up."

Ellie had other plans though, moving forward to kiss you, rolling her entire body towards your own.

"Ells.." "C'mon please.." She begged, kissing you once more while you smiled. "I told you not to smoke any more of it." "I won't." "Too late.."

She continued pushing at you though, continuing her small pecks to your lips. Swinging on of her legs over yours to keep you close to her while you only continued to smile down at the girl, silently teasing her about what she was doing and how badly she wanted you without quite saying it.

"You need to start listening to me." Your nails tickled the skin just beside her eye before you booped her nose. But it was like Ellie wasn't hearing you, instead kissing you once more while you pulled away with a chuckle.

"And be good." You grabbed her face to squish her cheeks, laughing as you did it when she gave you a face. "Got it?" She nodded while you pecked her squished lips.

But it quickly became more than just a peck, her fingers creeping up and underneath the bottom of her shirt before pulling it off to reveal her black sports bra.

"Way to ask for what you want." "Please?" You blinked a few times, trailing the collarline of her bra before letting out a sigh. Though you had already decided your answer a long while ago.

"You're lucky I love you."

Your hands the moved down to the strings of her sweatpants making sure you moved slowly letting the moment dwindle and her to wallow in the moment.

Untying them in a messy manner letting the pad of your thumb run along the waistband and graze her skin.

"After this you're taking a nap.." You smiled, dragging her pants down her legs to show off her matching boxers, leaning down to kiss and nip at her inner thighs. Her laughter filling your ears.

"Yeah, yeah." Ellie then jumped when you harshly bit at the fat of her skin, licking over it to help with the delicious pain she felt. "Don't start or I'll leave you like this." She didn't respond, a little noise passing her lips instead. "Can I take these off?"

You tugged at the leg of one of her boxers seeing her nod.

"You're so quiet when you're needy..."

You pressed a kiss to her knee, pulling down her underwear to finally expose her aching cunt. Her legs mindlessly widening when you tossed the garment away, laying down on your belly right between her two limbs to gaze at her.

Admire her.

"...aren't you?"

You teased, hearing her whine as her head lolled forward to look at you, green irises meeting your own.

"You should really stop smoking.." You giggled, leaning in as she went to give you another snarkish reply, instead her mouth falling open as you look a long stride up her slit.

One of her legs hiking itself up onto your shoulder, tongue swirling around her clit while her little noises soon flooded the small house.

Your grip creating white indents in her freckled skin as you continued to toy with her sensitive bud. Sucking harshly to get a louder response from her lips.

"Y/n..." She then whispered. "Maybe I'll get up and leave you hanging?" Your finger inched towards her hole, little 'no's' passing her lips at the idea you'd said out loud.

Your poor girlfriend so high she resorted in begging you to keep going, desperate as your first finger pushed right into her cunt. Pressing a light kiss to her clit earning a nice jolt from her body.

"Then you should listen to me." She nodded quickly, eyes stalking you while her mind prayed for movement. "Okay?" "Okay, please fucking move babe, please–" You grinned before moving back in, adding another finger while beginning to pump in and out. The tip of your tongue kitten licking her most sensitive part.

"Wider." You tapped her other leg causing her to move it a bit, but nonetheless you had to shove it aside making your fingers sink even deeper.

A throaty grumble coming from her mouth then a few girlish whines, her hand coming down to rest right on your head, short nails digging into your scalp but it didn't even hurt, it felt good as she tugged on your hair.

"You taste so good Ells.." "Fuck Y/n.." You went a bit faster, watching her face the entire time while keeping your tongue on her clit. "You look so pretty too."

Her shaky breaths and red face keeping the smirk on your face, adding a third finger into her, moving at a pace she couldn't keep up with. Thighs trying to close around your head but you wouldn't let them.

She hated it when you'd watch too, the way your fingers moved in and out and then you'd look back at her while you played with her clit.

It drove crazy.

"Aww, Ells, you getting close?" Your fingers rested on her lower belly, thumb pressing her clit for every time you came up to mock her again.

"Ye–yeah." You grinned at her jumble of words that followed the confirmation. Sweaty and sticking to her while fucking her to the point of her mind going fuzzy and foggy.

Reaching for you as she finally began to tip over edge letting out a much loader moan that sounded so whiney and melodical that it made you just have to lean up to kiss her, I mean you couldn't resist.

Still finger fucking her when you met her damp lips, swallowing up her sounds, the wet squelching sound coming from between her legs still so audible for you both.

Finally you pulled back, slowly leaving the place between her thighs. Moving slow, a few more quiet whimpers tumbling from her lips and out into the air.

You brought one hand up pushing her sweaty hairs from her sticky forehead and the then the other hand, placing your fingers in your mouth.

Forcing her watch you lick them clean before kissing her once more allowing her to taste herself on your tongue.

"You did so good Ells." You then kissed her forehead, holding her as she came back down and looked around with foggy, blown out pupils.

After a moment of quiet, of kissing her cheeks and tracing the pretty bridge of her nose. You whispered a few more things to her getting her cheeks to turn a light scarlett until you told her you were gonna clean her up.

Moving to go off to grab a rag and new boxers for her but the girl had other plans. Tightly wrapping her arms around your waist to keep you there.

"Babe, I gotta clean you up." She groaned instead of using words but nonetheless her grip was released, letting you leave and come back, going as quickly as you could manage.

"No more extra smoking, or I'm not being nice next time."

You spoke, spreading her legs to clean her up.

But she didn't answer, eyes flickering up to her face while you grabbed her fresh underwear. Seeing her half asleep, but her puppy dog eyes were still trained to watch you, even if she had no fucking idea was you were saying, only basking in you taking care of her.

"I love you, you know that?" "Mhm." "Good."

[imminent-danger-came]

Pinned Post

Hello and Greetings! Call me Imp!

☽ ✦ She/Her - They/Them - Early 20s - I love tdp, lmk, atla, kh, dunmeshi, and plenty more! I'm currently in my tragedy arc ✦ ☾

ABOUT ME:

This truly is a multi-fandom blog (no side-blogs, we die like men), but I've been posting a lot of lmk and tdp! I'm not an anti, and I try to tag for trigger warnings, but if I miss something please let me know. Some other things about me: I'm majoring in Speech Language Pathology, I have 4 dogs, and my favorite color is lime green. If you ever want to add anything to any of my tags, feel free to @ me or send whatever into my ask box! Let's play toys together.

