#like if everyone could just like hang out at the school/ near campus for 2 hours every day

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

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[calicoheartz]

Déjà Vu ; Paige Bueckers ౨ৎ•

꣑୧ — summary | based on the song “Deja vu” by Olivia Rodrigo !

wc ; 1.4k

— warnings | Paige lowkey being a bad girlfriend , jealousy , arguments , use of foul language , angst , etc.

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : i ❤️ writing angst 😈 , tried something new while using a different song. Enjoy bestiesss ◡̈

It had been weeks since you and Paige had broken up, things were just too complicated between the two of you.

You wanted something serious, something made to last. But Paige wasn’t necessarily interested in that, while she did love you; you two were just opposing forces. Your relationship was trying to force two magnets together that clearly didn't attract to each other, or trying to force puzzle pieces together.

While you wish you could say it ended on good, mutual terms, the truth was quite far from that. You and Paige continuously argued throughout the couple of weeks leading up to your split. Whether it was about who you both were hanging out with, who didn't do the dishes, your social media presence, you've probably argued about absolutely anything under the sun.

Which is why when she suddenly broke up with you, you weren't surprised to say the least. You practically saw it coming, both of you slowly distancing yourselves, spending less and less time together, it was bound to happen at some point. But at this point in time, you were tired of begging her to talk to you, begging her to work things out with you. You simply gave up, knowing in the back of your mind that if it was meant to be it would've been, and things would have already fallen into place.

You had already figured that she had moved on, you just didn't expect it to be that fast. You knew the type of person she was, but it did sting a little bit knowing that your 2 ½ year relationship didn't really mean that much to her. Your mind instantly starts thinking of the what-ifs, what could have possibly made a difference in your relationship, and this infuriated you.

I mean, what the fuck was her deal? Trying to tell everyone you both ended amicably, how you eventually wanted to try again, but immediately getting with some other chick? I mean come on now. That was just petty and low.

And as if the universe was playing a joke on you, with the weeks after your breakup it seemed as if you were seeing the blonde everywhere, whether it was throughout the campus grounds, or perhaps at the gym. But nothing could have prepared you for your next encounter with the 6’0 point guard.

It was a friday night, and you had just finished your last final of the school year, the air was cool, and the sun was setting. Your friends had decided to celebrate by going to an end of the year house party, hosted by one of UConns most infamous frat houses.

To be frank, you didn't really feel like going, the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk college kids didn't really appeal to you. But somehow, your friends managed to convince you.

You wore a skin tight, tantalizing, black lace dress with some simple black pumps, dabbing a tiny, but noticeable amount of makeup on your face, that enhanced all your natural features.

As you entered and made your way through the party, music thumped loudly, echoing through the house and drawing people in. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, mixed with the faint scent of cheap cologne and perfume.

Inside, the main room is packed with people dancing, laughing, and drinking. Red cups are scattered everywhere, filled with various concoctions of alcohol. The dance floor is a mass of bodies, moving and swaying to the sound of the music. With Strobe lights flashing, adding to the chaotic atmosphere.

After glancing around and observing the chaos filled room, you made your way to the make-shift bar set up near the kitchen, quickly helping yourself to the wide variety of alcoholic beverages the frat boys had to offer. You soon noticed a figure out of the corner of your eye lurking behind you, not paying any attention to it, you continued to tending to your drinks, hoping that whoever was behind you would just leave you alone.

As you turned around, you were met with a familiar set of blue eyes. The eyes that caused you so much pain and distress. You furrowed your brows, slightly frowning, before spitting out “what the fuck do you want?”, the blonde looked away slightly, before mumbling out a, “I just wanted to apologize to you, and yk make sure we were cool.”

If you weren't pissed off before, you certainly were now. You laughed slightly, before replying, “That's bullshit and you know it P.” Before quickly walking away, hoping to not run into her for the rest of the night.

But of course, the universe just couldn't let that happen. It felt as if everywhere you turned to, there she was, with a girl all over her. Whether she had her tongue down her throat, or occasionally grinding on each other, it didn't matter. All you knew was that this was Paige’s sick and twisted way of trying to make you jealous.

While it's shameful to admit now, you couldn't help but keep the shots coming, doing anything to keep your mind off the blonde.

It was only then when you spotted the two out of the corner of your eye, dancing on the dance floor. For some reason this dance looked oddly familiar, as if you've seen it somewhere. That's when it hit you, this was your dance, a dance you only did when your song was on, which to your luck happened to be playing.

A feeling of adrenaline and anger rushed over you, it was almost as if all your rationale just left your body and went to outer space. You quickly stormed your way over to both of them before spewing “So when you gonna tell her that we did that too??” Before looking over at the girl, who was now in return giving you a confused look, you continued, “She probably thinks its special, but it's all reused.”

“Y/N cmon, can we talk about this somewhere else?” Paige chimes in, before you snap a simple “No no, do you get deja vu when she's with you? Because i mean come on it’s so fucking obvious that-” the blonde cut you off by simply dragging you away from the living room and into the back patio of the house.

“Is that what this is about?” she says harshly, “why are you even so upset to begin with?” You felt as if someone had just punched you, not being able to grasp the fact that she herself can't grasp why you're so upset. “Dont act like we didn't do that shit too paige” you scoffed, “You're so pathetic. A different girl now but there's nothing new.”

The blonde just looks back at you, her gaze softening a bit, she bit her lip in anticipation of what you were going to say next, with tears welling in your eyes you managed to stammer out, “Do you call her, almost say my name? Because let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same.”

