#currently at five i think maybe six im not sure

[ilargeicontradictmiself]

Saifah has gone from "he seems okay" to "this is my guy my best friend he's my pal my homeboy" in less than two episodes

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for breaking things off with a long distance FWB before their visit? (nsfwish)

i (x,27) have been chatting on and off with an online friend for maybe five or six months with M (x,23). we met in an nsfw online community so our relationship was pretty flirty right from the jump and quickly became sexual, though because of the sizeable distance between us, it was always restricted to online. when things first started we talked a lot more frequently, sometimes in a flirty way and sometimes in just a casual friend way, but over time our relationship cooled. i started seeing someone irl (they know about M and vice versa ofc) but around that same time that we sorta made things official, M started talking about coming to visit, which made me wonder if they werent as okay with this new relationship as they said. we'd discussed very loosely the idea of seeing one another irl before, but suddenly those plans started becoming very real and i started to worry. i didnt and honestly dont know how i feel about it anymore. the idea of meeting them in person is still kinda exciting, as theyre a friend and i would like to get to hang out with them, but i wonder now if theyve noticed the dynamic between us has changed a lot since we first started talking, moreso since i have a partner i devote a greater share of my time to, and i worry theyre expecting something from me that im not sure i can give them anymore. i want to talk to them about it but im uncertain for a number of reasons. first, when we started making plans they immediately pitched the idea of a week long visit, which i thought was too long for a first irl meeting and negotiated them down a little. they seemed to understand but also seemed disappointed which sort of fanned the flames of my anxieties about our interests being out of sync. second, due to me living in a small apartment with a roommate, theyd probably be sharing a bed with me, something ive done with friends before and am generally fine with but again, several days, possible mismatched perceptions of our relationship, idk. if we do have this talk, i think i might have to kill our plans altogether.

i do still want to be friends if possible. we run in similar circles, including a shared discord server, and id hate to make things awkward in the group, but it seems to me like, things being how they are right now, this meet up may end in heartbreak, which would then also lead to them being stuck far from home with the person who shot them down :/ how can i give them the "lets just be friends" talk before our meet up (currently planned to be sometime in a few months, so theres at least some time) without being a total asshole?

[asuyaka]

Hello there! It's the anon who made the Gojo x affectionate reader request, I have to say I absolutely love your writing, it's so adorable and wholesome!

Anyways, I wanted to make a similar request like the one I previously asked for, but with a different scenario- kinda.

So my prompt is that Reader is like Mitsuri(not female tho, but if you're ok with it maybe make them a bit effeminate? Like the soft boy aesthetic!), they are a 1st grader but have enough strength to beat even the strongest adult in Jujutsu High to the ground like a ragdoll, they're very sweet and affectionate and just precious in general. They are best friends with Gojo and Geto and were sent to deliver the Star Plasma Vessel with the boys since their strength and durability can put them in the same level as a Special Grade student.

Now here is where this whole scenario actually takes place; Reader somehow managed to enter the domain(?) that Suguru and Toji were fighting on, unfortunately they only manage to get to where they are after Toji had already defeated Geto and after seeing their best friend now bloodied and unconscious on the ground, Reader gets very pissed off and make it their personal goal to give Toji some righteous ass whooping for what he did to their friends and Amanai. And after they took care of Toji they took Geto and ran out of the domain before it could collapse on them.

Sorry if that's a long request! I like making my asks as detailed as I can and tend to go overboard, especially if it's about my current hyperfixations. I hope you' have a great day/afternoon/night! Also remember to stay hydrated and take breaks!😁

- Sincerely, 🌈 Anon.

★ - 'm so glad you liked it !! o(*////▽////*)q req's a tiny bit confusin' but 'm think 'm got the general gist of it!! :3

★ - 'm sorry but 'm wasn't exactly sure who the main character was, so 'm decided ta use em both cauze yanno they're right there!! ^_^

☆ - Teen! Satosugu x Male Reader — can be read as platonic or romantic!

♡ - Zuha's a bit silly n doesn't know how t'write fight scenes s'forgive 'im if it isn't suuuper good! ꒰#’ω`#꒱੭

This whole 'merging' with Riko was extremely taxing on you, Suguru, and Satoru, but it's almost over so you three can relax and play Digimon 'till you passed out!

"Uwaaa! I'm so tired..." You mutter, leaning on Suguru's shoulder as your group climbs the stairs leading to Tengen's barrier around Jujutsu High.

Riko beside you huffs. "You can at least pretend not to be!"

"I'm sure [Name] didn't mean anything by it." Kuroi smiles softly as the five of you finally reach the top of the stair way, safely inside Jujutsu High barriers.

You let out a sigh of relief. At first, you weren't entirely sure why you were put on the mission, you're only a first-grade sorcerer while Suguru and Satoru were special grades, but Yaga chalked it up to you being strong enough and your friends needing someone responsible to be with.

The mission took more out of Satoru than anyone else, you and Suguru were heavily aware of that. On Day Two, you stayed up with him the entire night, busying yourself with whatever videos you could find and an unhealthy amount of Sakura Mochi.

You hear Suguru tell Satoru he worked hard, and he did. Harder than the two of you could thanks to his technique. You make a mental note to yourself to treat the two of them to food when the merging is finally complete.

"I never wanna get stuck babysitting a brat again." Satoru rolls his eyes, the blue glow that indicated he was using his Six Eyes dissipating.

You walk up behind him and hug Satoru from behind. "Goob job 'toru!" You make sure not to squeeze too tight, he was tired and you didn't want to make him physically hurt too.

The next thing that happens, hurts.

You feel something— it's sharp — enter your abdomen and exit through Satoru's sternum.

The two of you instinctively look back. You're inside the barrier which is supposed to protect you from any intruders, but obviously from the blood that's piling up your throat, it didn't.

Satoru uses a small version of Blue and Suguru uses a curse. It hurt, obviously. You couldn't use your technique to nullify it because it wouldn't do it's job of hurting the man behind you, so you let it pass.

You breathe to calm yourself and analyze your situation. Your eye is bruised, not blind but there is blood obscuring your vision. You definitely have internal bleeding, but it missed vital spots so you can suck it up and deal with it.

Satoru and Suguru are talking about something, but you're worried about Riko and Kuroi— some could argue that you should be worried about the hole in your stomach but your injuries come later, Riko and Kuroi need to be safe.

"Suguru, [Name], get them to Tengen-sama."

Suguru tenses, gazing between you three before nodding. "Be careful!"

You get up, internal bleeding be dammed, grabbing Riko's arm and running the other way with Suguru.

The bleeding of your eye gets worse with every step and you have to keep running despite coughing up blood more times than is healthy. Suguru looks back at you, worried, but you assure him you're okay.

You can't let Satoru down. You can't let Suguru down, so you force your body to deal with it— force your body to use RCT, something you know like the back of your hand due to your technique.

The four of you reach the elevator that leads to where Tengen stays. Suguru makes sure You, Kuroi, and Riko enter in first before pressing the button for the lowest floor.

"H-here!" Kuroi hands you a handkerchief to clean the blood off your hands. You mumble out a small "thanks" using it to wipe your face as well.

You're strong, you know that. Being a first grade while in the second year is an amazing feat, but fuck you were scared.

You're able to go through Satoru's Infinity just fine, but that's because of your technique. That man, whoever he was, shouldn't be. "Satoru's going to be fine, don't worry," Suguru says as if he can hear your thoughts, patting your arm for reassurance.

If Suguru says everything is going to be okay, then everything is going to be okay. You remind yourself to focus, focus, focus— because after this, you two will go help Satoru, and everyone will be fine.

The elevator stops and the four of you get out. You're beside Suguru and Riko and Kuroi trail behind you. All of a sudden, Kuroi stops.

She's crying and you can feel your heart breaking. This 'merging' thing was fucked up from the get-go. No kid should have to always have in the back of their mind that they're going to die, and there's nothing they can do to stop it.

"Suguru..." You mumble softly. You shouldn't be seeing this— it's private, meant to be between them. Suguru nods. He understands, he knows what's happening is messed up and he's going to do something about it, who cares what Tengen needs?

The walk is silent, unnervingly so but you're about to kill a kid. The thought makes your stomach churn but you do nothing about it. You're strong, you can deal with it.

"Suguru, I'm staying back." You say, hands pressed into a fist and your head hung low. You can't stomach the thought of willingly killing a kid— you won't forgive yourself even though you know you can't do anything about it.

Suguru doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. You were put on the mission last minute, and he knows how empathetic you are.

You watch them make their way to Tengen's territory and you feel sick. You feel sick to your stomach, hunching down and forcing yourself to calm down.

"focus, focus, focus." You say like a mantra to yourself, even though you're scared. You know how to focus if the situation is right, but you just feel nauseous.

You hear steps walking closer and your heart jumps. It's Satoru! Satoru did it and now he's coming back to show that he's a part of the strongest duo in the Jujutsu world.

"Damn. Didn't know they had security here."

Your eyes widen. That voice doesn't sound like Satoru, and it doesn't look a thing like him. It's that man, the same one that went through Satoru's Infinity.

You can see him clearly now thanks to the yellow fluorescent lights on the sides of the wall.

He's more muscular than you you can tell that easily. His hair is flat against his head with eyes that don't have any form of empathy in them, and with a scar on his lip.

You aren't scared, surprisingly, you're angry— fucking livid.

He killed Kuroi, a woman who was so nice, so grateful for the things she'd had in life, a woman who didn't deserve to die. He killed Satoru— he killed the people you care about.

You don't ask questions, you don't stare with your mouth open like a moron, you start fighting.

You're struggling to keep your emotions in check even though the first and basic rule of Jujutsu Sorcery is to not let your emotions get in the way.

The man, whoever he is, grabs your wrist, hastily pocketing his gun and grabbing a knife, stabbing it straight through your sternum and dragging it down to your hip line.

He takes it out, your blood staining his forearm. He switches the way he's handling it and stabs you through your throat.

Your vocal cords and blood vessels are in pain, but you can't yell, can't scream, can't do anything. Your body face-first falls limp on the floor, pushing the knife deeper into your throat to the point it comes out the back of your neck.

He stomps on your head for good measure, grabbing his gun and walking towards where Geto and Riko are.

You feel your heart slowing down as your blood leaks to your fingers. You're dead, you're dead if you don't do something—anything. Your eyes close and blood leaks out of your mouth. You're done for.

The sound of rubble falling wakes you up, your hand twitching before you lug yourself up, the front of your uniform stained with your blood as the energy from your subconscious RCT flares off your body.

You pull the knife from your throat. It stings, obviously, but you don't care about that.

You know for a fact now that Satoru, Kuroi, and Riko are dead. With every step, you hear more crashing and buildings getting destroyed.

Your eyes scan the area. You can feel the output from one of Suguru's stronger curses, it's faint, most likely due to distance, but it's definitely there.

Jumping from the platform, you hastily make your way to where the energy was coming from.

You're there— so close until the building fucking collapses.

Your heart drops when all the dust and smoke clears. Suguru is lying down— is he dead? Oh Suguru, please don't be dead — an 'X' on his torso his eyes are closed and that same fucking man is standing in front of him.

"Shit kid, just can't stay dead can you?" His grin pisses you off. It's full of teeth as his scar grows wider.

He notices your expression, holding back a snicker. It looks just like the curse-eater's when he realized Gojo died. "Might wanna close your mouth, you'll catch a flyhead in there." He snickers, putting the blade he had back into his cursed spirit and getting a smaller weapon with two blades on it.

You grab a weapon out of your back pocket. Your technique barely helps in hand-to-hand combat so you're used to carrying a weapon on you that you're used to using. Why you didn't use it the first time, you aren't sure yourself.

It's a decent-sized blade Yaga had made with the technique of a retired sorcerer. Hammerspace or something, you don't really care. All you need now is that man dead.

You throw the knife at him for a distraction. He deflects it, like you expected. You ducked behind him, your hands curled up into a fist as your hand connected with the blade of his sword.

You had to make this quick so you can tend to Suguru.

Not giving him any time to land on his feet, you grab your blade from the air switching the grip into a reverse hammer and brute-forcing your way through his hand.

The blood splatters on your cheek, grabbing the blade out and using your other arm to hit him from the side.

You take a second to breathe. His arm has a hole in it and he's breathing heavily. That cocky grin finally wiped from his face.

Every single bone in your body was telling you to kill him, to put an end to him right then and there for killing people who didn't deserve it— for killing teenagers.

But then you remember Suguru. Suguru who's lying on the floor somewhere, most likely bleeding out. That is what pulls you out of your anger-infused trance, turning your back to the man and rushing for Suguru.

He doesn't try and kill you, thankfully, but you notice Riko's body is gone.

Pushing all that to the back of your mind, Riko's dead body, her lifeless face— her life that was cut too short because she was born as a vessel, you find Suguru.

His breathing is there, very faint, but it's there. Immediately starting RCT on his body as tears brim your eyes. You're crying now, crying over all the things you should've cried about before but were too busy trying to keep yourself alive— not that you could die anyway, you do RCT subconciously.