۩ "you've made a structural mistake with life & death my dear" (Antigonick, tr. Anne Carson) ۩ ۩ "And you hear their garbled words, spoken in sing song voices like a parody of you. It really is such a terrible thing to know." (X) ۩ ۩ "there is no moral. the wolf eats you one day and until it does, the forest is beautiful." (X) ۩

MY TAGS (WELL, SOME OF THEM):

☢ art / my art (For the stuff I draw) ☢ my edits (For the emo edits I make) ☢ my videos (For the videos I create) ☢ torment nexus (For posts complaining about fandom and general fandom nonsense) ☢ were tag (For werewolves, obviously. If you see something tagged as "the wolf loves you", that's my og book idea that I'm developing with some friends). I also have wizard (wizards :) ), pirate (x marks the spot), and unicorn (unicools) tags. ☢ fate vs freewill (For all my Fate VS Freewill needs) ☢ poetry tag / the narrative (For the poetry I like) ☢ lmk parallels (Likewise, if there is a motif or theme for lmk I want to keep track of, it will be something along the lines of "lmk hand motif" or "lmk theme: hurt") ☢ lmk analysis (For all of that good lego analysis I write)

OTHER PLACES TO FIND ME:

☢ My Twitter! (Way more inactive than here) ☢ My Youtube Channel (I post silly edits, maybe the occasional amv or animatic) ☢ Imp's Official LMK Recs Playlist (from this tag)

[muninnhuginn]

here we go. please ignore the quality, but these are a few of the media I highly rate that I've sorted into groups based on shared qualities with other media. the idea is along the lines of "if you like this show because of y theme, then you may also like z show which shares said theme".

a few bonus recs that I couldn't fit on this list (because I either didn't want to give stuff away or because they fit into multiple different groups at once):

Link Click (donghua) (time travel, first season much more about individual stories, second season more plot-based. Two seasons out at present.)

Spy x Family (animanga) (yes, I know everyone knows about this one already, but it's one of those shows that strikes such a good balance between the humour and the drama. and the way that the manga arcs start to increasingly weave in social commentary is so well done. Ongoing series.)

Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju (animanga) (full disclosure, I haven't yet completed this hence not wanting to put it down yet, but so far it's really impressed me. It's a complete series.)

Full list of media (and some more tidbits) below the cut:

Serial Experiments Lain (anime)

Complete

Really fascinating dive into the Internet, identity, and conspiracy theories. Despite being released over two decades ago, it's somehow more relevant nowadays. That said, there is an underlying thread of tension and it's hard to piece together what's happening at times. Very surreal and heavy on the unreality. So, it's probably not for everyone (and it'll be fairly obvious early either way), but if that sounds like your jam, then go for it. (EDIT: Also, I just realised that I entirely forgot that this series also belongs in the ND-coded protag circle because Lain's whole deal has a lot of overlap with schizophrenia/psychosis in general.)

Jibaku Shonen Hanako-kun (animanga)

Ongoing

The anime is an incomplete adaptation for this (though it does have Ogata Megumi) and the manga goes much further. It's a monthly release and the art is gorgeous. It's centred around a school where urban legends come to life as the supernatural. I've seen some people say it's fairly light-hearted a series before, but I can't really say I agree, especially when it comes to the later chapters. It can play into particular anime tropes at times though.

Princess Tutu (anime)

Complete.

There is also a manga, but I've heard it's pretty different and I've not tried it so can't really comment. If you like ballet and European folktales then this is the show for you. It's... probably aimed at the lowest age range of all of my recs and it does show at times, but I'd point to it as an example of how just because a show is aimed at younger ages, that doesn't mean it has to look down on you. Anyway, it's neat seeing the protagonists interact with the concept of the story they themselves are a part of.

Revolutionary Girl Utena (anime)

Complete.

The manga for this is meant to be pretty different so keeping this rec to the anime. Obligatory "look up trigger warnings" if you think you may stumble into something you can't handle, because this show sure covers a lot of fairly dark topics. Still, it's pretty surreal and at times ridiculous so it's not all dark all the time. The premise is around a girl who wants to be a prince, who participates in duels for the hand of the 'rose bride'.

Puella Magi Madoka Magica (animanga)

Complete (og series)

The manga iirc is fairly similar, but the anime is really good in its presentation so would recommend anime over manga for sure. The soundtrack and the way it's directed both elevate the story massively. Anyway, twelve episode season, with a movie afterwards you can decide whether to proceed to or not. It's about what it takes to be a magical girl, and what is taken. I imagine most people nowadays know the big twists already but in case you don't, I'll just say that the foreshadowing in it is one of my favourite things. So much rewatch value.

The Locked Tomb (book series)

Ongoing. Three books out, with fourth expected to be final.

Speaking of foreshadowing, this series has so many levels of foreshadowing going on, I think it would take many rereads to catch it all. The first book in the series is a relatively standard murder mystery, but after that, the author immediately cashes in the good will earnt to become increasingly experimental. Each book therefore is pretty different genre-wise, despite being set in the same universe and progressing the same story. Anyway, I know this one isn't for everyone, but I'd say at the very least give Gideon a shot.

Orphan Black (Canadian drama)

Complete.

This is a co-production between a US and CA company but Wikipedia classes it as Canadian so okay let's do that. Okay. Orphan Black is about discovering you may be a scientific experiment and the questions inherent in that. In this case, it's about clones. The main actor has such range and she plays half the cast and somehow makes it work. I will say it takes her a couple of episodes sometimes to get the accents right (I took psychic damage occasionally), but once she's got it down she keeps it. This one is another genre blender, with different clones progressing different subplots. One of them off doing an investigation whilst another is trying desperately to live in a soap, etc.

Severance (US drama)

Season one complete, season two ambiguously in the works.

More science experimentation. This show is based on a premise wherein people can partition off parts of their brains so that their work selves are entirely independent of their non-work selves. The two selves have no shared memories, but they are in theory the same person. It brings up a lot of questions about nature vs nuture, along with commentary on religious cults and workplace rights.

Oddtaxi (anime)

Complete.