A few minutes go by, the blonde remained quiet, just observing you through your sudden fit of rage; something you rarely did throughout your relationship. As if it was like clockwork, you suddenly snapped out of your sudden jealousy filled haze, and simply averted your eyes from Paige and onto the ground below you. Just releasing an annoyed sigh as you came to realization that you just word vomited incoherent sentences of jealousy to your ex.

The girl finally broke her silence, simply saying , “are you finally going to let me get a word in y/n?” But at this point, it was too late for the blonde to try and explain her actions, to give you closure, even tho in reality that is what you wanted; you knew you had to move on and try to rebuild your life outside of the blonde.

You simply shook your head in response, stating a sharp, “No, Paige. Im done trying to get you to understand what you did was wrong, and why it’s shitty that you keep doing it. Im done with you, goodbye.”

Before she could even reply you were already on your way out, the loud environment seeming to drown out everything and everyone around you. But unbeknownst to you, the blonde had given you a reply. Mumbling under her breath just quiet enough that you could hopefully hear it within earshot,

“But I wanted it to be you.”

muahahahahaha !!! Idk how to feel abt this tbh…uhmmmm ??? as always tysm for reading !

[sluttyten]

You In My Arms

Chapter 2: In the Dark

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: You want to be the star of your own love story instead of watching your friends fall in love around you. Just one night opens your eyes to a method to put yourself in a starring role, even if it's not quite in the way you'd always imagined.

length: 11,005

tags: slowburn, friends to lovers, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (public & in private), general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter

Haechan was your first love. 

You met him at a formative time in your life, when you were getting your first true taste of freedom after moving away to attend the university of your dreams. 

At first Haechan was just the funny guy in your orientation group, but then you started seeing him around campus from time to time, noticed that he sat in the middle of the large forum classroom your Psych class was held in, and then you discovered that his friends were friends with some of yours. Your circles overlapped, you were actually both studying for the same degree, and you took full advantage of both of those facts to ingratiate yourself into his life. 

His name was Lee Donghyuck, but his friends called him Haechan. 

The first time he smiled at you with his full, bright smile and told you to call him Haechan, you felt like your heart liquefied in your chest, filling you with this molten feeling of happiness. 

But despite how hard and fast you fell for him, Haechan didn’t look at you as anything more than just one of his friends. You knew why. There was another girl in the group he had his eye on, though he never made a move on her either. You watched for years as all of you danced around each other. She dated several guys and slept around; Haechan slept around a good amount; and you did your very best to fall out of love with a guy you were fairly certain wasn’t interested. 

Your mutual group of friends wasn’t one that necessarily drew lines when it came to relationships. Pretty much everyone had kissed or slept with everyone else, either directly or indirectly. You’d had your share of flings with some of the guys. A whirlwind romance over the summer between your second and third years at university with Mark, then a good portion of your third year you and Xiaojun had been fuckbuddies. 

But through it all, your foolish heart was set on one man. Haechan. 

It wasn’t until your last year at school that you finally saw an opportunity, a little chance for Haechan to move on from your other friend. She started sneaking around with Shotaro, and though no one called them out on it, you thought they were being pretty obvious. Disappearing together at parties, suddenly hanging out together a lot more. 

But they kept it secret, so you never said a word, figuring they would tell all of you when they were ready. 

Your fourth year of study was nearing the halfway point, and this semester felt the most brutal yet. The finish line was nearly in sight, and that was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Your whole future lay on the other side of that line, and sure, you still had the rest of this semester and the next before graduation, but really that was only a few short months away. 

On a long holiday weekend, your friend group planned a camping trip. Someone in the group knew someone who knew someone (a dad’s cousin’s brother-in-law’s kid type of situation) that had a lakefront property that they usually rented out to tourists, set up for glamping and boating and all sorts of things that could keep all of you well preoccupied for a weekend. A deal was made with that distant acquaintance, and your group of friends was given free rein of the property for the weekend. 

You arrived late Friday night with the last of your friends. Of course, the ones that had gotten there earlier in the day had claimed the best rooms, and since you were among the last, you were stuck just wherever, which meant that you were meant to sleep in the room with Karina and Winter, which wasn’t the worst place you could think to sleep, but it wasn’t the best either. They were fine, usually friendly, but among all of your friends, you were probably the least close with them. 

So you slept in the room that night, feeling like you were invading the two girls’ space, and first thing on Saturday morning, you were up and ready for the day to start. 

It was a beautiful day. Since Xiaojun was studying culinary arts, he made a very nice breakfast for all of you, while YangYang – who spenting most weekends bartending – made mimosas. 

Starting out, everything was great. 

It was sunny and warm, the water was perfect. There was a nice little beach, a boat, a dock. Some people played in the water, a few people left to hike on trails in the woods around the lake, you played a round of beach volleyball. 

It was a fun day except that Xiaojun kept sticking rather close to your side. It would have been fine if his intentions were just friendly, but it was the way he kept trying to flirt with you that put a slight downer on the day. Every time you tried to put some distance between you and him, he would find you again. 

You liked him as a friend, but what you’d had with him the previous year was in the past. You weren’t interested in being anything more than friends with him right now. 

At one point, you’d gone out to the end of the dock, hoping that you’d finally get the chance to be alone. Karina was floating on a fancy blow-up pool float that she’d somehow tethered to the dock to keep from floating off into the lake, but she was minding her own business, and you didn’t think she would bother you. 

But then you hear footsteps behind you, and you’re ready to turn around and fuss at Xiaojun to just leave you alone, but then Haechan plops down beside you. He calls over to Karina, and you watch her flick a mildly irritated look at him, but true to character, Haechan doesn’t let that deter him. He slips into the water, and swims right over to her. 