"Suguru... Suguru, please open your eyes," Your voice wavers as his uniform gets damp with your tears.

You keep RCT going, pressing your ear where Suguru's heart is as his blood stains your face. You cry over the death of Satoru, you cry that you weren't able to save Kuroi or Riko, you cry about how you couldn't kill the man that would've killed most of the people you knew— most of the people you care about.

"[N-Name]...?"

Suguru's voice sounds so weak. It sounds horse, like he's dehydrated, but it's there— God, Suguru's alive.

"'m sorry- was too weak- 'm so sorry S'gu!" You wail as the tears fall harder, your decently muscular arms wrapped around his torso as you wait for him to berate you, to yell at you for not killing that man when you had the chance.

"[Name]— It's okay, I just... fuck, okay, listen, it wasn't your fault, alright? He had a heavenly pact and from what I can see, you at least caused him to bleed." Suguru's hand wipes the blood on your cheek, his thumb presses against the grass to get the blood from that monkey off him.

"I'll check on Satoru, so wait here, okay?"

You don't have the heart to say no to him. You're too weak, too mentally fatigued to stand up and see the corpse of someone else you loved, someone else you cherished.

So you watch Suguru leave, accompanied by wet sniffles and dry wails, you curl in on yourself and wait obediently for someone to come get you.

You don't know if you're hallucinating, but you swear you see a patch of dark blue hair, blood leaking from Riko's the person's head before you pass out.

[dmercer91]

ebug's sister, dm91

taglist, @whenmypartysover

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven / part twelve /

blakefriarr_

liked by _quinnhughes, nicohischier and 7,665 others

blakefriarr_: 'you should wear sunscreen, daws' 'no i'll be fine'

'fine' being not wearing a shirt because it physically hurts him. the man is the human embodiment of @/njdevil00

view 736 comments..

dawson1417: ok it's not THAT bad

→ blakefriarr_: ok so let me hug you

→ dawson1417: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

→ daswson1417: you have cooties

nicohischier: i cannot escape even in the offseason

nicohischier: where did you GET that, blakey

→ blakefriarr_: If nico hischier has a million menaces, then I am one of them. If nico hischier has ten menaces, then I am one of them. If nico hischier has only one menace then that is me. If nico hischier has no menaces, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against being menacing to nico hischier, then I am against the world.

→ nicohischier: i hate you

→ blakefriarr_: you asked me to text you when we landed like an anxiety ridden mother letting her newly licensed child drive the kia sportage to subway

jackhughes: second picture was a jumpscare

→ blakefriarr_: are you sure it's not still just loading and you're looking at a black screen

adamfantilli: we haven't facetimed in sixteen hours im having withdrawals

→ blakefriarr_: @/trevorzegras

→ trevorzegras: you rang

→ blakefriarr_: when the ducks sign my rookie you better murder everyone who breathes around him

→ trevorzegras: the draft hasn't happened yet

→ blakefriarr_: WHEN THE DUCKS SIGN MY ROOKIE, ZEGRAS.

→ trevorzegras: i will do murder

→ blakefriarr_: horray

→ blakefriarr_: love you, rookie

→ adamfantilli: love you, coach

lhughes_06: getting sunburnt sounds like a skill issue

→ drayanewman: 🤨 ok larry the lobster

→ blakefriarr_: currently wondering how larry and nj devil managed to pull us

→ dawson1417: larry and nj are the only ones equipped to deal with the egregious attitudes

_quinnhughes: just so you're aware a pit stop at the lake house before you go to canada is mandatory

→ blakefriarr_: don't tell me what to do

→ _quinnhughes: so when's the flight

→ blakefriarr_: sunday.

edwards.73: do you prefer 50 or 30 spf

→ blakefriarr_: don't. you're on probation.

→ edwards.73: I WAS ONLY AN HOUR LATE

→ blakefriarr_: I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD

jj.friar31: living alone is not nearly as great as i thought it would be

→ blakefriarr_: you know we share a doordash account, right?

→ jj.friar31: i can't cook, b, what do you want from me

→ blakefriarr_: SIX CHICKEN SANDWIHCHES IN A DAY??

→ jj.friar31: i'm bulking

→ blakefriarr_: you are the largest red flag i've ever met i have failed as a sister

→ jj.friar31: my original comment was meant to be a roundabout way to say i missed you but i take it back suck a dick

→ blakefriarr_: i'm on vacation what do you think i've been spending my time doing? bible study?

→ jj.friar31: you should be stripped of your basic human rights

seasmuscasey26: sixty four

→ blakefriarr_: hmmmmm i think maybe eighty eight or twelve

→ seamuscasey26: eighty eight and six hundred three 😏

→ blakefriarr_: you get me shea

→ luca.fantilli: what... is this? even?

→ seamuscasey26: @/blakefriarr_ three eighty five 💀💀

→ blakefriarr_: stop 💀

ryangraves27: merc appears to be very happy

→ blakefriarr_: i tend to have that affect on him

→ ryangraves27: ok 👍

dougieham: wear protection

→ blakefriarr_: that's what i said

→ dougieham: hm. all the protection?

→ blakefriarr_: i eat protection

→ dougieham: i don't think that's what the flavoured ones are meant for

→ blakefriarr_: fr? cause i've been eating a strawberry condom at 10pm every night for months

→ dougieham: eat them for breakfast like a grownup at least

jesperbratt: yeah

→ blakefriarr_: yeah

markestapa: nobody needs to see all of the pda

→ blakefriarr_: wrong. you need to see it, i read so on facebook

→ markestapa: well shit i can't argue with facebook

→ blakefriarr_: wrong again. you can't argue with me. i've been wrong once and i always learn from my mistakes

view more comments..

[fablemyth]

— get to know shelley !

what's your phone wallpaper: i've got two ! my current one is my girl wendy who we lost a couple years ago, and the other is my current pup ! both looking cute as ever

last song you listened to: i haven't properly listened to music today, but i play it while i fall asleep for white noise, and according to spotify it was fifteen ( taylor's version ) !

currently reading: currently i'm reading book 1 of the emily wilde series, and i've got the dovekeepers as my current read that i'm sitting on because it takes me a while to fully get back into it. next on my list i think is either going to be tusks of extinction, or ashes of the star cursed king ! i've also got maps of the otherland for when i finish my current book hehe

last movie: ooh, i'm not sure ! maybe the idea of you, when my mom was watching ?

what are you wearing right now?: i'm in my comfies ! sweat pants and a light t shirt

how tall are you?: 5'3" thank you kindly to the medical assistant who rounded up my height at my last doc appointment im never saying 5’2” again

piercings / tattoos?: my ears are pierced, but during the mask wearing time, i didn't like wearing earrings, so unfortunately i stopped wearing them - and now my earholes are closed up ! at least, the right one is, i haven't tried the left one aslfkgj shouldn't be hard to reopen, but i'm a chicken. no tattoos yet, but i definitely want to get some ! i want to get my late dog's paw print as my first, i just gotta find a good place to go <3

glasses / contacts: glasses ! i don't like anything to do with eyes, so i absolutely will never be trying out contacts

last thing you ate?: i had a few bites of cake, and also some oreos. very exciting hahah now i'm thinking of proper food at 11pm at night !

favorite color: any shade of green !!!!

current obsession: i'm six seasons deep in my criminal minds rewatch, so let's call it that.

do you have a crush right now?: nope ! i'm demiace so they rarely happen for me <3

favorite fictional character: oh, many. to keep it easy, i'll keep it to five ! piper halliwell, isabelle lightwood, emily prentiss, evie carnahan, buffy summers, emma swan, juliette silverton, scott mccall, brooke davis, nina zenik, rosalie hale, hayley marshall .... oops, that's more than five, isn't it ?

last place you travelled: ooh, i'm not sure. travelled being explained how ? going out of town ? the last place i went to out of state was costa rica back in 2020. haven't really taken any trips since ! but i have made a plan for the next year to take a 30 day leave from work to travel, either back to mexico or somewhere new, and that's so exciting !! it's the boost i needed to really get myself out of feeling super stagnant at work, having a plan <3

tagged by: no one i stole this from @salvatoraes tagging: also no one, i'm lazy and if you see this and want to you should do it too !

[trickstarbrave]

concubine au part six!! part five can be found here

ive felt like shit for several days now and idk if im entirely coherent. but. please enjoy

i feel like this story is just an emotional rollercoaster but tbh dealing with trauma is just like that sometimes

uhhhh warnings for trauma responses and talking about slavery and abuse. nerevar feels like a mess. voryn is here to help him. a sorta kinda not really but yes really confession.

“Are you alright?” Voryn asked, now back in the safety of the bedroom with a silencing spell. Voryn thought it had been going well, all things considered. Nerevar even seemed to be enjoying it, all but begging for more. Then, at the end, he got tense and froze, mortified. He knew it wasn’t an act either, he could tell from the look in his eyes--or at least, he thought he knew. 

“Yeah, just…” Nerevar’s hands were shaking a little. “It was different from practice.” He mumbled, as Voryn wrapped a blanket around him before pulling him close. Nerevar sank into the embrace, though he still felt far too stiff for Voryn’s liking. 

“Did it remind you of before?” Voryn asked, his voice soft. The last thing he wanted to do was make Nerevar relive the horrifying experience all over again. 

“No no,” Nerevar shook his head, before nuzzling into his shoulder. “Not that. It’s just…” He fumbled for words, before sighing.

Nerevar didn’t want to tell Voryn it was because, for a brief moment, he got far too into it. How was he supposed to mention that? That he, post climax, was actually fantasizing about having Voryn’s baby? It would make the whole thing all the more awkward and uncomfortable. Not even Nerevar enjoyed that his brain had went there; the two weren’t in a relationship and Nerevar sure as hell wasn’t ready for that kind of thing at all! He was still trying hard not to get dragged back to House Dres in chains, what the fuck was he doing thinking about Voryn knocking him up?! He could have punched himself, but luckily he was currently being held by Voryn. 

“It was just… Intense.” Nerevar finally admitted. “S-someone was watching, and it started to get overwhelming…”

“Are you going to be alright?” Voryn asked, stroking his hair. 

“Yeah, I can still do the act--”

“I didn’t mean the act.” Voryn whispered. “Are you going to be okay?” He asked again, his voice a bit more firm. 

Fuck. How kind Voryn was being was not helping whatever the hell was going on with his mind. Nerevar couldn’t tell if it was the imprisonment making him like this, or if his feelings for Voryn were always this strong. But the touching, the gentleness from someone he knew could be so ruthless, the care in his voice…

Nerevar wanted more. He wanted more than just an act where the two had sex to save Nerevar. He wanted more than friendship behind those touches and the care in his voice. He wanted Voryn to have meant it when he said he loved Nerevar so passionately and desperately while fucking him for all he was worth. He liked the roughness in the act, but he was also longing to make sweet, languid love like all the poets wrote about right here on Voryn’s bed. He wanted Voryn to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, telling Nerevar how much he adored him and would keep him safe, and that he’d never let Nerevar go again. 

Maybe it was because of his imprisonment. Maybe he did just want to feel safe and loved. But the intensity of his desires was… Frightening. He was still healing and recovering from the two years of hellish abuse. Two years of never being certain he would be free again. Two years of finding reasons to go on. Two years of trying to just survive no matter what he had to do. Now he was finally back somewhere safe where he was protected and cared for and… Nerevar didn’t know entirely how to feel. He welcomed the feelings of safety, sure, but he didn’t feel secure. He didn’t feel like himself. He felt like there was something missing he was desperate to fill.

What if he did confess and later on realized he didn’t mean it, he was just lost and scared? What if he confessed and Voryn rejected him, making him spiral and he only felt worse? Or what if he confessed and the feeling of genuine love and belonging left him an absolute wreck and he couldn’t act properly? He didn’t know his own feelings anymore or what to expect. He didn’t understand his desires or even knew what he really wanted. And that uncertainty was terrifying. He depended on making predictions, trying to figure out risks versus outcomes and how to outsmart other people, but how was he supposed to do that when he didn’t even understand himself? 

“I-I…” Nerevar pursed his lips. He didn’t have an answer. He could lie, and say he would be--that the wounds from being enslaved and abused would eventually heal but that Voryn was doing everything right--but he knew Voryn could catch him out on his lies. Already he looked even more concerned, lifting Nerevar’s face to look at him, his eyebrows bunched together in worry. 

“You look scared.” His voice was soft. “Did I go too far?” Voryn was stroking his cheek so gently, and Nerevar felt guilty making him worry. 

“No,” Nerevar insisted. “I told you, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“But you don’t feel well.” Voryn replied. “And you look terrified.” 

“I don’t… Know what’s wrong.” Nerevar finally confessed, closing his eyes so he didn’t make a fool out of himself staring up at Voryn’s perfect face. “It felt good. You always make sure it feels good for me. But I just…” He sighed shakily. “I don’t… Feel like myself.” He tried explaining without revealing anything incriminating. “I felt like I was melting away, losing myself in it, and then when it was over I… Felt untethered. Unsteady.” He wasn’t lying; the sensation of coming down from the high, realizing how much he enjoyed it while lost in the pleasure was akin to realizing you were drifting out to sea, the current carrying you faster than you could paddle back to shore. 