We follow a taxi driver through his daily life, picking up passengers, dropping them off, getting accidentally (or maybe--) involved with the local gang members. It's pretty chill, but as you go on you realise just how thoroughly everyone's lives are intertwined with each other. And there's a mystery or ten to be solved. If our driver guy can be bothered. This and Reset both fit into the incredibly small niche I like to call "character-based mystery show with social commentary set in a vehicle". Very catchy.

Reset (cdrama)

Completed

Time loop scenario where a pair of strangers are caught on a bus that keeps blowing up and have to try and figure out how to escape. I feel like the pace at which the audience figures out stuff is timed really well to whenabouts the characters figure out stuff, but there's a lot of foreshadowing I didn't realise until I rewatched a few episodes. Just, really solid mystery and character drama.

March comes in like a lion (animanga)

Ongoing (manga)

Full disclosure. I have only watched the anime of this and from some of what I've heard about the later parts of the manga it's likely to stay that way, but! The parts covered by the anime are something special. I grouped together this series with Skip and Loafer and Frieren because they're very... they're all about 'moving forwards, despite'. So, at the start of this series, the mc is pretty depressed, but as it goes on you get to see him slowly unfurl out of that. You get to see him make new connections, progress with shogi (aka, what the series is ostensibly about), and just generally let himself live again. It's a very wholesome anime without letting itself forget the darker aspects of life.

Skip and Loafer (animanga)

Ongoing (manga). Season one of anime complete.

This is a definite comfort show and has one of my favourite depictions of developing friendships (I want to say something here about the intersection of platonic and romantic but I'm not sure how to put it). This show/manga follows Mitsumi as she starts at a city school after growing up in a rural village. It has her meet new obstacles and new people and shows how they all influence each other. Overall, it's a fairly gentle story, but I think it pulls off heartwarming so well because it can also do heartwrenching.

Frieren (animanga)

Ongoing.

I may regret putting an ongoing anime here before it's even finished airing (staying anime-only for now personally). So far though, this is a show about grief, and living life beyond that. It's a show that could so easily be a tragedy but chooses to venture beyond instead. It follows Frieren (an elf with a long lifespan) as she realises that she hasn't really allowed herself to know people properly and decides to fix that. It's a fairly standard fantasy setting so it's hard to describe what's so appealing about it, but it's very intentional with its parallels, with putting the words of long dead characters in the mouths of those who never knew them. Very cyclical. The first four episodes released in one go, so if you're thinking of giving it a shot, I'd watch those four before deciding whether to drop.

Stranger (kdrama)

Two seasons out. Can be taken as complete at end of either season though still open for more.

So, it's a drama about prosecutors/corruption, a lot of the standard kdrama jazz. It has one of my favourite pairs of besties though and I love how many threads are woven through all levels. It's a show that's heavily plotty (the number of times you're forced to recalculate as you get more pieces is ridiculous but in a good way), but despite that, doesn't neglect the characters.

Mob Psycho 100 (animanga)

Completed.

An OP protagonist would rather focus on his non-psychic attributes. I tend to struggle with OP protagonists sometimes, but this show/manga deals with it well, because the point isn't actually *about* Mob's powers. It's more about how his powers are linked to his emotions. There are plenty of fights (and they're all incredibly well animated), but the tension isn't usually in "who will win", and I don't mean that in a bad way at all. Anyway, the show is for the most part a comedy (it does have some off-colour jokes at times unfortunately, though they're mostly relegated to specific episodes at least), but my favourite parts are always when you get to see the other side of things. This show also has Reigen, for whatever that's worth. (I hate the fact he's so well-written. Why couldn't he just be the meme and nothing else.)

Arcane (US animated)

Season one complete. Season two in the works.

You don't need League knowledge for this despite it being based off it. This (like a few of the others actually) is a three-act structure following Vi and Jinx as they grow up in the shadows of Piltover. Visually, it's a gorgeous series, and the mix of 3d and 2d works so well. Despite being only nine episodes long, it manages to fully develop scores of characters with their own interweaving subplots, all culminating with the finale. It's another one with social commentary, in this case, it's not particularly subtle, but it doesn't actually need to be. And it does the showing not just the telling so it works in tandem.

Blue Eye Samurai (US animated)

Season one complete.

And now we reach the revenge trio of shows. I will fully admit I started this series because I saw many a pretty gifset across my dash. And the aesthetics absolutely hold up. This is an Edo-era revenge quest by a samurai who has given up on happiness. It starts fairly tropey and by-the-book, but it pulls off the execution solidly and infuses a lot of symbolism into the main trio (especially Mizu, but Akemi gets plenty as Mizu's reflection). There is a decent amount of sex and graphic violence though and, given that the show deliberately conveys various characterisation points through them, they're not really skippable. Try not to wince at the pronunciation of Japanese words either. It's old-style English anime dub level a lot of the time when it comes to names/places, despite a lot of the setting itself being relatively well-researched from what I can tell. I guess it's just a disparity between the voice actors and the writers.

Nirvana in Fire (cdrama)

Complete. There is a season two but it's a next generation deal.

Terminally ill guy returns to the capital to get justice for a betrayal before his time is up. Despite how grim that sounds, the show itself has a much nicer balance between the light-hearted and the serious. It does chuck you right into the depths from the very start (I know a lot of people refer to charts for relationships for the first few episodes until they get the hang of it), but once you start to understand, you can really get the impact. How the previous generation has echoed onto the current generation. Also, the main character is Mei Changsu, one of my favourite schemers. He knows how to troll, even (or maybe especially?) as he's plotting someone's downfall.

The Glory (kdrama)

Complete.

The mc in this show (Moon Dong-eun) was bullied at highschool, to the extent she was suicidal. The show is about her revenge on the bullies, as she sets the pieces for their own flaws to fell them. I will say for this, that the first episode is imo the darkest in tone. The later episodes do still touch on darker topics (sexual assault, suicide again), but for the most part, the first episode is the darkest to help you understand why she's willing to go to the lengths she is. And yet, despite that, a line of hope runs through the show. There's a line early on about the solidarity between victims vs the solidarity between abusers and it's a real thesis statement for the whole show.

[treesofgreen]

I'd love to see what you're writing finished or no :)

Thank you! That's very kind. Most of it is emotionally overwrought stream of consciousness type stuff but I do have this little bit of something (a first draft but actually coherent! and not drowning in angst lol). nebulous post reunion everything is good now time frame/they looted a piano/if you guessed Ed and Izzy composed Heart and Soul in the 1600s you would be correct.