You try to ignore both of them as you lie down on your back on the weathered boards. A light breeze keeps the heat off the sun from fully baking you, and your feet are in the lake water, helping a bit with combating the heat too. You can hear Haechan and Karina talking, hear them laughing, hear voices carrying over the water from the beach behind you. 

Eventually, Haechan lifts himself back up into the dock, spraying you with tiny droplets of water. You’re about to complain about that when Haechan speaks instead. 

“Hey, man!” Haechan calls out in greeting. You don’t even have to look to know who it is going to be. “That breakfast this morning was great.”

“Thanks,” Xiaojun says appreciatively as he approaches. “I have plans for dinner tonight too.”

“He’s using us as a test for his restaurant plans,” you say, tilting your head and squinting in the sunlight. The shadowy figures of Xiaojun and Haechan stand there above you. “You’re both blocking my light.”

Which is how you come to be sunbathing and cloudgazing with Xiaojun and Haechan. Xiaojun’s arm rests against yours, he keeps tapping his foot against your ankle every few minutes too, and you know exactly why he’s being like this. Maybe if he would just come out and ask if you would have sex with him, you would, but he’s just constantly trying to initiate contact and being clingy instead, and you’re not enjoying that. But Haechan’s presence, on the other hand, is something you are enjoying. 

He’s in a particularly good mood, chatty and laughing, pointing up at the clouds to tell you what shapes he sees. 

“I used to do this a lot when I was younger,” he tells you. “My family lives in Jeju, and sometimes my younger siblings and I would just lie on the beach when we got too tired of playing, and we would look up at the clouds.”

You turn your head, resting your cheek on the warm boards beneath you as you look over at Haechan. He’s just gazing up at the sky, one arm lifted to point at a specific cloud that you have no interest in gazing at right now. You’re looking at him beside you, sunlight personified with his golden skin and bright smile. He’s talking and Xiaojun is too, but you’re not listening to either of them. 

And then Haechan looks over at you, and you snap your head around to look up at the clouds again. 

The rest of the day passes. Dinner preparations begin. You disappear inside to shower the feel of sweat, sunscreen, sand, and lakewater off of you. As evening sinks in, the air cools off, so you dress warmer before you return outside to sit by the fire. Most people are gathered out here, though a few of your friends are still inside cleaning themselves up or finishing up preparing food, but you find Haechan sitting in a foldable camp chair with an open seat right beside him. 

You take it. 

He flinches, startled at your sudden appearance, but he relaxes as you start talking. You talk about school of all things – you’d not thought ahead to figure out anything else to talk about right now, only knowing that you wanted to talk with him. But you do end up offering him some study help, and your heart beats a little faster when you think about the chance to be alone with Haechan in a study room in the library or at his dorm maybe. You enjoy Haechan’s presence, so you’ll take any opportunity to be alone with him, even if it is just to study.

“I might take you up on that. But like you said, this is a nice break,” he sighs, and tips his head back, looking similar to how he’d looked earlier on the dock. “I feel like this weekend we can all just relax and let loose.”

You want to let loose, really. To be a little careless tonight and just let your walls fall down, maybe use the excuse of some alcohol to kiss Haechan, to entice him into bed, and if it’s weird in the morning then you can just blame it on the alcohol. Your mind plays with the idea of drunkenly kissing Haechan tonight, sliding into his lap here at the bonfire to kiss him in front of all of your friends. You can already imagine the hoots, whistles, and catcalls, the sounds of surprise because none of them would expect something like that of you. 

You want to let loose, to look as carefree and relaxed as Haechan does. 

Haechan looks over at you, and you realize you’re smiling. He smiles too, an almost involuntary curve of his lips to match your own. 

"When do you ever hold back from letting loose, Lee Donghyuck?" You ask, feeling a happy laugh bubble from your lips. He always seems so carefree, very go-with-the-flow and happy. The idea of Haechan needing to become more loose makes you laugh. 

You see a hint of surprise in his eyes before he’s laughing with you. And then you’re laughing even harder, both of you leaning in towards each other with the gravity of the emotions. 

To no one’s surprise, least of all your own, Xiaojun appears to take the seat on your other side, wondering what you’re both laughing about. He does his very best to steal your attention away from Haechan, and it actually works. 

You do like Xiaojun, he’s a good friend, which is why your friends with benefits relationship had worked out so well for so long last year; he knows the right things to say to you, so you are fully swept into a new conversation with him, and when you next look around, Haechan is gone. 

You try not to let your disappointment show, but you think it must anyway because Xiaojun seems to make it his purpose for the rest of the evening to cheer you up. The food does a good job of that, and then Xiaojun and Chenle’s company does well at keeping you entertained as night falls, a chill creeping in off the lake, and YangYang’s alcoholic creations – as well as a typical cooler of beer – make their rounds. 

You don’t really pay too much attention to the rest of your friends while Chenle is regaling you with a tale of a trip he took, and you’re definitely not paying attention to how much other people are drinking, until you start hearing raised voices, teasing laughter, and Haechan’s voice cutting above the rest. You turn to look. 

They’re teasing Shotaro again, that quickly becomes obvious. 

He’s sitting there in his seat beside your friend he’s secretly been hooking up with for weeks now, and he looks a little embarrassed, but he’s still in the stage of not minding it. But Haechan is the one leading the teasing, and as you watch, you can tell that he’s setting Shotaro’s girl off, she’s getting rather prickly. 

You can tell Haechan is a bit more drunk than most other people. There’s a flush to his cheeks and his neck, a hazy gleam to his eyes, a slight slur to his speech. He’s not wasted, but he’s more drunk than not. He’s just teasing, and as you listen to him, you realize that he’s throwing a few barbed points in there, like he knows something most of your friends don’t. 