“What can I do to make you feel more secure then?” Voryn asked.

“You’re doing everything right.” Nerevar stressed. Already he felt like he was taking too much from Voryn; Voryn already was having sex with him as a cover story, what more could he ask for? Nerevar couldn’t bring himself to sit and whine that he wasn’t being genuinely loved by Voryn and needed more. “You’re doing everything right, I just--” Voryn was wiping his cheeks with both hands now, brushing away tears. Fuck--was he seriously crying for no reason again? He grit his teeth angrily at that, frustrated and pissed off he was even less in control of his emotions than he thought, before Voryn tilted his chin up, and kissed him.

Kissed him. On the lips. No acting, no practicing. Just… A kiss. 

It was soft, warm, and tender. Absolutely everything Nerevar hadn’t realized he was craving. Nerevar was shocked, at first, before his eyes fluttered shut and he wrapped his arms around Voryn in return, savoring the kiss. 

Honestly, Voryn was relieved when Nerevar kissed back. He took a bold risk--he didn’t know what to do or how to make the situation better, all he knew was he wanted to kiss Nerevar. He wanted to show Nerevar how much he cared for him, and could only think of a way to do so by kissing slow and gentle, pouring his affection into it. He tilted Nerevar’s head gingerly, deepening it only so far, making it clear this wasn’t a kiss for sex, but because he genuinely wanted to. 

“Voryn…” Nerevar whispered softly, the worried look now faded, replaced by flushed cheeks and warmth in his eyes. Nerevar’s lips still tingled slightly, already craving more. 

“Did that help?” Voryn whispered back, now with one hand rubbing at his scalp. Slowly, Nerevar nodded. 

“We…” Nerevar’s eyes went to the blankets, nervousness creeping in again. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Voryn probed.

“We’re…” Nerevar swallowed. “We’re not together.” 

“Do you want us to be?” Voryn asked in return, and Nerevar felt like all his blood had turned to lead. Nerevar had no answer. No, he didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Yes, yes he very much wanted them to be actual, genuine lovers. Maybe not, as he wasn’t sure of his own feelings--his thoughts kept flipping between the two answers. “Don’t overthink it, Neht.” Voryn reassured him. “Just tell me.” 

“I…” Nerevar cursed himself for being so weak, to suddenly not have a damn spine. “What if it ruins everything? Our plan? Our friendship?” 

“If you change your mind I won’t hold it against you.” Voryn answered. “We can just… See where this takes us, if you want it.” Nerevar’s eyes fluttered shut again at how relaxing it felt for Voryn to be rubbing small circles against his scalp, playing with his hair. “Just relax for me.” 

Nerevar soon found himself nodding, letting the stress melt away. To hell with overthinking everything… So what if he had a little fantasy in the middle of sex? He could just dismiss it for now. So what if he enjoyed it too much? Maybe Voryn could actually be his lover. They’d just play it by ear. Ease into it and see where it went. He could trust Voryn for now and stop worrying about where the line between them as friends started and their acting ended. 

“A bath might also help.” Voryn added, wiping some more smudged kohl from his eyes. “Want me to help you clean up?” 

“Yeah,” Nerevar’s eyes cracked open, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Getting cleaned up would probably help clear his head more, and right now he… Didn’t want to be alone. Voryn being by his side would only help relax him more. “I’d like that.” 

[outrunningthedark]

do you ever think about the possibility of buck going into to kiss tommy but tommy not reciprocating? i’m only saying that since tim & oliver said lou was only going to be there for a few episodes & im not sure if they’ll fit a tommy/buck dating storyline in there that quickly but i mean who knows. anything can happen at this point.

I think people are getting tripped up on the "speed" of the story line, but Tim is working with 10 episodes, not 18, and the cruise disaster eliminated three chances for Tommy to get a *real* introduction/character exploration. As of right now, Tommy IS only in a few episodes (#four, five, probably six since logic would say he was meant to go to the wedding...nothing else to speculate on yet), and, IMO, Tommy isn't currently being written as a serious long-term LI. Maybe Tim will leave it open-ended in the finale in case the audience reaction is positive enough to continue the story in season eight for a bit, but the way I look at it...this "relationship" is being presented as a stepping stone for Buck to date other men in the future, including one that could end up being his endgame. (Does that mean Buddie's going canon? No. But it does mean that Tim is more likely to put Buck with a man if this story line succeeds instead of sticking him in the same old hetero dynamic that goes absolutely nowhere because the writers aren't inspired.)

[baiboop]

Sharing my Heart

hey y’all, i ended up deleting my fic off of ao3, im going to post the chapters here under the tag sharing my heart baiboop. the tag will be at the bottom of this to click and scroll through, i should be done uploading the chapters by this monday. i only have the drafts that were in my notes so im sorry if there’s any typos! reminder that the first 3 chapters are a recap of the actual episodes leading up to adam’s possession so you can skip ahead if you need to!

Chapter 1

Darkness and a cool, damp earth surround Adam. He’s confused, he can feel the granules between his fingers and the sensation of being completely trapped. Suddenly he’s engulfed by a wave of anxiety, brought on by the constricting environment he found himself in. His body flushes with the heat of nervousness. The pressure and weight of the ground trapping Adam momentarily leaves him stunned and unable to move. He starts to make an attempt of breathing before his train of thought finally kicks in.

‘Up. I’ve got to go up.’ Adam thinks to himself.

He knows where he is. He remembers now.

Adam can feel his lungs squeezing, the burning sensation of oxygen being withheld cause his chest to instinctively heave.

Dirt is in his mouth and panic is in his mind, but still, he knows where he is.

He’s been restored life by the angels.

He is ‘The chosen one’.

He is to be Michael’s sword.

He claws his way to the top using all of his adrenaline fueled strength. It’s a painfully slow process as he moves the moist dirt out of the way, making room for his limbs and he thinks he might die again from having to hold his breath for so long.

The inability to open his eyes is heavily contributing to the deep sense of panic, this emotion is currently being subdued by the adrenaline, and the adrenaline alone.

He wonders to himself why they had to resurrect him in the ground, if the angels had enough power to bring him back to life surely they could’ve brought him back to life on top of the ground right?

With the first breach of the surface Adam can feel sunlight and cool air on his fingers and the dorsal of his hand. Adam pushes and prods at the dirt, shoving his arms farther out. The more that his body becomes free, the looser the dirt becomes.

Eventually, Adam’s head and upper body emerge topside.

The exact second his face hits the cool air Adam gasps the deepest breath, he believes, humanly possible. The largest sense of relief Adam has ever felt is now present in his mind.

Panting, Adam starts to catch his breath before he trudges himself the rest of the way out. With his arms freed and the ability to breathe restored, he pulls his lower torso and legs out of his earthy grave. He stands up, wanting to stretch his legs out now that he’s out of the claustrophobic dirt trap he was previously in. Once fully upright his vision fades and he can feel a dizzy spell over taking him. The lack of oxygen and the adrenalines slow decline, is making it impossible for him to normally function. He gently drops himself to the ground and attempts to steady his erratic, anxiety-riddled breathing by counting breaths.

Breathing in

one, two, three, four-

Holding

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

Breathing out

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

Adam repeats this cycle about four times, just like his mom had him do in the past. He successfully steadies his breathing before he stops to consider everything that’s just transpired.

“Holy shit.” Adam says aloud. (Not that he necessarily thought anyone was around to hear.)

He surveys his surroundings taking in the dull grass and trees of the area. He was in a clearing, or maybe a meadow? He’s not sure. Why was he in a clearing?

Where is Zachariah?

Or Micheal? Or any angels?

He begins to look around, feeling the previous dread start to creep back in. His mind raced with all the scenarios, and the impossibility of it all.

Maybe they couldn’t find him? Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe he-

His thoughts were cut short by the soft rustling of wings and whooshing of air.

A second wave of relief fills Adam to the deepest pore.

They remembered him. He would let let Micheal in, and see his mom again. They promised.

Adam turns his body, the previous thoughts only consuming about 3 seconds between now and when the angel had first arrived.

He took a breath before putting on a smile and politely introducing himself.

“Hey, I’m Adam Milligan, are you Zachariah?”

The angel stared at him and Adam held his gaze, the angel had dark hair, beautiful blue eyes and his lips were a pale pink, formed into a permanent pout because of their wideness. The angel parted his lips, pausing a moment presumably to think-

“No.”

The angel replied in a monotone, slightly gruff voice.

Adams brows furrowed in confusion, “But-“ he started to speak however was cut off by the angels rapid approach.

The angel reached out, placing a hand on Adams shoulder. Before Adams surroundings melted around him, he noted the angel was an inch or two shorter than him, wearing a trench coat, blue tie, and white button-up.

He heard the flap of familiar wings, and his sense became assaulted by the inability to view, well anything. He shut his eyes, tight, hoping to avoid a headache and re-opened them a couple seconds later when he felt the jolt of his feet hitting wood floors.

A wave of nausea and disorientation hit him as soon as he had opened his eyes, he put his hand up clutching his forehead before turning to the angel.

“Hey man, what the hell was that?” Adam said brows still knit together tightly, with a look of vexation displayed on his face and in his posture.

Adam could feel the pins and needles in his hands and feet, he knows for the past three-ish minutes he’s been conscious he’s been running on pure adrenaline, even though it had previously started to wear off the- whatever the hell just happened- had pushed it back into overdrive.

He surveys the room, seeing four other male faces around him. His hand drops from its protective hold on his head and he starts to sway, weight shifting unevenly from foot to foot. He reaches out trying to grasp something to steady himself on but fails to lock onto any object. He hears one of the men talking to him, “Adam? Adam-“

He closes his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut, trying to block out the noise to soothe the pounding of his head. He feels unbalanced, like he’s falling. Oh shit he is falling.

Adam feels large hands tightly grasping his right arm and torso before he loses consciousness.

——

Adam feels a hand on his chest, accompanied by a white hot light pulsing inside every inch of him. This snaps him straight out of his unconscious rest and he bolts straight up, gasping in deep breaths.

“Where am I?” Adam demands, still panting from the shock. His eyes dart animalistic-ly, between the three men towering over him and the one sitting behind them.

Even through his haze, and the angels vague instructions, he has pretty much gathered these are not the people he’s meant to be with.

Did he get kidnapped? He thinks to himself.

Pulling his legs in closer, he starts to alter his sitting posture. Turning it more rigid, like he’s expecting a fight.

When he moved his legs in dirt crumbled off them, he now starts noticing the feeling of dirt caked all over his body and face, and in his hair and clothes. Previously he hadn’t noticed, but now his senses were reporting in normally.

“It’s okay just relax, you’re safe.” A soothing voice retorts. It came from the tallest member of the bunch.

Adam felt angry confusion hitting him in the gut. “Why would I relax? Who the hell are you?” He says, eyes still shifting between their faces, observing their reactions.

“Well you’re gonna find this a little- a lot crazy, but we’re actually your brothers.” Says the other, shorter male, in a less soothing and huskier voice.

The shorter ones eyes dart to the taller man next to him and they exchange a pained glance before the taller of the two starts up again.

“It’s the truth, John Winchester was our father too.” He says pausing before starting again.

“See, I’m Sam-“

Adam’s face shifts into one of displeasure at the instant recognition of the name. The whole thing starts to click as he realizes these are the men the angels told him would come for him.

“Yeah and I’m sure that’s Dean.” Adam deadpans.

The whole lot of men look at each other with startled expressions.

Adam can see the questions brimming on their faces and speaks up before they can start rapid firing their inquiries.

“I know who you are.” He states matter-of-factly.

“How?” Sam returns.

“They warned me about you.” Adam says, narrowing his eyes into a judging squint.

“Who did?” Dean questions.

“The angels.” Adam answers, staring blankly at them.

When Adam doesn’t continue his train of thought, the men pause again to look at each other. Clearly they’re silently debating what to do.

Adam feels a slight annoyance in their unspoken conversations and crosses his arms.

He eyes Sam, picking his tangent back up.

“Now, where the hell is Zachariah?”

——

After a long interrogation, (Mainly from Adam about what the hell was going on.) Sam and Dean convinced Adam to stay with them for the time being.

They offered him a shower and some hand-me-downs which he accepted with reluctance. He would’ve denied but the absurd amount of dirt covering him was more than enough to convince him.

Adam sat in the shower for an unusually long period of time. He scrubbed at his scalp, still feeling the granules of dirt locked deep into his head.

He was so confused. Why him? Why now? What’s even going on? His ‘brothers’ explanations made some sense, but that still left so many missing pieces that he was having trouble with.

The hot water on his skin felt good, it was a nice juxtaposition to the cold dampness of the dirt. Adam hugs his arms to his chest letting the water hit him in the face.

He’s alive. Alive again. He died? Oh yeah he did die. He shudders at the thought of being consumed by some unknown monster wearing his mothers face.

He remembers the pain. He remembers the sadness, the confusion, all of it.