*

The pianoforte is beautiful, sleek whorls in the wood, impossibly modern, too big for the captain’s quarters and being wrangled into a space beneath the windows in the rec room by Wee John and Fang.

It’s beautiful, Stede thinks, excited at the possibility to have the crew learn music along with their letters, excited to learn more himself, to have Edward teach him. He’s always tried but has no real talent or ear for music, plunking uselessly and clumsily at the keys. Unteachable a tutor had declared, accusing him of not practicing even though he did his minutes dutifully. He’d thought his desire to learn had died in that moment but years and years later he had felt it flicker when he listened to Alma taking her lessons. He’d thought of asking Mary to teach him too, but never did. He thought of asking Alma to show him what she’d learned, but never did.

He thought of asking Edward, after he’d seen him play at the party, but never did.

“Yes, there, that’s lovely,” Stede says. “A little to the left.”

When it’s where he wants it, below the soft light coming from the windows, he steps back and crosses his arms, pleased and satisfied. “Perfect,” he says, and Edward grins at him. Frenchie comes in carrying the bench upright in his arms, hugging the length of it to his body like a person.

Edward leans over and gives Stede a kiss, then practically bounces over to the piano. He runs his hand over the length of the keys, back and forth, the sound filling the room. It’s lusher, richer than any piano Stede has heard and fills the room with warmth. Ed strikes a few more keys, playing scales, then stops and plays a slow melody just with his right hand. dun dun dun dundun dun dun. Sits down and does it again, just the few notes, a little softer and slower than before.

“That’s pretty,” Stede says. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Ed says. “It’s something Izzy and I made up.” He half turns on the bench to look over at Izzy, who’s sitting next to Lucius looking through the books, his mouth a thin line and his eyes stuck firmly to the page. He plays the notes again and if Izzy’s eyes could bore a hole in the paper they would. “Remember, Iz?”

Stede and Lucius and Frenchie are looking at Izzy now too, and Izzy makes a low, vague noise of confirmation in his throat. He keeps his eyes on the page.

“Oh?” Stede says. He feels a small pang of jealousy. “You play too, Izzy? That’s wonderful.”

Izzy makes the sound again. “Edward’s a much better player.”

“Yeah,” Ed says, running the scales again, his fingers loose over the keys. “But you’re a much better singer.”

“You can sing?” Lucius says, surprised. Frenchie grins.

“I can sing,” Izzy says, deeply tired and a little red in the ears as he glares at Edward. “I choose not to.”

“Then play with me,” Ed cajoles. He plays those notes again. Hesitates. Says “izzy” in the way he does when he means “please.”

“It’s been too long,” Izzy says, but he puts his book and paper down and moves over to the bench. He looks at Stede warily for a moment and Stede nods, smiles through another pang of jealousy.

Izzy sighs. Ed grins and scoots over enough that Izzy can sit beside him. Izzy removes his glove and then runs his bare hands silently over the keys, skin to ivory, playing invisible notes for a moment as Frenchie and Stede crowd nearer the piano.

Ed starts with those notes again, and Izzy comes in right after with his left hand, a little higher, plinking. Ed grins enormously and it lasts only a minute but they play together seamlessly. Ed bumps Izzy’s shoulder with his and Izzy shoulders him back, their eyes focused on their own hands, on each other’s hands, their movements as sure as the tide.

Izzy’s part is finished first and he lets his fingers rest on the keys, his notes fading away as Edward finishes with a quiet flourish. Stede and Frenchie clap and Lucius calls out a “bravo” from where he’s sketching in his book.

“Knew you’d remember,” Ed says, slinging his arm around Izzy’s shoulder, and Izzy smiles, almost, and then Ed leans over and presses a kiss right to his temple and Izzy’s eyes close, his cheeks flushed. He tries to stand up, squirming against Ed’s hold but Ed holds him close for just a moment more before he lets him go.  

“I have to make sure they’re finished up there,” Izzy grumbles. He puts his glove back on. He doesn’t sound angry. “If you won’t be needing me for anything else, captains?”

“No, no, you can go,” Stede says. He’d expected to feel more jealous, now, but he doesn’t. He only feels happy for Edward, for Izzy.

“Iz,” Ed says, in the way he does when he means thank you.

Izzy’s lips quirk as he dips his head and takes his leave.

Ed smiles, reaching out to tug on Stede’s coat and pull him down next to him and Stede winds his hand around Edward’s, letting him move his fingers softly along the keys. 

[love-too]

ARO/ACE MEDIA REC

So, I decided to make one of this too with the books and movies/series I've actually seen to keep track of my impressions.

Btw these are just little descriptions to avoid spoilers, but before reading or watching, please, do seek more information about the plot and the eventual warnings that come with it!

BOOKS

Seven Ways We Lie - ace rep

The story follows 7 students who represent the 7 deadly sin. They all get caught up in a secret at their high school while having to deal with their messy lives.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman - ace rep

It talks about friendship and relationships and the difficulties that come with loneliness.

Solitaire by Alice Oseman - ace rep

It follows the story of Tori and her struggles with loneliness and making friends until Michael comes along.

How to be a normal person by TJ Klune - ace rep

One of the most moving father-son relationships I've ever read. This book is a bit weird, but really lovely.

Heartsong by TJ Klune - ace rep

It's about werewolves and magicians and found family. The relationship that the ace characters is in is really cute.

The Captive Prince series by CS Pacat - demi rep (?)

I was on the fence on wether to include this or not, but ultimately I did because. It's historical fantasy and it deals with abuse, so heads-up!

The all for the game series by Nora Sakavic - demisexual rep

The story of Neil Josten, an orphan on the run that turns to Exy to try to survive. It's about found family and it deals really well with the concept of consent.

COMICS

Wandering by pearsfears - aroace rep

This story is about sport, college, body issues and friendship. The artstyle is really soothing.

MOVIES/SERIES

Koisenu Futari - aroace rep

Arguably one of the best series on the topic I've ever seen. The characters talk about it out loud and with no shame and it explores the idea of a queer platonic relationship.

Heartbreak High - ace rep

It deals with the difficulties and incomprehensions that may come when one person in a relationship is asexual and/or sex repulsed and the other is not.