Does he know about the secret relationship too?

She gets all defensive, throwing some shots back at Haechan, and that’s when you see the drunken haze clear in his eyes, replaced by an angry heat as she calls his skills in bed into question. The teasing has become an argument, and you watch as Haechan rises to his feet, ready to face off with the girl, and he likely would have if it weren’t for Shotaro and Renjun stepping in. 

Renjun propels Haechan back into the cabin while Shotaro leads his girlfriend off towards the dark lakeshore. 

“Wow,” Xiaojun whistles beside you. “What the hell was that about?”

Chenle laughs. “Taro and her have something going on, don’t they? And Haechan is jealous.”

You keep glancing towards the house, looking for any sign of Renjun and Haechan returning. It was both a little bit scary and also arousing to watch Haechan get so heated. He had been a little bit of a dick, trying to out the secret couple to everyone, and also for really getting in there with teasing Shotaro. 

You’d once talked about it with Shotaro, and he told you that he usually didn’t mind the teasing, because he knew it was lighthearted and it’s just the way that all of the friends teased each other. But you also knew that sometimes it got taken a bit too far, and it was clear that tonight the scales had tipped more in that direction. Haechan had almost pushed it too far tonight, and you knew he was drunk so his judgment was perhaps a bit impaired in that regard. 

Eventually the happy couple returns to the bonfire, receiving congratulations from your friends, and a while after that Haechan returns. 

You keep looking at him, unable to keep your eyes off of him for too long. The flush has faded from his cheeks, and he keeps drinking water for the rest of the night while he snacks on leftovers from dinner, on s’mores YangYang makes, on snacks that people had brought down from the cabin earlier. 

Slowly everyone turns in for the night until only a few of you remain, the number dwindling down to just you, Xiaojun, Jeno, Mark, Haechan, Shotaro, and Shotaro’s girlfriend. 

Haechan has been moodily staring into the fire for the past fifteen minutes. You’ve been watching him do that while ignoring the way that Xiaojun has his hand resting in the armrest of your chair, palm-up like he wants you to take notice, as if he’s hoping that you’ll take his hand and go into one of the fancy glamping tents that are set up sporadically between the cabin and the lakeshore. 

It’s gotten a lot colder as the night has drawn on. Even with your pants and sweatshirt, with a blanket draped over your lap and the blazing fire, you still feel chilled every time that a lick of wind blows in off the lake. It doesn’t help that your feet are bare, so you pull them up beneath your blanket as you shiver. 

Xiaojun notices of course, and he grabs the blanket someone had left on the chair on his other side, and he covers your lap with it. If you’re this cold that you need a second blanket, you think maybe it’s time that you go inside the warmer cabin for the night. Besides, it’s getting late.

Jeno, who you’re fairly certain has been in a competition with himself for how much he can drink tonight without getting blackout drunk, grins crookedly, and suggests, “Maybe before we head in, we all take a dip in the hot tub?”

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night,” Mark sighs and rises to his feet. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m sure it helps that you’ve got someone new to warm your bed though, I bet, Mark!” Jeno laughs as Mark gets up and starts to walk away. 

You laugh along with the rest, knowing that Jeno’s referring to how Mark and one of the girls had disappeared into the cabin for a while earlier tonight. Mark just flips you all his middle finger. 

To your surprise, it’s the new happy couple on the other side of the fire that agrees with Jeno. Haechan lifts his gaze from the fire, brushing it over the couple, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he looks at Jeno. Haechan shrugs and agrees, and from there of course you’re going to agree too. Xiaojun, to your complete surprise, decides that he’s just going to head to bed. 

Xiaojun trudges back to the house alone, wishing you all a good night. The five of you follow the path back up to the cabin’s deck, walking around the side of the deck to the hot tub. 

You feel only slightly embarrassed as you watch the others quickly strip their clothes off. Shirts, sweatshirts, pants until they’re left only in their underwear. Haechan at least still had his swim trunks on from earlier today when everyone had been in the lake, so he’s provided a bit more coverage than the rest of you. You feel his eyes dart over to you as you’re the last to let your shirt fall, the last to shimmy your sweatpants down to your ankles, slipping them off along with your socks. 

You’re too aware that the bra and panties you’re wearing are mismatched. Panties white (a horrible choice for wearing into a hot tub, but it’s not like when you’d dressed earlier this evening you’d expected the night to go like this) and your bra just a lacy bralette that hugs your tits and does very little to hide the way that your nipples peak in the cool night air. You quickly step into the hot tub and dunk yourself in up to your chin, hoping the bubbling surface will hide you. 

It doesn’t take long for you to relax. None of them care or notice. Shotaro and his sweetheart are too enamored with each other. Jeno is finally teetering on the edge of dozy drunkenness. Haechan keeps alternating between looking up at the night sky and trying not to look at the girl tucked against Shotaro’s side. He’s sitting beside you though, and his knee keeps nudging yours under the water. 

One of the jets sits between you and Haechan, and it keeps brushing your side and your thigh, tickling you in a way that thrills you more than anything else. A different wet heat builds between your legs, especially when Haechan leans over to laugh at something you’ve said and he rests a hand momentarily on your thigh. 

You try to ignore your desires. To push it all down and tell yourself that you’re being stupid right now. 

But then his arm drapes over your shoulders (and Jeno’s on his other side, but you pretend that doesn’t matter) and all thoughts vanish except for your brain making a static moan at the feeling of his body warm and hard against your side, his fingers resting against your upper arm. His laugh sounds right beside your ear. 