He squeezes his arm, knuckles turning white with the tightness of his grip before letting go. He lets his arms drop down to his sides and stares at the water, watching it pelt the porcelain of the tub.

Adam turns the knob and the water stops.

He steps out of the shower, drying himself with a towel.

He’s been in the bathroom for close to an hour now but thankfully no one’s come to bother him. He figured they were trying to give him his space and he was grateful for that.

Adam walks closer to the mirror, fogged with condensation from the hot shower. He wipes it off with the corner of his towel, clearing a big enough area for him to almost fully see his face and chest in the small reflective area.

His eyes follow the contours of hid body, looking up and down what he could see in the mirror, and tilting his head down to inspect what he couldn’t see in the mirror.

He had no scars. None.

None from his death, none even from his childhood.

His knee no longer has a small thin line from falling out of his grandparents apple tree and landing on a rock, his finger no longer shows any proof of him slicing it with a kitchen knife while trying, and failing, to make mother’s day dinner to surprise his mom. Nothing, his skin is completely- new.

Adam’s breathing slows a little as he catches his own eyes in the reflection. ‘Is this even my body?’ Adam thinks to himself while tracing over his skin with his hands, trying to feel the familiarity of one’s own body.

After a bit more thinking, Adam is dried off and putting on his “new” clothes.

He’ll admit he’s going to miss the likeness of his old outfit but it’s nice to get into something that isn’t damp or covered in grime.

Not to say these clothes were particularly clean, they smelled like dust and had an odd feeling to the cotton material. However it was still a massive upgrade from the condition of his last outfit.

Adam opens the door and steps out of the bathroom, walking down the hall back to the living room. He entered into the smell of mildew and old wallpaper.

Bobby, the man in the wheelchair and owner of the house, offered him a seat on the bed. It was the same bed he had woken up on after he passed out, but the sheets had been changed. There was no proof of Adams dirt-caked body having ever touched the bed.

Adam thanked him for his offer and sat down.

The bed sat in front of a four paneled glass window, each panel covered with an old yellowing lace curtain. There was news paper clippings tapped to the red-patterned wallpaper and books strewn about everywhere. Adam had been taking in his surroundings, properly, when the rest of the four came into the room.

Dean brought a chair with him and sat on it, Sam half sat on a desk in the room and the angel that they had told Adam was ‘Castiel’ opted to stand in the corner of the room, just menacingly staring at Adam.

The men in the room all stared at Adam, the human three watching patiently, until dean started-

“Okay Adam, you got to ask your questions but now we have a few of our own. We want to understand what happened here, so, why don’t you just tell us everything? Start from the beginning.”

Dean said, face open and passive, looking for answers.

Adam shifted and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Well, I was dead and in heaven- except it kinda looked like my prom. I was making out with this girl her name was Kristen McGee-“

Dean cuts him off with a, “Yeah, sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?”

Sam shoots a disapproving glance and eye roll at dean before he clears his throat. “Just uh, just keep going.”

Adams eyes move between the brothers, feeling Sam’s annoyance in the air he drops the topic of his heaven.

“Well, these angels, they popped out of nowhere and they tell me that I’m chosen.”

“For what?” Sam says, the worry displayed on his brow becoming deeper.

“To save the world.”

“Yeah? How are you gonna do that?” Dean huffs.

“Oh, y’know, me and some archangel are gonna kill the devil.” Adam says confidently but with a shrug.

“What.. What archangel?” Dean responds, a look of confusion and worry now present on his features.

“Michael. I’m his sword or vessel or something.” Adam clarifies, throwing his hands up as he does so.

“Well that’s insane.” Dean says almost chuckling.

Adam furrows his brow at the accusation and attempts to cut in, but Castiel beats him to it.

“Not necessarily.” The dark haired angel pipes up.

“How do you mean?” Dean replies with some aggression in his tone.

“Maybe they’re moving on from you, Dean.” Blue eyes scan over Dean, face cold and vexed.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” Dean says raising his voice a little.

“He is John Winchesters bloodline, Sam’s brother….It’s not perfect but it’s possible.” Castiel assures.

“You gotta be kidding me.” Dean says straight faced.

“Why would they do this?” Sam chimes in eventually, after watching the conversation unfold and feeling the heat of anger between Dean and Castiel’s words.

“Maybe they’re desperate. Or maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them.” Castiel says while glaring at Dean.

Dean clearly doesn’t like the fire in the angels eyes and glares right back.

“Alright, you know what, blow me Cas.”

Dean counters, leaving the angel to furrow his brow in confusion instead of malice.

“Look. No way. After everything that’s happened?” Sam rejoins with a humorless scoff.

“All that crap about destiny and suddenly the angels have a plan B? Does that smell right to anybody??”

The three men share glances, seemingly all of different stances on the issue at hand.

Adams eyes slide over everyone in the room. He feels a certain pressure arising and anxiety tugging in his chest.

“You know, this really has been a moving family reunion but uh.. I gotta thing so.” Adam trails off standing to leave before a large hand lands on his shoulder pushing him back down.

“Woah, sit down. Just listen to me for a second.” Sam pleads.

Adam sits back down and clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

“The angels are lying to you they’re full of crap.” Sam states.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“And why not?”

“Because they’re angels?” Adam says in a mocking voice, trying to convey to Sam that his argument is stupid.

“Huh, well, did the angels tell you they’re going to roast half the planet?”

“Yeah, they told me the fight might get pretty hairy, but it is the devil so we gotta stop him.”

“Yeah, but what if there’s another way?”

After this comment dean sneers at his brother and rolls his eyes.

“Great. What is it?” Adam mocks again.

“Well, we’re working on the power of love.” Dean says with blatant sarcasm, seemingly rejoining the banter.

“Yeah? How’s that going?” Adam adds.

“Mmm, not good.” Dean says, cracking a humorless smile, which earns him an angry frown from Sam.

“Look Adam, you don’t know me but I’m begging you, please trust me. Give me some time.” Sam’s look of sorrow and empathy seemed honestly genuine. This lead Adam to contemplate his answer for a moment.

“Give me one good reason.”

“Because we’re blood.”

“Because we’re-“ Adam repeats, feeling frustration bubbling up inside of him. “You got no right to say that to me.” Adam says raising his voice, feeling the lines deepen in the scowl on his face.

“You’re still John’s boy.” Bobby says gruffly, with a look of sorrow in his old eyes.

“No.” Adam rejects.

“Shut up, none of you know what you’re talking about. John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I dont have a dad. So we may be blood but we sure as hell are not family.”

Adam pauses to think for just a moment before picking back up.

“My mom is my family. And if I do my job I get to see her again. So no offense but she’s the one I give a shit about. Not you.”

“Fair enough.” Sam replies

“But if you have one good memory of dad, just one, then you’ll give us a little more time please.”

[magical-glimpse]

Hey can you please do jhopes fs reading?

Can I?

Six of Pentacles,The Moon,Knight of wands,The Star,Queen of Pentacles,Everything Is Fine,Justice RV,The Lovers,Five of Pentacles,the Tower,Temperance,Six of Swords , The hierophant

Thats a long ass reading, Hobi are you finally becoming talkative ??

He starts off by saying this person is very giving, more than that, I think they channel money from where its abundant to where its needed.It doesnt just feel like it comes from them , but other people as well ?They might work in financial matters, but for the highest good, they might be a social worker helping people in need getting different financial aids, maybe helping students getting scholarships.In a more general way, they are making sure money is transferred to better hands than where it is right now, or go where it needs to be or is deserved more.They also might be some sort of consultant working with businesses that needs help ?Their work is not very common or known, they help people discover things that were hidden from them.They are extremely passionate about their work.It does feel like this is general interest work more than just, company stuff.Might help smaller, more ethical businesses with their business plans so they get where they deserve to be.It makes them fairly comfortable, while giving them a very good balance of personal and professional life. Currently, they are stuck in a very difficult, unfair situation that is not in their favor.They are doing their best to make it right but it seems the odds are stuck against them.There is kind of a blank i cant access, but im being told one day they will move out of this situation and will have the place and recognition they deserve, and will be seen as a figure of authority in their field.

Lastly,Hoseok is hightlighting to me how important this relationship/bond is important to him im getting very big hints about what type of relationship it is lmao but i dont think im allowed to share it.For right now, it seems the two of them are in a situation of lack, and after this period a tower moment will come to bring them in balance together.

[videostak]

wasnt able to rly get to work on my closet today cause by the time i had a chance to it was too late to drive stuff to the thrift and to take bags of trash out back to back but like im pretty positive id say that my closet can hold two drawers worth of clothes in it. havent cleared out enough space to put them both in side by side to see but like im pretty sure? would be great if they can cause i could save tons of space since like i think it could hold like 8 drawers without taking tons of space which is cool cause i currently have five drawers but dont kno if they can hold all my tapes since ive never tried to put all my tapes in there b4. i have lots of series like i love lucy and dbz and i mgiht start getting rid of tapes of random stuff.not those two since that dbz dub is kinda hard to find nowadays and i like having tons of i love lucy episodes to watch cause its p funny but like theres random ass movies i have n stuff that i think as time goes on i can get rid of comfortably. but i think ill try to get six drawers and see if that can fit everything and if not get 8. tho ill see how tomorrow goes cause im gonna shave and just probably be a bit tired still but i rly wanna push thru and take tons of stuff to the thrift and make more work on my room. also gonna want to go to dollar tree to get bins for my consoles. think im gonna geet one bin for my consoles thats like medium sized and one bin for my controllers. ive had these lil cubbies to hold my controllers but i think a bin would be better. and i have consoles under my night stand in a lil place u can put stuff in there but its like exposed like it isnt a drawere but more of a door with like cage lines so my consoles in there always get super dusty -_- also dont kno where im gonna put my console cables tho... like i think maybe in there own bin or smthn def somewhere readily available but idk where. guess ill see cause i do have lots of consoles so maybe one bin might not be enough to hold them all but ill see what i find and also take measurements to see whats the biggeest size i can geet for ontop of my shelves. funny cause of all the consoles i have the odyssey 2 is the only one i have complete in boxand i got taht at the thrift lol. well maybe not complete cause im sure it mustve originally came w/ in instruction manual that i dont have but like i have its box which is real neat. so thats not going in the bin but instead up next to the bin.

[garfieldsladybird]

IM SO SORRY GARFY!! I GOT COMPLETELY DISTRACTED AND I FEEL SO TERRIBLE!!!

your pe sounds so much nicer than mine :( when we go back i have hockey, but if we get who i think i don’t do anything! he’s so funny and makes me tidy up the astroturf instead of playing anything (but in december he makes me so i don’t get ill, especially since he’s realised i get cold easily (he also always wears his sunglasses, even when it’s pouring down in rain)

glad you got your dress sorted!!! that sounds like something i would do!

hope you can stop with the curtains today! the only thing i don’t like that much about play rehearsals for me is that when they run past five (usually till six) i miss the bus so my mum needs to pick me up, and sometimes she’s busy </3

what lesson are you in now? and how’s it going? i hope all is well!! i’m currently watching murder on the orient express (the new one, which my nan doesn’t like at all, but i put it on 😈😈)

sending love <3

ooh its okay!! i promise!! <333

my pe is okay, i wasn’t actually supposed run for the past three days, I was supposed to be playing basketball instead. so yeha hopefully it’s good!! in this unit we’re gonna be playing flag football (my football 🏈) and I’m kind of scared of that. getting tackled in shit by all the guys, i’ll tackle them tho. and it’s also a really small class too!

that PE teacher sounds amazing though!! are you good at hockey?

The dress was all over the place that’s for sure!

I didn’t have rehearsal on Friday so I don’t know if the curtains look good or not. I hope they do bc like uhg. on Thursday I was steam cleaning it, so maybe that did the trick! my rehearsals go from 3:30 PM to 5:30 PM. i dont think the teacher will hold us back for more time unless we didn’t really do what was needed. are you doing anything theater related this year?

it’s the weekend so I’m not in any lesson right now!!! <333 but unlike last weekend, I’m not in any pain!! i’m not sore from walking and everything. but for the past three days, not yesterday, i’ve had this pain in my calf on my right leg and it feels like I have a Charlie horse every time I walk, I massaged it tho! and it doesn’t hurt today but like did the other days and I forgot to tell people. why is it called a Charlie horse? was murder on the Orient express good?? how’s your day going? :DDD

also sending you love!! <333 😽😽💞💞

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion��  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[loud-whistling-yes]

... So, turns out I did end up writing a part 2 to the oneshot after all, considering im pretty sure red techno anon has now birthed a new au. hooray...?

@wildcardjoey good morning! this thing is 2400 words long. god help me.

(tagging people last i knew wanted a part 2: @parchmentengineer @dragongobrr @carbonated-roses @sunny-is-in-the-void @offcameras @cc3204 ​)

Edit: now available on Ao3! 

.

“The fuck are you people doing down there?” Tommy hollered, voice echoing down the canyon. The group — five people, he counted, all looked up to him.

“Watch your language!” One of them shouted back, and Tommy snorted, a grin creeping up his face.