Heartstopper - aroace rep

Alice Oseman once again, this time with aroace rep from Isaac in the second season.

One Piece Live Action - ace/aroace rep

I never read the manga or saw the anime, but this one really surprised me. Luffy truly feels aroace with lines like "you look like Nami" (and Zoro's "you're asking the wrong guy"!) and loyalty that makes you think of the possibility of a qpr. Plus, found family! (Again, idk if it's confirmed. I know nothing about one piece, but the vibes are surely there).

[judgementdaysunshine]

I HIT 304 FOLLOWERS TIME TO CELEBRATE!

💫 song lyrics - Send me a character and I'll send a line of lyrics from a song

🍓 perfect - Send me five words and I'll make you a mood board

👉👈 you're enough - Send this and I will send you feel good fics from other writers and myself for you to read

Pretzel 🥨 ~ send me all the fandoms/characters you like and I'll send you my favorite fanfics recs and one of mine

🥺 aesthetic - Send me a character and prompt and I'll make you an aesthetic

🤞 self made prompts - Send me prompts you made and I will write a fic from a character of your choice

Donuts 🍩 ~ ask me anything and I'll answer honestly (nothing NSFW please)!

☀️ sun - send me this emoji + a fandom + a trope and I'lI write little drabbles for some of the characters in the fandom using the trope as a prompt! you're welcome to be specific with which characters

💧 water - send me this emoii + a character i write for + a line of dialogue and i'll write you a fic using the line of dialogue as a starter

🍃 leaf - send me this emoji + a character i write for + any word of your choosing and i'll write a drabble using the word as a prompt

Chocolate Bar 🍫 ~ send me this sweet treat and I'll tell you a secret!

🌲 tree - send me this emoji + a description of yourself + a fandom/fandoms and i'll tell you what character i would ship you with! use as much detail as you'd like, and i'll do my best with what i have

🍷 - talk shit to me! (jk... unless...) Tell me your unpopular opinions, rant, vent

📃 sheet music - send me a few lyrics (no more than five lines) along with a character and i’ll write a blurb

Cookies 🍪 ~ tell me about yourself, and the fandom you like, and I'll match you with someone!

🌹- ask me for media recs! (music, movies, fics, books, etc.)

Lollipop 🍭 ~ send me this sweet treat if you are feeling down, and I'll send you a cute animal pic!

Pies 🥧 ~ ask me about my recommendations (songs, movies, and books)!

Cakes 🍰 ~ send me a color or theme and I'll make you a moodboard!

Ice Cream 🍦 ~ send me a character/celebrity and I'll make you a text message phone wallpaper!

✨ Art - Send me this asking if you want to make me art and what you're drawing for me!

Tags:@musings-of-a-rose @justsomerandomfanfic @eatmyshortsz666 @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @mbruben-stein @readingfan @everythinganime @auntphibian @kip-and-kit-nightengale @80s4life @gtgbabie0

[another-dr-another]

ok. maeda, take tsu to his dorm. do not stray from the path and leave him to die again. please. please. please. - iris

Maeda, narrating - Well, there’s no reason not to hang out with Tsurugi.

Maeda - …Though, I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m trying to get out of helping with the rec room…

~*~

Maeda - We’ll walk you back to your dorm!

Maeda - Means we don’t have to go up flights and flights of stairs…

Tsurugi - ! Okay~

Taira - …

Tsurugi - …

Maeda - …

//They all stand in silence, staring at the floor, inspecting their nails, and trying to look at one another without making awkward eye contact.

Tsurugi - …

//Tsurugi steps between Taira and Maeda- they aren’t standing side by side, but it’s still a bit awkward, and both Maeda and Taira try to turn and step away to allow him to pass by. When they turn, they wind up facing the same direction as him, and Tsurugi jumps on the opportunity to link arms with both of his classmates, and start pulling them along.

Tsurugi - We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!

Taira - No-

Maeda - …First three were Dorothy, the Scarecrow, and the Tin-Man, right?

Tsurugi - Dorothy, Scarecrow, and Toto.

//Despite the fact they’ve only made it a few paces down the hallway, Tsurugi quickly disentangles himself from Maeda and Taira. If nothing else, it got them to start walking- they’re now making steady progress towards the dorms.

Maeda - …Who’s the dog?

Tsurugi - In later books, Toto was able to talk… I think it was that he gained the ability, but didn’t care to use it, so he only began to speak when prompted?

Tsurugi - I could be wrong though-

Tsurugi - Oh, I wonder if the store has copies of the Oz books!

Maeda - How many books are there?

Tsurugi - …Many. Fourteen by the original author, though?

Tsurugi - Did you watch the anime adaptation?

Maeda - Mmm… bits and pieces of it, yeah.

Tsurugi - And you, Taira?

Taira - …I’ve seen it.

Tsurugi - Hm.

Tsurugi - They adapted books one through three, then skipped to six… which is a shame, ‘cuz I liked four and five. 

//They’ve made it to Tsurugi’s dorm- after a moment of messing with his handbook, Tsurugi gets the door open, and they enter.

Maeda - …I’ve been in your dorm before, right, Tsurugi?

Tsurugi - I think so…

Tsurugi - Hard to say! It’s hard to remember… I frequently have to deal with suitors and solicitors alike…

//Tsurugi turns on the main light in his dorm- main light, to differentiate from the strings of lights covering his walls. It’s sparse in terms of furniture- there’s bookshelves, about as high as Maeda’s waist, lining the edges of the room. Similar to Maeda’s room, there’s a bed in one corner, a closet, the door to the bathroom, and slim else- ignoring the camera and monitor found in every room. There are a few things scattered around, on his floor, his bed, and the top of the shelves, but overwhelmingly, it’s the shelves that are cluttered and messy. A majority of the shelves are home to some form of container, from boxes to bins, and yet, there are things on top of the boxes, dangling from the pins, and piled on top of even more clutter. 

Tsurugi - You weren’t the one who was trying to convert me to their religion, yeah?

Maeda - Nah, the mastermind confiscated my pamphlets at the start of the game, and I haven’t seen them since. 

Tsurugi - That is sooo mean of them…

Maeda - Was it maybe Uehara that you’re thinking of?

//Tsurugi has been kicking things under his bed. He now seems to be just about satisfied with that step of his cleaning process.