You don’t even remember what it is that all of you talk about. Maybe classes. Maybe finals coming up or plans for the winter break that follows. It’s not until you smile at the cuddly couple across from you, until Haechan tenses up and withdraws his arm from your shoulders that your mind snaps back into place. 

He stands up and you lift your gaze in awe of him. Water drips from his shoulders over his chest and down his stomach to his navel and his hips. The swim trunks hang low on his hips, weighed down by the water soaking them, drawing your gaze even lower. You bite your tongue as you notice the slight bulge in the front of his shorts, and again you feel a pulse of need and want in your core. 

Haechan doesn’t say a word, just climbs out, grabs his clothes and disappears around the corner of the cabin. 

Is that it? He’s done for the night? He’s had enough of the happy couple rubbing it in his face?

You immediately want to follow him, but you give it a few minutes before you bid the others goodnight, and you hurriedly pull yourself from the water, cursing as the bitter air bites in deep. Even once you’ve bundled your dry clothes against your chest and made a run for the back door of the cabin, you’re shivering and wishing one of you had at least thought to grab towels. 

Jeno’s only a few steps behind you. He looks happy as he comes through the door, a loose grin on his lips. He drops his armful of clothes into one of the chairs around the small kitchen table, mumbles a goodnight, and then he vanishes through the doorway that leads to the room several of the guys are sharing tonight. 

There’s a vent blowing warm air positioned right beside the kitchen table, and as a shiver wracks your body, you collapse into one of the chairs right there. You fold your arms on the table, drop your forehead onto your arms, and you try to purge your mind and body of the lust you’re feeling from the sight of Haechan emerging from the hot tub like a sea god. 

It doesn’t work. 

Your mind’s eye keeps honing in on that bulge you’d seen. You’ve heard tales before of Haechan. He’s a little bit of a manwhore at times, slept with plenty of girls you’ve been friends with, so you’ve got some awareness of what he’s like. You’ve got a mental image painted by a very descriptive sex-positive friend of yours majoring in the liberal arts. She has an emphasis in painting and poetry, both of which she has created for almost all of her partners including Haechan. 

So you have a somewhat specific idea of what his dick may look like, and a more general idea of what kind of skills he might possess, and neither of those things are what you need right now when you’re desperately horny and stuck in a house with all of your friends and zero privacy. 

But they are all sleeping, right? Karina and Winter had turned in rather early, so they’re probably deep into REM sleep, so if you just quietly come into the room, maybe you can try to quietly rub one out before sleep. Or you could try to sneak into the shower. It would be nice and warm in there, private too.

Before you can make a decision, you hear the squeak of a floorboard, and the soft sound of bare feet on the floor. You turn your head so you can see who it is. 

Haechan. 

His eyes land on you, a glimmer of surprise and then his face lights up.

“Are you just gonna sleep out here?” He teases. “You know the King bed upstairs is still open if it’s the idea of rooming with Karina and Winter that has you scared to sleep in there.” 

You have nothing against those two. They’re nice and friendly, but you’re not terribly close with them, and when you’d placed your bag on the bottom bunk the previous evening upon your arrival, they’d exchanged looks that made you feel like they’d rather share the room themselves without your presence. Last night had been fine, and it’s not the reason you’re lingering out here at all. 

Haechan looks at you, like really looks at you, and suddenly you remember that you’re still in just your bralette and panties, still clinging wetly and semi-transparently to you. All of you is exposed in that moment. A blush rises hotly to your cheeks as you rock up to your feet. You press your clothes close to your chest again.

“Why is no one sleeping up there?” You ask, glancing at the set of stairs that leads up to the only King bed in the cabin. 

“A few of us played for it last night. Winner got the single room.” He grins, and proudly tells you. “I won. But I’m not tired yet, so you’re definitely welcome to sleep up there if you want.”

Your heart stutters briefly in your chest. “And what about when you do get tired? Where are you gonna sleep then?” 

He shrugs. “That’s a problem for then. I’m gonna head back outside. Fire’s still going so someone should probably keep an eye on it.”

Haechan reaches for the doorknob of the door, and right as it turns in his hand, the words leap out of you: “When you get tired, Haechan….” He turns to look at you, and his eyes are gentle and deep, and you forget your words for a moment. “Uh, well… it’s a big bed. I'm happy to share.”

You’re definitely a little bit in love with the way he smiles then. This slow smile, surprised and leaning a little bit towards a smirk. His eyes sweep over you quickly, from your bare toes curling on the floor up to your face which feels hot right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Haechan says, and then he’s gone, stepping out into the night. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s from the cool breeze that snuck inside or if it’s just a chill running down your spine at your own boldness in inviting Haechan to join you in bed. Maybe not necessarily in the way that you want him, but certainly in more of a way than you’ve had him before. 

Almost as soon as the back door clicks shut again, you’re off, hurrying up the stairs and taking the turn to the King bedroom. The other doors up here are closed, and when you step inside this room, immediately you’re assaulted with the smell of Haechan’s favored fragrance. You’ve asked him before what it is, but you never remember. All you know is that this room now smells like him. 

You close the door behind you, and you don’t even bother to turn on the lights. This room is situated on the corner of the house, and with windows on two of the walls, you’re provided just enough light to see by. The flickering of the firelight barely comes through the window to your left, and the window right ahead of you is filled with the glow of the lights strung through the pergola over the hot tub. 

The bed is still unmade from when Haechan left it this morning. His bag is on the desk, several of his clothes flung around. There’s a door slightly ajar that leads to an en-suite bathroom. You should probably shower again after being in the hot tub, but now that you’re this close to the bed you’re not feeling like doing anything more than just crawling into bed and passing out. 