“Dick!” He cupped his hands and yelled down at them. “Ass! Fuck! Shit! Bitch! Cock! Dick, dick, dick, dick-”

The one with the red helmet and a stupid backpack stomped their foot. He burst out laughing. Oh well, things were getting a little boring around his house anyways, he could use some entertainment.

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

“How did you get here? Pretty sure this server is private or some shit. Y’all just gonna-”

“Why won’t he stop swearing.” Grian complained through gritted teeth. Pearl laughed. 

“You’ve challenged him into a battle. I don’t think you’re gonna win anytime soon.” She grinned, studying the funny boy up the canyon. He had blond hair, tied into a short and messy ponytail behind him, and was that a butterfly clip in his hair? Around his neck was a faded green bandana over a white t-shirt with sleeves as red and loud as his voice was.

The boy squinted. At least, Pearl was pretty sure he was squinting — it’s hard to tell from the distance. 

“You guys need a rope to get out? No one dug a staircase down yet.” He hollered at them. 

“We’ll be fine, thanks!” Grian replied, pulling off his dummy suit. The rest did the same. Pearl stretched her wings. Hers were nowhere as bulky as Grian’s or Impulse’s bird and demon wings, but moth wings are unfortunately a lot less foldable than theirs. The hard backpack Scar made for her might’ve saved her wings from tearing, but wow was her back sore.

Impulse raised an eyebrow, eyeing Grian’s head. “Grian, buddy... looks like your horns got bigger...”

Grian looked over to him, hands reaching up to touch the side of his head, before humming in amusement. Ever since he first got the Tegg at the start of Season 8 (wow, that felt like ages ago) little horns had poked out from the top of his head. They grew horrendously slowly throughout the season. In fact, Pearl was pretty sure his horns barely grew over an inch over the course of six months? Now though, his horns curved up from his hair, much more similar to Impulse’s than before. It must’ve grown at least an inch- no, two inches since their escape.

How long had they been in the void?

“Your wings are changing too,” Mumbo pointed out, gesturing at his molting wings. Grian’s red-yellow-blue feathers of a parrots’ scattered in a mess on the ground, his wings currently in awkward patches of black and the old colours. He unfolded one of the limbs, revealing that the wing was almost completely covered in black scales, turning purple at the tips. Small clumps of parrot feathers clung stubbornly onto the leathery skin, refusing to come off no matter how hard he shook. 

It was silent for a moment. Even Grian himself stared in shock.

“Holy shit, you people have wings?! Where the fu-”

“Grian, when did you have dragon wings?!”

“I mean-” Grian squeaked, everyone electing to ignore the screaming teen above them- “They were molting a bit on the last week before the moon big thing happened, but I thought it’d take forever for them to change completely, not-” He turned his backpack upside down, an impressive amount of brightly-coloured feathers were dumped onto the floor- “this!”

“Well, we did spend like a week’s time floating through the void.” Scar scratched his head. “Maybe that kicked off your dragon puberty?”

“Scar, I love you, but never put those two words together like that ever-”

“Are you guys gonna come up or what?”

“Coming!” Impulse replied for the rest, stretching his own wings. “Grian, you take Mumbo and I take Scar?”

“Sure,” Grian shrugged, trying one last futile attempt at patting off the last of his feathers before grabbing onto Mumbo by the armpits, Impulse did the same with Scar. Elytras were banned on the ship to save space in the suits. Unfortunately, that meant that both Mumbo and Scar will probably have to rely on Grian and Impulse for the foreseeable future. Pearl wished she could help, but alas, having wings as thin as paper was not suitable for carrying the weight of more than one person (she tried it with Gem once; it took her respawning to fix that nasty tear through the back). 

Grian flapped his wings. Once, twice, and the two of them lifted up into the air. Then Grian titled to his side with an awkward turn and before they knew it there was a sharp yelp and Mumbo was back on the ground with Grian collapsed onto him. 

“You guys sure that you don’t need help?”

“I’m fine,” Grian grumbled, pulling himself and Mumbo up. Pearl turned to the blond boy up the crater and gave him a thumbs up, laughing awkwardly. 

“I think the feathers are throwing me off-balance..” Grian dusted himself off, yanking at one of his feathers before hissing in pain when it stayed on the leathery skin. He massaged the area he pulled at, probably regretting his decision. 

He flapped his wings again, testing his flight abilities. Once, twice, thrice, he was well over their heads by now, the wind sending the feathers he dumped on the ground flying as well — then he took a sudden swerve right. Pearl ducked as he crashed onto the floor yet again, feathers fluttering back onto the ground and over him. 

“I could’ve braided the goddamned rope needed to get you guys out by now with the time you’re taking to fly.”

Pearl giggled, watching as Mumbo pulled Grian off the floor, dusting off his feathers in the process. She cupped her hands, yelling at the general direction above her. “We’re stuck, could you go get the rope?”

The boy sprinted off, presumably to get the aforementioned rope. 

“If dragon wings are anything like demon wings,” Impulse chuckled, folding his own wings back down, poking at Grian’s scales. “Then you’ll have to wait till all those feathers drop before you can fly again. They’re really fussy about balance.”

Grian groaned, wings folding out and raised fully like they do when he gets distressed. Back when his wings were feathered they would’ve puffed up as well just to get the point across. Now though the remaining strands of feathers stood up awkwardly amongst the unfazed dragon scales — it was quite a pathetic sight to be honest. 

“The horns took forever to grow out,” Grian complained, head in his two hands. “How long is shedding a few damned feathers gonna take?”

“Oi!” The voice Pearl had begun to grow accustomed to echoed down the crater, interrupting their current conversation. The boy from earlier returned, hand full of a large bundle of rope. Beside him was another person, dragging a hammock behind him.

The person- what were they, actually? They looked almost translucent, as if light went through them without any acknowledgement from their part. They wore black-and-white all over, cloak floating and fluttering in odd ways unlike the wind would do. Even their skin was black-and-white, split down the middle, and they were tall, taller than the other boy by a head, if Pearl had to hazard a guess. 

They turned to the boy, nodding as he seemed to give them some instructions, before he turned away and disappeared from the ledge with one end of the rope with him. The person sat down, taking the rope with one hand and the other holding- were they tying it to the hammock?

They got up after a while, both hands full of the now stringed-up hammock, peering over the ledge and looking over at the group. Pearl was pretty sure they had green and red eyes.

“Oh, hello!” They— oh wait, it’s a he— he greeted, head tilting as he studied the group. 

“Hello!” Scar broke into his characteristic smile, waving at him.

“Tommy’s tying the rope to the fence over there,” The person— ghost?— pointed his chin at the general direction of where the boy had gone. “He said you guys can’t fly? I don’t really know why he said that, considering the only two-”

“Boo!” The boy — Tommy, Pearl now knew him as, hollered from somewhere she couldn’t see. The ghost turned to look behind him. “Yeah?”

Soon enough, Tommy came back in sight, hands now lacking the rope he was holding onto from earlier. He muttered a few words to the ghost— was his name Boo? That’s a cute name— before being handed over the hammock. 

He threw the hammock down towards them, the fabric landing on top of Grian, much to his annoyance. A shriek-like laughter rang from above.

“Very funny.” Grian muttered, pulling the green hammock off him. The rest bit back their own laughter.

“Who’s the lightest of you bunch down there?” Tommy tugged at the rope, causing the hammock to jump up-and-down. There was no hesitation; they all pointed at Grian.

“Get in there, we don’t have all day!” He ordered. 

Grian crawled into the hammock, grumbling all the way. “This kid is gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh come on, he’s helping!” Mumbo laughed, patting him on the back. The hammock suddenly shot up, and Grian yelped, almost falling off. He swung side-to-side like an out-of-control swing.

“Don’t fucking move!” Tommy’s voice rang down again. “Boo, pull harder- You’re really fucking heavy, you know that?”

Grian gritted his teeth, probably resisting the urge to inform Tommy that if even Mumbo could toss him over the shoulder with one hand it probably meant that Tommy had the physical strength of an endermite soaking with a weakness potion if he found him of all people heavy. Then the hammock suddenly dropped and Grian screeched, before catching his heart halfway up his throat when the falling stopped. 

“You guys need help up there?” Impulse asked, hands cupped together and looking up.

“I thought you people- oh my god this was a fucking mistake- coudn’t fly?”

As if on cue, both Pearl and Impulse opened up their wings. Impulse tilted his head at the others. “Are you guys gonna be okay down here?”

Mambo nodded, before continuing his concerned spectation of Grian being dangled up the canyon walls. Scar gave them a thumbs up. “We’ll be fine, I’ll make sure Grian doesn’t go splat on the ground!”

Impulse shook his head, hiding his smile, and the two of them were off. Pearl landed first, earning a startled yelp from Tommy and an amused “Hello!” from Boo, followed by an extremely distressed Grian screaming as Tommy loosened his grip on the rope. The line went taut suddenly, and the screaming stopped. 

Pearl turned behind her; Impulse was gripping onto the rope, chuckling awkwardly. “Hey guys…”

“You’re telling me only that guy can’t fly even with wings?” Tommy blinked, before looking over the cliffside to stare at Grian.

“I heard that!” Grian yelled from somewhere below. 

The rest of the process went a lot more smoothly afterwards, Grian back on solid ground after several quick tugs with Impulse on the team, followed by Mumbo, and Scar was picked up by Impulse while the rest focused on getting Mumbo up, just to speed things up a little. 

“So,” Mumbo started, after everyone had managed to pull him up the cliffside. “Asking on the behalf of everyone else here, who are you guys, and where exactly are we?”

Just as the same time Tommy mutters “Shouldn’t I be the first to ask?” under his breath, Boo answers cheerfully. “Oh, I’m Boo — Ghostboo is my full name, this is Tommy, and you’re on the Dream SMP!”

“I’m sorry, we’re in the what-” Grian cutted himself off, head spinning towards the sky above the canyon, eyes snapping into full attention. “Our stuff!” 

The entire group stared at the sky, Boatem searching wildly for whatever Grian picked up, Tommy and Boo squinted at the sky, puzzled at the reactions. A flash of dark colours appeared in the sky, from afar it looked like random objects on parachutes. Pearl focused harder at the spots, a cow, a horse… Nugget!

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

“Is that a fucking horse in a parachute.” Tommy deadpanned, watching as the demon and the moth hybrid sped through the air to catch the slow-falling animals mid-flight. At the other side of the L’Manhole the other three people yelled from the ground. The guy in the red sweater in particular — was his name Grian?— danced around like a headless chicken, staring up into the sky and screeching whenever a weird black object swayed in the wind.

“I think the girl is holding an egg.” Boo shielded his eyes from the sunlight, observing the scene like it was a drama spoken in a different language: you can kinda tell what the people are doing, but sure as hell ain’t gonna know what the fuck is going on in the bigger picture. “Oh wait, no, it’s a black cat- oh wait no it’s a black cat and a big black egg.”

“Why the fuck, in the two damned dimensions, would there be a big black egg.”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know ei- oh! The demon guy is shoving the cow and the horse towards the water.”

Tommy looked down at the crater. Sure enough, there was the shadow of a horse and a cow slowly growing larger over a pool of water down below. “I think he also has a white cat with him,” Boo added, watching as the girl swooped back down to the ground near the three other people. The guy in the red sweater scooped up the gigantic egg, black wings wrapping around himself protectively like a goddamn mother hen sitting over her eggs. 

“Pretty sure the cat is yellow, Boo.” Tommy argued, studying the scene across the canyon. “Also, did the red guy lay that fucking egg or something? Why is he so… like that with it.”

“Incoming!- Oop, the horse is in the water now… and the cow. Do we have to pull them up with the hammock too?”

He sighed, watching the five new lunatics scramble around one of Eret’s towers, rescuing the random animals that fell from the sky. Again, they never told him how they got here?

“What the fuck…”

[warmau]

☆: bounty hunter! you x thief! minghao au tw: ment of violence/weapons | this was in my drafts so i decided to finish it

“there’s no way in the world any of you are going to catch him, but if you do -”

the head of the police, hong joshua, stands tall and straight behind the podium

the gold of his medals shines harshly under the white light of the town courthouse 

and your mind wanders off as you think about the pretty penny you could get if you were to just happen upon stealing one of those medals....not that a bounty hunter should ever steal 

“but if you do, the police will wipe your own felonious records clean and even offer a good amount of monetary compensation.”

that perks your interest, since you’re currently looking for some extra cash

plus being a bounty hunter isn’t a so called ‘clean’ job - you have stains on your record you’d like to see get erased.

and you know mr. hong doesn’t like you all that much so having him be the one clean up for you is sickly satisfying to some part of your psyche 

you’ve been working in this shitty underground world for too long 

someone’s voice comes from the back of the interrogation room and you don’t even have to look to know that it’s that newbie seokmin 

all excited and bouncy and not-yet-dead-and-cold-inside like the rest of the people around you

“who is the criminal we’re chasing?”

the monitor on the rolled up caddy beside the policeman flickers on 

“xu minghao. he’s a notorious thief in the city, responsible for the last string of high art robberies from the homes and personal collections of the elite.”

you snort, the ‘elite’, being rich makes you some kind of level above human now doesn’t it?