Tsurugi - …Y’know, I’d make a quip about Uehara not liking to talk about religion, but…

Tsurugi - I dunno, I just don’t feel like it.

Tsurugi - Uehara’s really religion-smart, honestly… yes, from a theological perspective, but even that is kinda… through the lens of the relationship between religion and people.

Tsurugi - I think he’d rather die than try to convert anyone, though-

Tsurugi, laughing - Someone comes to him to get his perspective on if they should convert to Christianity, and he just starts begging them to leave.

Taira - What about your thoughts on religion, Tsurugi?

Tsurugi - Uh… none.

Tsurugi - Like, genuinely, I don’t have much of an opinion on any of that- it’s not something I think about too often.

Tsurugi - There’s too much going on here and now that I have to worry about! 

Tsurugi - Oh- also, I’m huge on separation between church and state, so…

Tsurugi - As long as every legal policy is decided by me going “Pleeease” at world leaders, I think it’s good that I don’t really think about religion.

Taira - Ahhh… that all tracks, yeah.

Tsurugi - What about you, though?

Taira - Well…

Taira - …I mean…

Taira - …Honestly, I don’t know what to say… I don’t think I can word my thoughts on that all.

Tsurugi - Ahhh, that’s fair~

Maeda - I like being in your room, Tsurugi…

Tsurugi - Oh, right? It has a nice atmosphere…

Tsurugi - It’s different than my room at home, but honestly, I think it’s best for a killing game… 

Tsurugi - If I turn the lights on, it’s still pretty dim, and it’s always cool in here, so…

Tsurugi - …I don’t do interior design, I really can’t word things when it comes to room layouts.

Tsurugi - It’s very nice that it isn’t on fire! That would probably be less fun!

Tsurugi - Oh, I wonder if people will want the lights on or off…

Tsurugi - If it comes down to it, I think I’m in favor of the lights being on… they’re dark in tone, like… they shouldn’t really keep people up?

Tsurugi - Uh… like how different wavelengths, is it? For streetlights and stuff, blue versus yellow tones…

Tsurugi - …Ah, I can’t remember the science behind all that, whatever…

//It’s silent for a moment. Both Taira and Maeda have found somewhere to sit- Taira, on one of Tsurugi’s shelves, and Maeda, on Tsurugi’s bed. Tsurugi pays them no mind, and continues to wander around, clearing up his room.

Maeda - …Really, Tsurugi’s room is hardly messy at all. 

Maeda - I get wanting to tidy up before having people spend the night, but still…-

Maeda - !

Maeda - Tsurugi, didn’t you say you want to clean your room on your own?

Tsurugi - …!

Tsurugi - Yeah! But, it’s all okay… I don’t mind you both being here! 

Tsurugi - If I did, I’d have told you…

Tsurugi - Stop! 

Tsurugi - …That’s all I’d say. Mhm. Just stop…

Taira - Do you want a hand, since we’re here?

//Tsurugi isn’t facing Maeda, but Maeda can see the side of his face- and watches, as Tsu’s nose crinkles. He isn’t a fan of that idea.

Tsurugi - I do not want a hand. It is very kind of you to offer that, but the thought of someone touching my things makes my organs turn into eels.

Tsurugi - It is very slippery-slick-slimy, and I do not enjoy it!

Tsurugi - …Stop!

Tsurugi - There we go, now that works.

Taira - …

//She laughs a bit.

Taira - If I were Inori, I’d probably be bemoaning the fact I’m missing out on a paycheck…

Tsurugi - Ah, that’s totally right!

//He laughs as well.

Tsurugi - Hmm… it’s very sad, what Inori went through… she deserved to make friends, and have loved ones.

Tsurugi - …But, anyways…

Maeda - …Have you done any laundry since we got here?

Tsurugi - Oh! Uh, my laundry basket looks super full, but it’s really not that bad…

Tsurugi - I’ve washed a few things, it’s just… if I only wash things I know I like to wear, then I only have to do one load of laundry,

Tsurugi - Which is less to keep track of, and less things that are operating on a due date?

Tsurugi - Plus, we haven’t really been here too long…

Tsurugi - …I should put that in the closet, actually-

//Tsurugi grabs his laundry basket, and starts dragging it over to his closet. It’s then that Maeda realizes two things. First, whoever came in last forgot to close the door behind him. Second, Maeda hears footsteps once again.

Tomori - Tsu?

Tsurugi - Ah! Tomori, hiiii!

//And in wanders Tomori, holding a few movies which Maeda recognizes from the night before.

Tomori - Oh, hi Taira, hi Maeda.

Tsurugi - Maeda and Taira have been keeping me safe…

Tomori - Ah… a noble profession! Bit of a step down from dish-washing, though…

Taira - Bit ill-taste to make a quip about washing dishes while you’re a cheerleader, no?

Tomori - Did it come across bad? I didn’t mean it too- both my mom and sister are waitresses, and they’ve dealt with washing dishes in the past…

Tomori - No reason to scorn things that need to be done- it just doesn’t sound as interesting as hanging out with classmates-

Tomori - …

//Tomori pales.

Tomori - Hey, if we ever get out of here, don’t tell my mom what I said about my sister, yeah?

Maeda - …About the fact that she’s a waitress?

Tomori - Yeah, she doesn’t really know…

Higa - …Hm.

//Maeda jumps- caught up with Tomori (namely, her struggle to find somewhere to set her movies, before she gave up, and set them on the floor), he failed to notice Higa, entering right behind her. He was holding more movies than Tomori- past-tense, as he’s now set them down next to Taira. It must’ve been too many for him to place with ease; Maeda assumes this, at least, as Taira was holding a few cases when Maeda finally noticed Higa’s presence.

Tsurugi - Oh!

//Tsurugi has finally poked back out of the closet.

Tsurugi - Howdy, Higa.

Tsurugi - So many greetings…

Higa - Hello.

Tsurugi - Taira, Maeda, you need to greet everybody now…

Maeda, Taira, in-sync - Hi, everybody.

Tsurugi - Yay, yay…

//Higa is leaning against the doorframe, near Taira. They’ve successfully stacked all the movies he was carrying, officially ending Maeda’s interest in them, for the moment. 

Tsurugi - Tomoriiii?

Tomori - Yesss?

Tsurugi - Why are you putting more mess in the room that I’m trying to clean?