Before you succumb to the lure of sleep, you take a moment to peek out the window facing the lakeshore and the bonfire. You can see the bonfire still going, see the chairs still circled around it as well as the two fancy glamping tents that no one has used yet, except Xiaojun when he took a nap earlier. 

But you don’t see Haechan. 

You scan the shadows, wondering if you’ve somehow overlooked him. 

And then you notice a shadow stretching across the deck beneath you. A long shadow originating from the corner of the house, just out of sight. It’s definitely a man-shaped shadow, the lights over the hot tub cast the shadow diagonally backwards across the deck until it fades in the light coming from the back door. You notice the shadow isn’t moving, and you’re curious as to why. 

You just barely manage to not stub your toe or trip over anything as you move across to the other window, the one looking down just around the corner of the house. 

A quiet gasp leaves your mouth as you look down at the hot tub below. 

Assuming that it’s Haechan’s stationary shadow at the corner of the house, you can understand why he might be frozen right there. 

Shotaro and his girlfriend are having sex in the hot tub. She’s riding him, his hands all over her body as she moves on top of him. You’re sure if the window was open even a little bit you might be able to hear them. 

Is Haechan down there just watching them? Like a pervert?

That’s gross….

… But you also kind of like it. 

Your mind gets absorbed into a fantasy, imagining him standing there touching himself while he watches his friend fuck the girl Haechan wishes he was fucking. Haechan the voyeur, the pervert, masturbating while watching two of his friends fuck. 

Thinking of that just sends you farther down the path, and you step away from the window, sliding into the bed without delay. 

The sheets definitely smell like Haechan. You slide into the spot where the sheets look most rumpled, rest your head on the pillow that looks slept upon. You bury your nose in the fabric and breathe in, wrapped entirely in that scent that reminds you so much of Haechan. 

Your mind still swirls with the fantasy of him down there touching himself, the images in your mind turn to just Haechan stroking his cock, maybe a scenario where he’d found you alone in the hot tub, touching yourself and he stands beside the tub, jerking off while you make yourself cum on your fingers.

You can’t help yourself when you slide your fingers down your body, dipping them inside your damp panties to touch yourself while you breathe in Haechan, while you let the scent intoxicate you and build your fantasy, although your mind can’t settle on just one. A fantasy where you’re tangled with him right here in these sheets, one where he comes up to go to bed and finds you with your fingers buried in your cunt and his name a chant on your lips, another where you joined him out at the fire to blow him while the crackling heat of the fire warms your back, and one where you’d dragged him into one of those unused tents out there and let him ride your ass until you can’t fucking move tomorrow. 

You cum on your fingers, making your panties just that much wetter as you drip around your fingers and rut your hips against the bed. Your moan of Haechan’s name is muffled against the pillow as you bite down on it and wish that it was his shoulder you were biting. 

Your body goes so relaxed, boneless after your orgasm. You don’t even pull your fingers away, leaving your hand inside your panties as you breathe and wait for your pounding heart to return to normal. The house is quiet around you, though you swear you hear a moan from outside the window. 

You don’t know what drives you to do it, what filthy part of you thinks it’s okay, but once you regain some mobility in your limbs, you slip your hand from your panties. Your fingers are still wet and slick, and you lift them to wipe them on the pillow case, mingling your scent right there with Haechan’s. You breathe it in, and your heart thrills at the combination, the perfect perfume. 

Just as you’re about to roll over, to slide onto the other side of the bed to leave Haechan’s already slept-in side for him again, the door of the room opens. 

You jump slightly. 

“Sorry, it’s just me.” Haechan apologizes. 

You sink back into the sheets on his side of the bed. He closes the door behind him, and you hear his shuffling footsteps cross the floor. You hear the soft whisper of his sweatshirt being pulled over his head,  a similar sound when a moment later he drops his swim trunks. He steps into the en-suite for a few moments, and when he emerges you can just see the shadowy shape of him moving over to his bag on the desk. He pulls out some sweatpants, slips them on and then crosses back to the other side of the bed. 

“You smell like lake water, bonfire smoke, and chlorine,” you mumble as he slides into the bed. Not that it’s a bad thing that he smells like that because even under it all, you can still catch that definite Haechan-scent. You still wish you could pull yourself closer and bury your nose against him, breathing it all in. 

“I’ll shower in the morning,” Haechan says, his words already half-muffled. “You’re on my side of the bed, by the way.”

He shuffles a little closer, and although this bed is big, you’re still very aware of him when his foot bumps against yours. 

“You’re the one that invited me. Guess you should’ve been more specific about where you wanted me.” You flip over onto your side to face him. His eyes gleam slightly in the dim light still coming in from the lights over the hot tub. 

“Next time I’ll make it clear where I want you,” Haechan says. 

You don’t know what exactly he means by that, but you’ll take it as a promise that there will be a next time for you to end up in his bed. 

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

Xiaojun asks it so casually that you almost don’t even hear the question. 

Since the camping trip just two weeks ago, you’ve given in to his desires, slipped back into your old ways. Reentering into your friends-with-benefits sort of situation with him. 

You’re currently in the process of extracting yourself from his bed, dressing yourself as you sit perched on the edge of the bed. You pause what you’re doing to look back over your shoulder at him. 

Xiaojun is reclined among the messy sheets, carefree with his sex hair and his bare chest dotted with hickeys and marks left behind by your fingernails. He’s watching you warily. 

“A date?” You ask. He nods. “Where’s this coming from?”