“his latest victims are the choi family, he stole not only paintings but some jewelry as well - possibly high end watches and the sort.”

“choi family?”

god this new kid knows nothing

“choi seungcheol’s family” you say with a yawn “you know, the choi seungcheol - the mayor.”

seokmin gasps and you finally look at him. 

he’s got a build to him that probably helps with physical altercations but he gives off the vibe that he’d faint at the sight of blood

“exactly.” 

joshua shoots a pointed look at you and you kind of dance around in the disgust 

“which is why we are going out on a limb and asking for the bounty hunters to help. the choi family desperately wants these pieces returned to them.”

you look at minghao’s face on the screen, it’s obviously not a mugshot so you note that the police force has actually never caught him

it’s a kind of photo that looks like it has been pulled off a social media account

minghao is standing in some sort of white room, he’s tilting his head and looking at the camera - or maybe the person holding it - and one of his eyes has a piercing blue colored contact in it

his features are angular, sharp, and long - but they fit together to make an unusually handsome kind of face

you slide forward in your chair and take your own phone out to snap a picture of the monitor

“how much for him?”

another voice echoes somewhere from the corner

joshua’s straight-faced expression twitches like he’s trying to believe the number that comes out of his mouth.

“ten million”

you keep counting the zeros in your head as you push your keys into your motorcycle and adjust yourself on the seat

you could retire with that kind of money. you live a frugal existence as it is.

you know that minghao is probably also somewhere in the city, still plotting for his next job. 

he’s been hitting rich people’s houses for two months straight and the choi’s are a victory, for sure, but they’re still not the biggest shark in the ocean.

the people who sponsor them, the people who made seungcheol mayor, minghao has to be going for them next

you make a list of the three family names that come to mind, luckily enough you also know someone who works in the business of ‘technology’ or so who can help you track down the lead forming in your head

you look one last time at the picture of minghao on your phone before you slip it into your jacket pocket and pull out of the parking lot

“how much?”

“stick-up-his-ass hong said ten million, the choi’s really want there watches and monet’s back.”

jihoon turns to you with a deadpan expression

“you know monet’s can go up to ten times that amount right?”

you shrug and shove a half eaten bar of candy in your mouth that you stole from a bowl by his computer

“i don’t know, i didn’t go to college for art history. anyway, can you help?”

“how much of your cut will i get.”

you lick your lips and think for a second

“if i get him alive i’ll cut you in thirty percent. if he’s dead, ten.”

jihoon taps his foot and adjusts the glasses on his nose, he told you once they’re for the blue light or whatever that come out of his six computers.

“deal.”

you come over and see him open up the page of one of the most expensive and professional art dealers in this city, jihoon mentions that this person is in charge of the buying accounts for all of the three families you mentioned

he also happens to manage the choi’s, so looking into him could lead to possible other leads for the three targets you have in mind

“if minghao is planning to rob them - he needs to know what pieces to take. he’s probably also tracking down what they’re currently thinking about buying.”

“yeah, and im gonna assume - you know, bounty hunters intuition or whatever, that he’s going to hit whichever family recently bought the most expensive piece.”

jihoon’s fingers type faster than your eyes can follow. he doesn’t even seem to move his face, just his pupils and then a bunch of screens are popping up everywhere

you had befriended him on an assignment to catch a hacker - not jihoon, although he’s actually got a price on his head too - but another hacker who was clambering up jihoon’s business

you watch as jihoon does his magic, and then in about ten or so minutes you have an answer

“one of the family’s just bought and received a vase from this guy, it won its auction at around twenty five million. it’s from the ming dyn-”

“which family?”

you don’t care if they got a vase, a sofa, a painting, or a gold and diamond encased piece of potato - something in your stomach told you that whoever just spent the most was on minghao’s radar and minghao was on yours

jihoon adjusts his glasses

“that would be ... oh, that would be the yoon family.”

you taste something iron on the tip of your tongue, yoon jeonghan was on the cover of last month’s vogue if you remember correctly

“got it. thanks.”

you shrug your jacket back on and jihoon spins around in his chair when you get to the door of his dark apartment 

“remember, thirty if he’s alive!”

“and ten if he’s not!”

you don’t like the fact that this new kid, seokmin, is standing outside the giant gates of the yoon family mansion 

he’s wearing a cut off white t-shirt and new balances for christs sake

“hey!” he looks like he’s seen the sun when he spots you sort of loitering nearby, you try to ignore him but he’s coming over

“hi.”

“staking out the yoon’s? my first impression was they’d be minghao’s next targets because they’re rich and like art too.”

you wonder how he knows that so you ask, half expecting he might actually tell you - which would be a stupid thing to do.

he does.

“oh! i mean their son is a designer, they must be the best people to steal from.”

that’s so fucking ridiculous but he’s actually right. going to tell jihoon im cutting his share in half since apparently his intel could have been free.

“uhuh. well good luck.”

the words are stale when you say them, but sparkling eyes seokmin takes them to heart with a gracious “you too!”

you actually didn’t come to stake them out - you came to see if minghao might be staking them out

no good thief actually just bursts into someone's home, they need to know every nook and cranny of a place if they want to get out clean

judging by minghao’s track record, you can tell he’s cautious and detailed

you circle the house at a safe distance and then head back home, you read a bunch of articles on minghao’s past crimes and eat the only thing you have in your fridge which is mint ice cream - it was left there by a late night hook up who’d doordashed 7/11 even when you told them not to

you do some other minor research on smaller bounties you could chase after minghao is caught, none are interesting or any where near the price of minghao’s

you lay down and the stray you recently started letting crawl through the fire escape makes a little fuzzy circle at the base of your feet

you look at your phone, look at the photo of minghao

wonder if he’s as detailed orientated in other things aside from stealing. looks like he’d know what to do with his hands.

you fall asleep with the phone on your chest.

the next day, you’re texting jihoon about the seokmin thing - he tells you to piss off and not even think about downing his cut or he’ll leak your social security on the internet

that’s so fucked up dude

you’re a shit bounty hunter and im a hermit hacker we aren’t good people anyway

fine, are the yoon’s buying any other vases or whatever

actually, they won an auction a month ago for some ceramics. heard they’re coming tomorrow.

oh, might be a good time to steal that vase and some extra trinkets too for our thief 

look how ugly these things are tho

jihoon sends you a photo pulled from the auctioning website, they are ugly, but they’re expensive

you rub your temple and decide that’s enough for today, you don’t see seokmin around either

seungcheol’s generic smiling im-a-good-mayor-and-i-kiss-babies face is grainy on your tv

you eat the takeout you picked up on the way back and are only mildly surprised when you notice someone familiar in the crowd

this is old footage, from a rally he did before the crime

your eyes pan to the corner and pull out one person from the sea of faces, everyone looks so excited to see seungcheol, minghao stands staunch and unwavering in the moving bodies

he’s not grinning - he’s kind of half smirking from what you can tell

he really does his research, i kind of like him

you put the chopsticks into your mouth, yeah. i think he’s going to be a fun one to catch.

goddamn seokmin is here again - on the night the drop shipment of the ceramics is scheduled - you tell yourself you were a clown for believing all that ‘i just thought they’d be the right family!’ bullshit he was telling you about

he probably has an informant of his own, definitely not jihoon though. seokmin is the type jihoon would rather drive a usb through his head than ever cooperate with

you avoid him the second you see his strong shilloute and make your way to the otherside of the house, right on the outskirts of the back garden

there’s one person in it - none of the immediate yoon family you can recognize, probably just a worker

you know there’s three entrances from here - the garden doors, the side opening that leads to an underground washing room, and there’s also a way to get into the back of the kitchen

you are betting that either one of them might be a good choice for minghao, but you put your bet on the washing room - it has stairs that lead up into a spare bedroom which is adjacent to a gallery type room inside of the huge mansion

it’s where the family will probably put the items, rich people love to be all like “look at my room of expensive things you don’t get to touch”

you stick your tongue out to yourself, morally you don’t care about thievery. especially when it’s stolen art stolen from people who just want it to feel superior to others

but minghao is worth ten million, that’s why im taking the higher ground on this ‘crime’

bounty hunters are allowed to carry guns, but you’ve never liked them - you like to use mace instead

that being said, you’ve brought your gun along - unloaded - just to use a scare tactic if push comes to shove. it’s heavy and it reminds you constantly of the job you came to do.

no getting distracted by newbie muscle heads or how hot you’re coming to think minghao is 

you hear something - eyes darting to behind one of the columns of a large gazebo in the garden

you swear you see something slink across as the only person in the garden gets up to head back inside

keeping your movements and noise to a minimum, you position your body for a better view and after what seems like two heartbeats you see him dart from the enclosure and toward the mansion

you don’t follow immediately, the only way you’re going to catch someone who is so elusive is if you one up him

you have the element of surprise, but not really, he might be expecting personal guards of the yoon household or the police

not a rogue bounty hunter with a can of mace

but he’s still expecting - and someone whose entire job is to be like a shadow - you’ve got to be careful

you wait the amount of time you deem appropriate and then do the same, you realize when you slip through the backdoor of the washroom that now you’re also committing a crime of breaking and entering

you’re sure the yoon’s won’t mind though - you are about to make sure their ceramics and vases don’t get stolen

plus, you checked up on all of them, the main family shouldn’t be home. the only people on premises are some cleaners and the gardener. you’re sure minghao knows that too.

you map out the house in your mind from what you’ve learned in the past couple of days and find the gallery with ease

you can see the large double doors are open just enough for a person to slip through

so he’s already in ther-

“HEY YOU! YOU BETTER STOP!”

your eyes widen and you push inside to see what’s going on 

seokmin, flashing something in his right hand and holding a light in the other is pointing at the long, lean figure of minghao

he’s standing there in the circle of light holding the vase you and jihoon had been looking at before

his eyes are unimpressed when they settle on seokmin

“ok, ive stopped - now what are you going to do?”

“im going to arrest you and bring you to the poli-”

the vase that’s held professionally between both his arms then gets dropped and crashes to the floor

the crescendo of noise startles seokmin because it’s the one thing all these new kids who want to try this kind of work get wrong

the thief is never going to drop the valuable goods - except they are, getting caught is worse then anything else. 

there will always be shit to steal - except you know if you’re in jail.

minghao beelines for the doors and you’re there, big grin and mace in hands

“hi!”

his eyes widden and you tackle him with ease, one hand bent behind his back as you make sure to keep your weight off him

“ugh, that big idiot had a partner?”

“he’s not my partner, by the way that vase is worth more than what im getting for your head.”

minghao shifts his cheek against the hard floor of the gallery and he’s smiling back up at you

“how much for me?”

“choi’s but ten million.”

he makes a pfft sound as he releases air from between his lips

“cheap as fuck.”

seokmin tries to bound over to help once he comes to, but you bite at him to back off. this is your win.

he says he can drive you and minghao to the station, but you tell him again that you’ve got this on your own

you kind of feel bad about how flustered he is and you tell him he can still brag about how you two were the only people with sense to look at the yoon’s 

for some reason, that actually brightens him up. he leaves to go downstairs and you don’t know if he sticks around or goes off on another job.

you get the handcuffs on minghao’s wrists before the workers, who hear the noise come running up in terror

you flash your bounty id and they scramble to get a hold of the local police office

minghao sits up against the wall and you sit directly in front of him - you can see him better with the lights on

his dark hair is long in the back and messy, his eyes are brown and long and twinkle when you look into them

the bottom corners are highlighted by what you can’t tell if is sweat or glitter

“you’re different”

he starts and you put up a finger

“im not different, im just experienced.”

“you like money more than you like your morals.”

you put the finger down and gleam at him

“bingo”

“so why are you sitting here waiting to hand me over for some chump change like ten million dollars when you and i are inches away from a collection that’s worth close to a hundred million?”

you touch the holster on your hip and tilt your head

“we - even the two of us - wouldn’t be able to steal everything in there. we’d need a whole team and-”

you start as minghao open’s his mouth to counter. all his teeth are white and straight.

“and if we could, you’d backstab me and take it all and run because you just said it yourself. money over morals.”

“ive got morals when im dealing with the right people.”

the snort you let out is louder than you expect and it makes minghao cock an eyebrow

“don’t care, you’re a professional liar. plus hong said he’d clear our records and get us that money.”

“joshua hong works for choi seungcheol who is a bigger liar than i am and you know it.”

there’s real spite in the way he says it - you assume he’s probably had interactions with both. or he’s just grown up in this city like you have, all the trouble politics can cause - all the stupid, underhanded shit that goes on

he leans a little forward

“plus, you’re hot. usually anyone who manages to catch me is very gruff and very mean.”

“i am gruff and mean, don’t test me.”

you banter but then look around and the gardener who was supposed to stay up here with you and minghao has turned his attention elsewhere - normal people don’t like facing criminals and well...whatever category bounty hunters are in.