Tomori - …Because I caaaan…

Tomori - Higa and I were going to bring these back to my room- I just saw your door was open, and decided to visit.

Tsurugi - Ah! Such a good neighbor…

Tomori - You forgive me for the movies?

Tsurugi - Mhm. They’re housewarming gifts.

Maeda - Oh, did you just move in?

Tsurugi - No, everyone just decided to give me time to get settled- that’s what the sleepover is really for.

Tomori - Do you know what gift you’re bringing for Tsurugi’s housewarming party, Maeda?

Maeda - …

Maeda - So, anyways…

Taira - …I can be neighborly, and go put the movies away for you, Tomori.

Tomori - Oh! It’s okay, I’ll get them taken care of in just a moment…

//Taira gets up from the bookshelf.

Taira - No, really, I don’t mind- it lets me stretch my legs a bit.

Taira - Just pass me your handbook, and Higa and I will go set them in your room- can I just set them on your bed?

Tomori - …Yeah, alright- thank you, Taira.

Taira - No problem.

//Taira takes Tomori’s handbook from her, and grabs the movies Tomori set on the floor earlier.

Taira - Higa, let’s go.

Higa - …Why do I keep getting volunteered for this…

Tomori - …Thank youuu…

//Higa glances at Tomori, visibly a bit surprised- before following Taira out of Tsurugi’s room.

Maeda - …

//It’s silent for a moment, until Tsurugi groans, and begins tidying once again.

Tsurugi - Okay…-

Tsurugi - Oh, I should go make sure the bathroom is somewhat organized…

//Tsurugi wanders off, leaving Tomori and Maeda to their own devices. Maeda is still on Tsurugi’s bed, and Tomori remains on the floor by Tsurugi’s closet. 

Tomori - …

Tomori - Ugh… I still need to grab the projector from the rec room…

Maeda - Right- how’s cleaning up going?

Tomori - ‘S fine… we’re just about done, like… Higa’s free after he puts the movies away, that was his one task to get done to help out-

Tomori - Most people just had to go put something or other back where it belongs-

Tomori - We thought about bringing stuff to Tsurugi’s room, for the sleepover, because what’s the point in putting things away when you know you’ll use them again in just a few hours, y’know?

Tomori - But, we weren’t sure what to bring, and everything is going to the first floor, so…

Maeda - …Oh, do you think we’ll use the projector tonight, during the sleepover? 

Maeda - We could’ve left some movies in here.

Tomori - …That’s a solid point- my room is right next to Tsurugi’s, so it isn’t like it’ll be a long walk if we decide we want the projector, but-

Tomori, loudly - Tsurugi!

Tsurugi - Yeah?

Tomori - Do you want me to put the projector in here, for the sleepover?

//…Silence.

Tomori - …

Maeda - …

//In a move extremely reminiscent of earlier today, on the stairwell- Tsurugi slowly begins to peer around the bathroom door.

Tsurugi - …

//He slowly shakes his head no- once again, he’s visibly against the concept.

Tomori - No? Really?

Tsurugi - I don’t know where to put it…

Tsurugi - Gimme like… two seconds, I actually want to bring something up-

//Tomori and Maeda wait. Maeda shifts around, kicking off his shoes, and bringing his legs up to rest on Tsurugi’s bed. Tomori toys with a lock of her hair, and stares at the ceiling.

Tsurugi - …Okay, howdy-

Tsurugi - Tomori, I have no clue how to lay things out for the sleepover.

Tomori - Oh?

Tsurugi - You help too, Maeda.

Tsurugi - There’s eleven people, so we need enough room for everyone to lie down-

Tsurugi - People could bring in their mattresses if they want, and I don’t mind taking mine from my bed…

Tsurugi - But, also, there’s some tatami mats in the store, and I know some people have been using those…

Tsurugi - …

Tsurugi - I’m trying… to make sure everything is ready to go, but I’m not sure where to start, and I think it’s getting me overwhelmed.

Tomori - …People have been using tatami?

Tsurugi - Yeah… uh, Kobashikawa at the least, but by that logic, I’d think Ōtori as well? 

Tomori - Huh…

Tomori - Well, I’d say to just find everyone, and ask their preferences.

Tomori - We can bring a tatami mat in from the store, take your mattress from your bed, and assuming we want more mattresses, we can just start taking them from nearby rooms.

Tomori - We’ll get mine first, then grab others- but we’ll do that later today, after we know what people want.

Tsurugi - …Okay…

Tsurugi - I would think that we can just ask people when they get here, but I don’t want to try and navigate around a ton of people, and all their things…

Tsurugi - Oh, I hope sleeping arrangements won’t be an issue…

Maeda - …I mean-

Maeda - Personally, I’m fine with wherever I end up, I imagine a lot of people will be the same.

Maeda - People will get themselves sorted out, so sure, set things up, but people will change around as they need to, it’ll go fine.

Tsurugi - …Yeah, alright.

Tsurugi - …If anyone has any serious issue with things, we can use them for our campfire.

Tomori - We’re going to have a campfire?

Tsurugi - Yeah, I thought my room could use the smell of smoke… doesn’t an enclosed space like this with poor ventilation seem like a really good place for a fire?

Maeda - I mean, it makes a great tinderbox. 

Tsurugi - Exactly!

Tsurugi - Oh-

//Tsurugi goes down to the floor by his bed- Maeda’s no longer able to see what he’s doing.

Tomori - While I’m here- I don’t really care what I wind up sleeping on…

Tomori - I’m used to a bed, but my grandparents always had spare tatami space, not spare beds, and I did just fine, so, whatever works…

Maeda - Oh, I wonder if we have futons?

Tomori - Do you usually sleep on a futon, or on a bed?

Maeda - Uh… it changes, honestly- ah!

Maeda - Actually, I’m not a fan of futons… whenever I use one, it just makes me uncomfortable… I don’t like the in-between of it, I guess?

Tomori - I get that… Tsu, do you ever sleep on a futon?

Tsurugi - I don’t sleep…

Tsurugi - Instead of closing my eyes and experiencing REM cycles, I start buzzing at speeds incomprehensible to humans, and that’s how I get my rest.

Tomori - Yeah, that checks out.

Tsurugi - …Okay, I need to do other incomprehensible things.

//Tsurugi stands, and Tomori sits up, watching him. Maeda is resting his head in his arms, but shifts slightly so he can see what’s going on.