He shrugs. “I just thought maybe it might be nice to hang out just the two of us without it only meaning sex. Plus there’s that Halloween party tomorrow night. Most of our friends are gonna be there. There’s booze, movies, music. It should be fun.” Seeing the apprehensive look on your face, Xiaojun says, “It doesn’t have to be like a date-date. I just want to have someone there to have fun with, y’know? A date for the party.”

You like Xiaojun. He’s hot, handsome, fun. He’s nice too and he treats his dog like his firstborn child which is kinda endearing, but you’re not really into him like in a romantic sort of way. You’re too hung up on Haechan to allow yourself to truly develop feelings for anyone else. And truthfully, that night during the camping trip when you’d shared Haechan’s bed is part of the reason you’d so eagerly thrown yourself back into Xiaojun’s arms. 

You’d woken late the next morning on the trip still in bed with Haechan. Your nose was buried against that spot on the pillow that smelled like you and like him, and you’d maybe let yourself watch him sleep for a few more minutes until you decided that it was creepy to watch him. So you’d left, fleeing down to the kitchen.

Haechan hadn’t even acknowledged you sharing his bed. He’d only spoken a few words to you for the rest of that day, and then that night you hadn’t dared return to that bed, too worried that you would throw yourself at Haechan and be faced with outright rejection or maybe he would accept your horny advances but that’s all it would be. Just sex, like this with Xiaojun. And you might end up heartbroken. 

So you’d turned to Xiaojun. 

Maybe he’s exactly the distraction you need. 

“Do we have to wear costumes?” You weren’t planning to do anything like that this year, and with Halloween only a day away, your choices are probably pretty slim. 

“Please?” He wheedles, giving you a sweet smile. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The following night, you’re walking arm-in-arm with Xiaojun across the long lawn in front of one of the nicer buildings on campus. The air is rather nippy, so you wish you’d dressed warmer considering this party is outdoors, but at least there are the large bonfires to put off a bit of heat. And Xiaojun is kind and considerate and keeps you close to his side with a jacket draped over your shoulders. 

The jacket kinda ruins your costume but you don’t really care. You came dressed in contrast to Xiaojun’s devilish costume, so you’re an angel tonight, wearing just a short white dress, white shoes, a hastily made halo, and enough sparkly highlighter on your face and collarbones that you seem to glow when any amount of light touches your skin. 

You wander around with Xiaojun for a while, just chatting and strolling around the bonfires, stopping to grab drinks, even briefly dancing together where there’s a DJ. Eventually you find a small cluster of your friends – Renjun, Jisung, YangYang – but you visit with them only briefly before moving on. 

You want some excitement tonight, and you know that Xiaojun had invited you on this not-date with a promise of seeing each other in a non-sexual way. But you want sex. That’s your favorite thing to do with Xiaojun.

So once you’ve led him away from your friends, you pull him around the side of the building that presides over this long lawn where the party is being held. Everyone is too focused on the party being held in front of the building to notice the couple sneaking around the side, so you pull Xiaojun against you as you lean back against the wall, dragging his mouth down against yours for a kiss.

He falls into that easily enough, succumbing to your kiss instantly. But you don’t want just a kiss. You want more.

Xiaojun moans softly when you curl your fingers around his wrist, when you pull his hand to your thigh. You lift the short skirt of your angelic white dress, and you guide his hand higher until his fingers find the soft warmth of your panties. 

“Been thinking about your fingers, Xiaojun.” You press the words against his lips between kisses, begging a little when you say, “Need to feel your fingers inside me. Now.”

“Now?” He repeats, pulling his mouth away. “Here?”

You hum, nodding your head, using your fingers against his to massage them against your clit. Xiaojun just watches you, a curious look on his face when he asks, “Won’t we get in trouble if anyone catches us?

“No, Xiaojun, it’s kinda hot, right?” You tug him forward by the lapels of his jacket. “Please?”

“But what if someone sees?” He looks around, peeking right around the corner to the steps up into the building not so far away at all. Currently there are a few people clustered around the base of the stairs, chatting over their drinks, their laughter loud enough to mask any sounds you might make. They’re so close by, and that thrills you.

You want to know what it feels like to have sex somewhere that you might be caught, somewhere that someone might be able to watch. 

Xiaojun still looks hesitant.

“Look,” you sigh, patting his shoulder lightly. “We don’t have to if you really don’t want to. I just thought it might be something fun and different.”

The way Xiaojun looks at you then tells you a lot without him even having to say any words aloud. He thought tonight might be fun and different too, different than you just wanting to fuck him.

But you’re feeling the urge to do something slightly dangerous tonight, and maybe it’s because ever since that night at the cabin about two weeks ago, all you’ve been thinking about has been the way that Haechan stood down there on the deck, peeking around the corner at Shotaro and his girlfriend. And you’ve wanted someone to watch you. Of course, a part of you kinda wishes it would be Haechan, but when you’ve actually thought about it over the recent days, you’ve realized you really like the idea of anyone watching you.

Maybe you’re an exhibitionist. It’s a new thing that has never occurred to you before, but lately it’s all you’ve been thinking about.

“I can’t.” Xiaojun shakes his head and takes a step back. “I have some… different things that I’m into, but I just can’t get into this. Public stuff is not a thing for me.”

That’s your cue to ask him what is a thing for him? What sorts of different kinks is Xiaojun into?

But you don’t ask because you realize in that moment that you don’t care. This is why you’d ended your friends with benefits relationship the first time around. The sex was generally good and fun, but there were some differences in what you wanted to try out even that first time around. You’d forgotten that.

“It’s fine, Xiaojun. You can leave.” Your words are maybe a little too cold and dismissive, but Xiaojun doesn’t react in any way other than simply walking away, leaving you there around the dark corner of the building. 