“what’s the most expensive thing in that room.”

you ask under your breath suddenly, the police won’t be here for another five minutes at least. 

you text jihoon to tap into their comms and let you know the exact moment they’re at the door.

minghao shines that grin, slender fingers lift up and toward the door

“i broke it, but that place is jammed of other million dollar treasures. i saw an original signac that could score us close to 17 million.”

“a signac? who is that?”

minghao laughs with his hands still behind him

“so you’re hot but not into art, i can still work with that. he’s an artist, paul signac. the yoon’s own ‘la corne d'or.’” 

you shrug your shoulders again and pretend you don’t hear the first part but mutter that art doesn’t make sense to you and minghao lets out another quieter laugh

“it’s a painting of boats but it looks psychedelic almost, super colorful. thirty six or so inches across.”

you think to yourself - one painting and it’s 17 million, what if you get another painting with it

“ok...anything else in there catch your eye?”

minghao wiggles a little 

“lots, i know art like people know starbucks orders. very well.”

your phone pings and it’s jihoon’s warning. the police are going to be coming upstairs to take minghao off your hands in the next sixty to ninety seconds.

“i can’t trust you.”

he thins his lips and then taps your foot with his own, does a weird jostle of his body and then to your shock breaks out of his handcuffs with ease

he rubs his wrists as you think you hear some noise downstairs and the gardener jumps out of his seat to go greet the police without noticing the thing that just happened only a feet away from him

“i’ve had a bobby pin this whole time, i could have run away five whole minutes ago instead of giving you a history lesson on boat paintings worth more money than you’ve ever dreamt of.”

you don’t miss a beat 

“let’s get the fucking boats then.”

you get up and minghao takes a hold of your hand in a way you haven’t experienced since maybe middle school

like when a beloved childhood friend would take you and lead you toward the playground, giggle about school or your parents, pull you in to a fun moment under the basking sun

you and him stand, hand in hand, in front of the painting he mentioned

it’s pretty, it almost looks like it was drawn by crayons, you wonder why it’s so expensive 

“let’s take it and the two sketches over there, one’s a lady with a piano the other is a couple under an umbrella

“are they-”

“at least two million each. plus - we can comeback for the ceramics later.”

you don’t know why it makes you feel warm - but it does and you take the two framed sketches off the wall

the painting is large, but minghao has done this enough times before that he knows how to handle it - you two are out the hall and down the stairs by the time you hear the police shuffling up them

took their time thinking he’d just be sitting up there wrapped up like a present huh?

you think to yourself, minghao is quick on his feet and leads you in the direction of a inconspicuous looking tiny car that could seat you, him and maybe that stray that hangs around your apartment 

he opens the back and it is a perfect size for the painting

“did you come here on your bike?”

you realize the whole look of you must give away the fact that you ride one

“never, i dont bring it on jobs because people know what it looks like.”

he tips his fingers toward you in acknowledgement

“good because this car isn’t mine either, so add auto theft to the list of crimes you’re committing with me on this first date.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, can’t tell if he’s joking or not

he hits the gas before there’s any movement on the street where it’s parked - the yoon mansion fades into the distance as he rushes into the evening traffic

“is this the part where you kick me to the curb?”

you ask

minghao takes one hand off the wheel and puts it on your thigh

“this is the part where you tell me where you live so we can go get your things and ride off into the sunset, bonnie.”

you laugh

“so you’re clyde?”

he looks at you at a red light - looks at your lips and then your eyes

“do you want me to be?”

you can decide the answer to that yourself

*if you’re interested here is la corne d’or on the sothebys website. 

[restapesta]

hi emina! happy last week of no school ♥♥

15. “Finally. Missed you so much.” but make it sort of in front of other people??🙏🙏🙏 if u want. it's okay if not, too!

MONDAY

---

ian (1:11 AM): it's hot as fuck here. can't sleep.

ian (1:12 AM): also, lip snores

mickey (1:12 AM): that's what you get for leaving me

ian (1:13 AM): drama queen, i only left this morning. be back in just a week.

ian (1:13 AM): why are YOU awake?

mickey (1:14 AM): fuck you, just a week. 🖕🖕🖕

ian (1:14 AM): 🙄

ian (1:14 AM): go to sleep

mickey (1:15 AM): you woke me up???

ian (1:15 AM): doesn't matter. just go to sleep.

mickey (1:15 AM): probably not

ian (1:16 AM): ???

mickey (1:17 AM): can't sleep without you

incoming call from ian (1:17 AM)

---

TUESDAY

---

mickey (11:22 AM): college bitch still pissed at us for waking him up?

ian (11:25 AM): isn't speaking to me. bitched about it to fiona the entire morning.

ian (11:25 AM): "can't go a night without him." blah blah

mickey (11:25 AM): fuck him. wyd right now?

ian (11:27 AM): helping Fi with the moving shit.

ian (11:27 AM): you?

mickey (11:28 AM): lunch with tami. bitching about lip.

ian (11:29 AM): 😌

ian (11.29 AM): that same lip is currently screaming my ear off to get off the phone.

ian (11:29 AM): keep bitching, my love

mickey (11:30 AM): tell him to fuck off.

mickey (11:30 AM): also, call me when you're done

ian (11:31 AM): 😘

mickey (11:31 AM): 🙄🖤

(12:57 PM) incoming call from ian

(16:44 PM): incoming call from mickey

(21:44 PM) incoming call from ian

---

WEDNESDAY

---

mickey (09:06 AM): come back home, im bored.

mickey (09:06 AM): Fiona doesn't need you for an entire fucking week.

ian (09:10 AM): 😬 just five more days

ian (09:10 AM): Fiona says hi!

mickey (09:11 AM): I'm horny, this is stupid.

ian (09:12 AM): handy-dandy hand 😁

mickey (09:12 AM): 🖕🖕🖕🖕

mickey (09:13 AM): ...something to work with?

ian sent a link (09:14 AM)

mickey (09:15 AM): you did not just send me the benefits of a cold shower, you bitch.

ian (09:16 AM): loveeeeee youuuuuu

mickey (09:16 AM): 🙂🔪

incoming call from ian (12:33 PM)

incoming call from ian (17:29 PM)

incoming call from mickey (00:12 AM)

---

THURSDAY

---

ian (08:12 AM): I'm horny.

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): mickey

ian (08:13 AM): MICKEY

ian (08:14 AM): babyyyyyy

ian (08:14 AM): pleaseeeeee come on, you're not sleeping rn

mickey sent a link (08:16 AM)

ian (08:16 AM): i deserved that.

mickey (08:17 AM): handy-dandy 🤛

ian (08:17 AM): hate myself at this moment 🙂

mickey (08:17 AM): 🤭😘

-

ian (09:44 AM): coffee on facetime?

incoming call from mickey (09:45 AM)

---

FRIDAY

---

ian (14:22 PM): sorry for the ghosting

ian (14:22 PM): Fiona's been killing me with the whole apartment cleaning shit

ian (14:23 PM): And Lip's hiding from her so he's always with me.

ian (14:23 PM): i know it's been a day.

mickey (14:25 PM): well, well, look who decided to text their husband finally

mickey (14:25 PM): it's been a whole day, ian.

mickey (14:26 PM): we are no longer on speaking terms.

ian (14:26 PM): 😲😨

ian (14:26 PM): i'm sorry.

ian (14:26 PM): i miss having breakfast with you.

ian (14:27 PM): i miss sleeping with you

ian (14:27 PM): i miss kissing you

ian (14:28 PM): and doing other things with you 😏

ian (14:28 PM): miss you so fucking much.

ian (14:28 PM): mick?

mickey (14:30 PM): ugh fine, you sap

mickey (14:30 PM): call me

incoming call from ian (14:31 PM)

---

SATURDAY

---

incoming call from mickey (18:55 PM)

ian (19:24 PM): phone sex is cool, but we should try sexting 😳

mickey (19:26 PM): i don't need a reminder of your disgusting ass dick anywhere on my phone.

ian (19:26 PM): hm? 🤔 not what you were saying ten minutes ago.

ian (19:27 PM): you sure you ain't ready for round two? 😏

ian (19:27 PM): bet facetime sex is even better.

incoming call from mickey (19:28 PM)

-

ian (02:22 AM): i miss you. i really fucking miss you.

---

SUNDAY

---

ian (08:02 AM): flight is at 10

mickey (08:04 AM): i'll be waiting for you when you land.

---

It had only been a week. A week filled with phone calls and text messages and a whole bunch of facetime—but, fuck, it had been a week.

Did Ian really have to go on and visit Fiona alone with Lip? Was it really that necessary for him to travel all the way to the alligator land just so they could help Fiona switch apartments? Mickey didn't see the point of the long-ass trip to Florida just so Ian could complain about how humid it was and how it was a blessing he didn't share a room with Lip anymore.

Mickey missed him. He missed him a lot more than he thought he would, and he really should've considered the fact that he and Ian spent most of their time together. They may have been apart before for long periods of time, but it was hard to tear them away from each other nowadays.

So maybe it wasn't that much of a surprise he'd had a hard time adjusting to the empty space of their apartment and the coldness of their bed. The lack of dad jokes during their long rides at work and the unmistakable scent of Ian that had been slowly fading and was almost gone now.

That was Mickey's excuse for not doing laundry. He didn't wanna lose Ian's smell from their home. The sappy excuse would probably work with Ian, he thought.

And even if it didn't, Mickey could distract him from his annoyance in other ways.

Airports sucked.

Being in an airport, waiting on Ian and Lip with their family of twenty thousand—or six, whatever—sucked even more.

But the plane had already landed and it would be just another couple minutes before Mickey saw his husband for the first time in a week. Before he wrapped his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug. He didn't even give a shit if anybody saw him and thought how big of a fag he was.

Husband. That was the only thing on his mind currently.

"They should be here already," Tami said, bouncing Fred up on her hip.

Debbie shrugged from beside Mickey, one hand tightly holding onto the redheaded girl between them. She was fisting the fabric of Mickey's jacket, and it made Mickey smile. It eased the anticipation a little.

Who was he kidding? There were swarms of bees in his stomach, poking and stinging. He felt slightly nauseous.

"I think I see Lip!" It was Liam who exclaimed.

Mickey didn't see Lip.

But he did see the redhead trailing right behind him, a suitcase in his right hand, recently bought for the trip. His hair was ruffled, and his eyes were sleepy, the jet lag probably hitting him in full swing.

Still, the green orbs Mickey missed so much lit up the moment he noticed Mickey, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a wide smile.

Mickey wasn't any better. He could feel the grin stretching across his face involuntary, yet he did nothing to hide it. Nothing to stop it from spreading. He didn't care to hide the excitement he was feeling upon seeing Ian for the first time in a week.

A week.

His legs moved on their own accord, and in what felt like no time at all, he was engulfed into a hug, Ian's long arms circling him—it was familiar; comfortable, and warm.

"Fucking finally," Ian choked out against Mickey's hair, his lips pressed to the top of his head, cradling his body gently. "I missed you so much."

Mickey tilted his chin up and their lips connected in a brief kiss. Just a peck that turned into a couple more, all loud on the pullback, their limbs still wrapped up in each other.

"Missed you more."

They stared into each other's eyes longingly for a couple of moments—it was probably too soft and sappy for them, but who gave a shit? They hadn't seen each other in a week.

What interrupted them eventually were a few short coughs, as if somebody was clearing their throat.

Mickey glared at Lip, practically forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the man he was holding.

"We done with the reunion or you guys wanna continue making out in the middle of the airport...?"

Ian was the one who flipped him off, finally disentangling himself from Mickey so he could greet his siblings properly and pick Franny up into a long hug. It made Mickey frown, the loss of contact. He forced himself to endure it, though—half an hour of a ride longer and they'd be home alone, free to do whatever the fuck.

Still, as soon as they were done with the obligated reunions and the questions about Florida and Fiona, Ian found himself next to Mickey again, gripping Mickey's palm and intertwining the fingers with his own.

Who gave a shit if anybody was looking? Who gave a shit if Lip was rolling his eyes at the obvious display of affection or if Carl was making obnoxious kissy faces at them as if they haven't been married for a while now—Mickey saw none of that shit.

All Mickey saw was Ian.

[jae-daddy]

Duff (11)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, mature, smut  plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: it’s been a while, my bad. but the next chapter is going to spicyyyyyyyy. not edited, hope yall enjoy it <3 stay safe out there <3

Your jaw dropped as the driver drove through the gates and up the long driveway to Park Jinyoung’s mansion. You knew he was rich, but you didn’t know he was this rich. But even more than the vast wealth the Parks had, you were more taken by the decorations that started from the gate all the way up to the main entrance. 

You turned towards Jaebum who was watching you already. You felt the golden glow of the lights outside flow into the unlit car, and somehow you could see something glint in his dark eyes. 

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Mr Kim?” you looked out the window again, to see the sparkling lights making a rendition of Van Gough’s starry night. You smiled to yourself a bit, “It might be a bit cliche and basic, but starry night is my favourite piece of artwork.” 

The driver hummed in reply, saying something about taking a picture for his daughter.

Jaebum didn’t reply, and you didn’t mind. Him and you weren’t exactly on friendly speaking terms, well at least not in your books. 