Tsurugi - Leave! Please, I care for you so, so do as I plead! 

Tsurugi - For your own safety, I beg of you! Run from this accursed place!

Maeda - …?

Tsurugi - Get out of my room, I want to play cleaning simulator.

Tomori - Don’t spend the whole day trying to prep for the sleepover, Tsurugi…

Tsurugi - I won’t, don’t worry-

Tsurugi - Tomori!

Tomori - Hm?

//Maeda stretches out, then begins to put his shoes back on. Tsurugi dips back down towards his bed, then pops up a moment later- he’s holding something, but turns before Maeda can see what it is.

Tsurugi - So, I know you took your lovely gift back-

Tomori - I want to wrap it before the housewarming party.

Tsurugi - How sweet! But anyways- I have a gift for you, for getting me such a lovely gift.

Tomori - …Oh, you shouldn’t have…

Tsurugi - Want me to take it back?

Tomori - Give me my things, Tsurugi. 

Tsurugi - I’m trying to!

//Maeda finally stands, and can actually see what’s going on- Tomori’s now holding a sweater Maeda swears Tsurugi was wearing during Mekaru and Yamaguchis trial. With the sweater are multiple trinkets Maeda had spotted around Tsurugi’s room earlier, though once again, Maeda is struggling to see, this time, because they’re bundled up in the sweater, allowing Tomori to carry them more easily. Just as Maeda is processing the first bit of visual information he’s received in a solid while-

Tsurugi - Maeda.

//Tsurugi whirls around, and points at him.

Tsurugi - Oh, you’re already ready to go.

Tsurugi - …Eager to abandon me, huh? Been looking for your out?

Maeda - I was gonna bolt while you had your back turned, but…

//Tsurugi drops to the floor, faux-writhing as he lies.

Tsurugi - …

//He bolts up, and does his best to look at Maeda from his seat on the floor.

Tsurugi - I was going to keep that bit going, but no! It’s fine you’ve used me up and tossed me out-

Tsurugi - Because, I have suitors, if you care to remember!

Tomori - …Huh?

Maeda - Tsurugi was telling me earlier about how he keeps being visited by people trying to woo him, and convert him to their religion.

Tomori - Huh!

Tomori - Found a new faith, Tsurugi?

Tsurugi - I am a firm believer in ladybugs and spider webs that you don’t see until it’s early morning and they’re covered in dew and you realize they’re all over the grass.

Tomori - …Oh my god.

Tomori - My E-handbook.

Maeda - ?

Tomori - Taira and Higa have it, and I don’t know where they are.

Tomori - I kinda need that to go put my stuff away, and, oh, I don’t know-

Tomori - Get into my room?

Maeda - Oh, shit…

Tsurugi - What a perfect note to really kick you out on!

Tsurugi - Tomori, go find your handbook.

Tomori - I- yeah, bye-

//Tomori turns, and starts leaving- she’s visibly a bit thrown off, she keeps turning to try and give Tsurugi a proper goodbye, before turning back halfway through, to continue speed-walking towards the door. Maeda gets up to follow her, knowing he’s meant to leave as well, and-

Maeda - Where would Taira be right now… maybe I can help Tomori find her…

Tomori - I’ll see you later, Tsurugi- Maeda, get the door for me, please?

Maeda - Ah, yeah-

//It’s a bit awkward, as Tomori has already reached the door, so Maeda has to reach around her to grab the doorknob, but nevertheless he gets it done.

Maeda - Bye, Tsurugi- have fun cleaning.

Tsurugi - I will! Now go help Tomori- if you want, or don’t.

Tsurugi - I ain’t the boss of you…

Tsurugi - OH.

Tsurugi, quickly - Maeda-leave-my-door-open!

//Maeda was already half out the door, and was closing it behind him- but he stops, nods at Tsurugi, and pushes it back open.

~*~

Tomori - Oh!

//Tomori has stopped in the hallway.

Maeda - Gah!

Tomori - Oh, sorry, Maeda-

//Tomori steps out of the way, allowing Maeda to see what caused her to pause so suddenly.

Taira - Hey.

//Taira is sitting on the floor outside of Tsurugi’s room. She’s leaning her back against the opposite wall- there’s more dorms on that side of the hallway, but the door she’s leaning against is her own, so Maeda supposes it doesn’t really matter.

Tomori - Taira, hey! I was just going to go look for you-

Taira - Want your handbook back?

Tomori - Yeah, that’s right…

Taira - I left it in your room- I decided to wait for you, just in case- obviously…-

Taira - But I figured that you’d want to go in there to organize the movies, so I thought it was a good option.

//As she speaks, Maeda tries to look at Tomori’s room- with the angle he’s at, he can’t see inside it, but he can see that the doors open.

Tomori - Yeah, that’s smart- thank you, both for putting the movies away, again, and for waiting for me.

Tomori - I honestly got a bit freaked out when I realized I didn’t have my handbook…

Taira - They’re so crucial to student life here, it makes sense…

Taira - But, with that taken care of, I think I need to go-

Taira - Higa, if you come with me, I can fix your vest for you now.

//Higa has been sitting next to Taira. 

Higa - …Right, yeah…

Taira - Do you want me to teach you how to darn a hole?

Higa - Why should I learn? There’ll always be people like you to do tasks like that.

Higa - Society is a collaborative effort, right?

Taira - Individual survival is impossible for most, but having more skills to offer will always be valuable.

Taira - …But, at the least, you need to select the thread I’ll use.

//Taira and Higa have stood, and are apparently going to Tairas room. 

Taira - Goodbye, you two.

Tomori - Bye, again…

//Maeda waves goodbye, and just like that, Higa and Taira are gone.

Tomori - …

//She turns to face Maeda.

Tomori - I feel a bit bad abandoning you, but I need to go put my things away…

Maeda - ! Don’t worry about it-

Maeda - I wasn’t even remotely concerned about that, I’ll go find something to do.

Maeda - See you tonight, Tomori.

Tomori - Yeah, see you then!

//They part ways, and both go into their respective dorms.

~*~

Maeda, narrating - …I just rotated between interacting with different groupings of the same four people for, like…

Maeda - Two hours?

Maeda - I’ve still got some time to kill before the sleepover though…

Maeda - What should I do?

[Free Roam - Go to Rec Room]