Since that day in the office, Jaebum had tried to talk to you numerous of times, but you avoided him. You didn’t want to hear his empty apologies or empty excuses or empty flirty, or whatever meaningless, empty words he wanted to say to you because he was feeling bored. 

You didn’t even think he would pick you up today, but when you called up your driver, Jaebum had pulled up in his sleek black car. It was a moment that you seen in movies, where the male lead sees the female lead with her makeover for the first time, and he’s blown away. 

But Im Jaebum wasn’t blown away. He wasn’t even fazed, if anything he found you so unappealing that he couldn’t bear to look at you for more than two seconds without looking away in pain. 

Was he always such an asshole?

He probably was, but back then he was trying to charm you with his sweet words. Maybe, he was a sicko who liked girls who weren’t into him, and as soon as you showed him any interest he vanished into the night. 

The car stopped at the red carpet laid out at the entrance, and you began to check your outfit and lipstick for the last time before reaching for the door. Your hand was reaching for the handle when the door swung open, and a hand reached in for you. 

You placed your hand in theirs, and carefully got out of the car. 

You stepped out to find yourself chest to chest with Jaebum. His fingers gripping onto your fingers as you stared up at him. 

You cleared your throat and began taking a step away from him, when he reached out and pulled your body against his by your waist. Your hands laid flat against his chest, the black material feeling rich on your skin. HIs dark eyes drifted to your lips, before they looked away purposefully. 

You turned around to find the car driving off behind you that you were about to bump into. You looked up at Jaebum, your cheeks tainting pink, “Thanks.” 

“Watch where you’re going,” was all he replied, as he let you go. 

Your heart once again sank at the lack of endearment, but you ignored it and adjusted the dress before you began following Jaebum into the mansion. 

Jaebum was instantly surrounded by people. People lining up around him, trying to play it off as they waited for their turns for introductions. You were right next to Jaebum, introducing him to everyone. 

The first hour was spent just like that, making introductions and standing next to Jaebum and pretending like you were invisible. The other important people only gave you a passing glance before looking away, no one stared for too long. You weren’t worth their time. 

You didn’t mind though. 

You enjoyed the architecture of the building and the artworks hanging around the hall. This must have really been a castle at some point you concluded after an hour of staring at the walls. You wondered which kind of ruler lived here before, but you knew for certain whoever it was wasn’t a good person; no in power ever is. 

Jaebum and you had drifted away about fifteen minutes ago, but you kept an eye out for him. He was currently taking to Paul from work, so you thought he was in safe hands. You took another mini-sausage roll before washing it down with another glass of expensive champagne. 

You didn’t like that taste even though it was exquisite. All it did was remind you of the night Jinyoung engaged to that woman in front of you, after telling you he loved you a few hours ago. 

“I finally found you,” a deep voice spoke behind you. His voice fell over you like velvet, and you struggled to breath. 

You turned around, already annoyed, “What are you doing here, Jinyoung?”

“You’re casual and feisty today,” he chucked, moving to stand next to you. He picked up a mini-sausage and popped it into his mouth, before waving a hand around, “This is my party, incase you’ve forgotten, y/n.” 

You snorted, “How can I forget with this champagne? Tell me, was this your favourite before you chose her or did it happen after?” 

“Woah,” Jinyoung tried to take the glass from you, but you moved it out of his reach, “How many of those have you had?”

“None of your business,” you gave him a straight smile. “None of these people are drinking anything anyway. And I needed a drink, it’s just been so hard lately.” 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, but straightened your spine right away, “I’m not drunk, Jinyoung. I just don’t have the energy to fight or pretend, at least not with you, not tonight.” 

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not,” Jinyoung clicked his tongue, playfully. “I kind of like it when you fight with me.” 

“God, you’re such a perv, Jinyoung,” you groaned, and he laughed. 

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand and gesturing to the dance floor. “Dance with me?” 

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?” 

“Are you sure you want to dance with me?” You asked him, with a knowing look. “I know this is a party, but I am still just an assistant here. Are you sure your reputation won’t hurt from dancing with someone like me? I’m not made of money like you, Jinyoung.” 

“Beauty and wealth are both welcomed here, y/n,” Jinyoung took your hand in his, “And you have a wealth of beauty, my dear.” 

He brought your hand to his face, his lips brushing over your knuckles. 

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, your heart sinking slightly. “You think I am pretty.”

Your gaze went to Im Jaebum who didn’t spare you a single glance. Your eyes fell on the girl he was talking to, and you couldn’t help but notice how different she was to you. You couldn’t but notice how different Jaebum looked talking to her; kind and well-mannered. 

“I’ve always found you beautiful, y/n,” Jinyoung said, drawing your attention back to him. “That’s why I was drawn to you in the beginning, and when I got to know you... well, I guess that was the end of me.” 

You laughed lightly as you placed your hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hand. His hands rested on the curve of your clothed hip. 

“But today,” he smiled at you, “You looked absolutely gorgeous.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Jinyoung. If you were so taken by me,” you laughed, teasingly, giving him a look. You continued your words turning sour, “You would’ve chosen me.” 

“You know how things were back then, y/n,” Jinyoung sighed, he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. He opened them to stare into yours with so much emotion, you couldn’t breathe. 

“I looked for you, you know,” he spoke over the music. You couldn’t blink or breath as you stared at Jinyoung. His brows creased as if he was rethinking a painful event. “After I decided to end the engagement... after I broke it off, I looked for you. I searched for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I- I went back home,” you whispered. You saw yourself laying in a pool of your vomit and urine, and your mother and father crying around your limp body. “I couldn’t stay here. Everyone was talking about you... it was too much.” 

“Y/n,” Jinyoung said, softly. You looked up to meet his gaze. “It’s nice to have you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

“Jinyoung-” 

“May I cut in?” 

“Always interrupting us, isn’t he, y/n?” 

You turned to find Jaebum glaring holes into Jinyoung’s head. 

“What if I say no?” Jinyoung pouted, teasingly. Jaebum sighed, his patience running thin. You looked around to see people already turning this way. 

“Stop it,” you gritted through your teeth at the both of the them, your lips holding a smile. “People are starting to look.” 

“I’ll dance with him for a bit,” you smiled at Jinyoung, “Thank you Jinyoung.” 

Jinyoung smiled back at you before giving you a cheeky wink. You chuckled watching him walk away. 

“You both seem closer than last time,” Jaebum said from behind you. You shrugged stepping closer to him placing a hand on his shoulder and the other in his hand. You were holding Jinyoung the same way a few moments ago, but somehow this felt different. 

The soft velvet of his jacket, the heat of his skin, the short hair tickling your fingertips at the nape of his neck. It was all somehow more intense, more intimate. 

Jaebum’s warm hands wrapped around yours as he took another step closer towards you. HIs other hand rested on your waist, pulling you in closer as it rested on the small of your back. His thumb caressed the exposed skin from your dress and you drew in a sharp breath. 

You didn’t say anything as you looked up at him. His dark eyes bore into yours, his lips drawn and tight. His jaw clenched and sharp, his black eyelashes gently fluttering across his cheekbones. 

He was beautiful. 

He was a sin in this all black suit made to precision for him. His hair was styled in-between completely swept back and lazy natural. His lips were rosy pink, and even without his lip-ring you wanted to taste them between your lips. 

You leaned closer to him. HIs thumb gently caressing your back, electricity dancing up your spine making your head spin. You welcomed his minty breath falling over your lips, as your eyes fell to his lips. And to his neck, watching as he swallowed nervously. Your gaze fluttered up to meet his eyes fixed on your face. 

You looked away from him feeling your cheeks flush, “Are you having a good time tonight, sir?” 

Jaebum only hummed in reply, his dark eyes still trained on you. 

Your eyes met his intense gaze for a moment before looking away instantly, “It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it is,” Jaebum said. You didn’t say anything more and bit your lip wondering if you should continue to dance with him or excuse yourself. 

You looked up at Jaebum, your hands letting go off him. 

Jaebum’s hand held yours tighter as he pulled you in closer by your waist. Your front was completely pressed against him now, and your body shivered as he leaned his lips close to your ear. 

You felt his warm breath caress the slope of your neck, and you closed your eyes letting the feeling sink deep within your bones. 

Jaebum drew his lips higher, his softness brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Thank you for everything, y/n.” 

You remained like that for a moment. Soaking in his presence, his heat, his touch, his breath, him somewhere deep inside your heart, and then you leaned back. 

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mr Im,” you smiled up at him. 

Jaebum stared at you with an unreadable expression as his lips parted. 

“You must be glad you’ll be getting a proper secretary now,” you laughed, but there was no humour between you two. 

“I might not stay.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But if you do, I think it’ll be the biggest win for the company.”

Jaebum might be an asshole, a player; a complete fuckboy. But he was also hardworking, intelligent and gave his all into his work and accomplished a lot within the last three months you were working with him. 

“Loosing you is probably the biggest loss,” he said, pausing for a moment. “For me.” 

“I’m sure there are more qualified then me for this job.” 

“But I only want you, y/n.” 

You breath got caught at his words. Your wide eyes met his that stared at you as if you were the stars and the moon. As if once again you were presented to him as impossible puzzle, and he wanted to get lost in trying to solve you. 

He moved in closer, and lowered your gaze to avoid his heated ones. 

Jaebum lifted his hand from your waist. His fingertips brushed your cheeks with the slightest touch as he whispered, “You look beautiful, y/n.”

“Jaebum, stop it.” You began moving out of his arms, but he pulled you back in. His fingers digging into your waist as he held you steady in front of him. 

“Why?” His fevered breath fell over your face as you looked up at him. His eyes were wild with darkness, but it didn’t scare you. It only made you mad, so terribly horribly mad. 

“Why?” You spat, quietly. Your chest was heaving as you tried to control the anger that had been swelling inside you over the past month. 

“Don’t you think we’re past these little games of yours?” You sneered up at him. Your hand on his shoulder tightened as you tried to control yourself. “We already know I fell for it. Do you wanna see if I’ll fall for it again after being rejected once?” 

Jaebum didn’t say anything so you snorted. The sneer on your dark lips growing as you looked down your nose at him, “I won’t let you lead me on again, only to make a fool of me like that. I’m not going to play this sick game of yours.” 

Jaebum’s fingers bit harder into your waist making you gasp as he pulled you flush against him. HIs nose almost brushed against yours, as he breathed harshly, “A game? You think all of this was a game for me?” 

“What else could it be?” You snickered at him, both your hands flattening on his shoulder, trying to push him away with attracting any attention. But he wouldn’t budge a centimetre. You gritted through your teeth as you glared up at him, “Why else would you pretend to be into me? Play with me like that?”

Play with my feelings like that?

Jaebum’s hands rested on your exposed back as he held you steady against him. His jaw clenched, his eyes furious as he tried to control his breathing. 

“It wasn’t a game for me.” 

You ignored his words. 

“Then what was it?” You bit back. “You made it seem like you felt the same way only to reject me when I-”

“I didn’t reject you,” Jaebum cut you off. 

You began laughing mockingly, and Jaebum shook you slightly to make you look at him.  

You didn’t say anything and looked up at him, your lips parted in surprise. 

“Do you,” Jaebum whispered, leaning in closer to you as he leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes stirring golden as they stared into yours, his fingertips softly dancing on your back, causing fire to dance through your vines. “have any idea how crazy you make me, y/n?” 

Suddenly it was all too much. His touch, the way he was looking at you, the things he was saying. The lights shining down upon you two, the chattering of people around you. It all became to loud too much. Your heart beat loudly in your ear as you took a step away from him. 

Jaebum looked at you, expectantly. You stared him, unable to hear a single bought. The only thing you could hear was your heart beating thumping loudly in your ear. 

Your lips parted, you were going to say something. You weren’t sure what. Jaebum’s gaze fell to your lips, waiting for you to the say the words. You took another step back, not saying a single word. 

The smile on Jaebum’s lips dropped as your brows creased as a sudden panic before settling in your chest. You needed to get away.

“I-” you began. 

“Y/n!” You turned to saw a fury of red first, and then her smiling face as she jumped in front of you. “I didn’t know you were coming here.” 

Heather turned to Jaebum, placing a kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained on you, his face void of any emotions. 

Heather smiled at you, “Go away, JB. I won't let you steal my best friend.” 

// 

You were next to Heather the rest of the night, but your eyes still followed the man in the black suit. His sharp eyes met yours throughout the night, but every time you looked away. 

You were looking at him once again. There was something pleasant about his lips when he talked, and the way those whiskers appeared on his cheeks when he would smile or laugh brightly. You couldn’t look away from him no matter how hard you tried. 

You watched him talk to Park Jinyoung with a frown on his face, that deepened when Jinyoung looked your way and winked. His hard glaze travelled to you, as his lips drew into a straight line. 

You looked away once again, your cheeks on fire. 

“Are you okay?” Heather asked. You looked towards her to find her following your gaze to the pair of males. 

“Mhmm,” you nodded, taking a sip of the champagne.

You watched Heather take a sip too, but you noticed that knowing smile on her lips. 

This was all too dangerous.