You sigh and press your shoulders back against the stone. It’s still slightly warm from the sunlight earlier, though the night air is still sharp against your exposed skin. You don’t care that you’re alone. Maybe you’ll just stand right here and get yourself off. Your clit is swollen, pussy throbbing with need, so all it takes is just that thought that you could get yourself off right here, and your hand is already drifting in that direction.

Your skirt is hiked up around your hips now, and your fingers visibly disappear down the front of your panties. You don’t care what you look like right now with your head tipped back against the wall, the motion of your arm and fingers making it very obvious what you’re doing if anyone were to look this way. You’re playing with your clit, dipping your fingers back to your slit to gather up your wetness, slicking your fingers between the folds and just teasing yourself.

The thin strap of your dress slips down over the curve of your right shoulder. You rock your hips forward against the slide of your fingers.

You’ve never done anything like this before. The closest you’ve gotten was masturbating at your apartment when your bed was in front of the window, but your window didn’t face any neighbors, just a solid, windowless wall of the building next door. Tonight you’re horny and feeling risky and adventurous. Thus, the semi-public masturbation.

Just around the corner, you can hear people talking and laughing. 

You lift your free hand to your chest, palming the curve of your breast, and with the other hand, you finally give your pussy what she really wants. If you can’t have Xiaojun’s fingers, you’ll certainly settle for your own.

There’s not a free hand left to cover your mouth to hide your gasps and small whimpers of pleasure. You bite your lip, but that only works so well as you finger yourself and imagine that it was someone else, or imagine that someone is hiding in those bushes a few feet away watching you, touching himself as he watches you edge yourself closer and closer to orgasm.

That thought makes your pussy pulse hungrily, your breath coming out sharply. You want to pull your dress down, bare your tits so you can touch them properly. You wish Xiaojun hadn’t left you because you would get him down on the ground right now so you could ride him, feel the night air on your skin under the not-so-distant glow of the nearest bonfire. So you do squat down right there beside the building, spreading your legs a bit so you can get a better angle with your fingers buried in your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you moan under your breath. Your ankles wobble, and you lose your balance, flopping down onto your ass, your shoulders come to rest against the wall, but you don’t stop what you’re doing. 

You don’t stop until you feel your orgasm mounting, you don’t stop until it is coursing through you, your head tipped back against the wall, heart pounding, pleasure curling your toes and flushing your skin with sweet heat to combat the night’s chill. 

You gasp then sigh, catching your breath as you slide your fingers out of your panties. You wipe your hand on the grass, drag your dress back down to cover you, and you take a moment to just come back to yourself. You can feel the heat settling under your skin, your panties sticking wet against your pussy lips. Exhilaration at having just done that makes it all the more enjoyable. 

You liked that a lot. 

Getting off in public. 

A branch cracks underfoot nearby, and you look up. 

A police officer is walking across the lawn from the closest bonfire, making for you. He freezes when you get to your feet, then he takes a few wary steps closer. 

When he’s close enough, you realize who the officer is. 

“Haechan?”

He pulls a cocky grin onto his face. “Yes, angel?”

You flutter your hands over your dress, making sure it’s all properly pulled back into place. 

Haechan cocks his head a little to the side. “What’re you doing way over here? By yourself?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Just needed a moment to breathe.”

“Are you alright?” The look of amusement on his face fades, replaced with one of concern. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” Truly, you’re more than fine after an orgasm like that. “Xiaojun asked me to come with him tonight and I think he’s thinking of this more as a date than just us casually hanging out. I needed a little space from him.”

Haechan watches you, his gaze running over your face and your posture, and you feel like he’s picking you apart, but you’re not exactly sure what it is that he’s seeing. After a moment he just looks away, back over his shoulder to scan the lawn. When his gaze returns to you, he’s back to wearing his cocky expression, “Well, I’m looking for a naughty schoolgirl. Have you seen one come by here?” 

Not recently, but you saw one earlier tonight. You vaguely recognized her as a friend of Mark’s. She’d come around the group a few times, but she wasn’t a regular. 

“Why are you looking for her?” You ask. 

Haechan just grins. “Oh, you know how naughty schoolgirls are. I’m just doing my job as a truancy officer, looking for her to punish her.”

You roll your eyes and walk around him, making it only a few steps back towards the light of the front of the building when Haechan’s hand closes around your wrist. 

“What were you doing over there, little angel? Your ass is covered in dirt.” He laughs, and you halfway twist around to look down. Sure enough, the butt of your white dress has dirt on it, but you can’t really reach it very well. Haechan offers, “Do you want some help?”

The moment that his hand touches your ass, patting to remove the dirt which puffs away in small clouds, you feel your core reignite with hunger. Haechan’s hand comes down again, a light pat that you wish was a bit harder, though at the same time, you’re grateful it’s not any harder or else you would probably moan aloud. As it is, your face feels very warm when Haechan finally takes a step around you.

“There,” he says proudly, “All better. But your halo is a little crooked too.”

He reaches up, readjusting your halo. You take the moment to look at him, to stare at his handsome face, so light with amusement right now. And then he lays a hand on top of your head, right beneath the halo, and his gaze lowers to yours. 

“You make a good angel. Perfect and innocent as you are.” Haechan smiles, a real soft smile. 

“I’m not innocent,” you immediately shoot back. 

He shrugs a little. His fingers pet your hair a bit before he removes his hand. “Well you’re certainly no naughty devil. I’ve never heard any wild stories about you, which makes you an innocent angel in my eyes.”

You frown. 

Haechan just smiles, then says, “Well, I have a naughty schoolgirl to look for, if you’ll excuse me.” He walks away without another look back, and you decide that you’re done for the night. You’re done with this party. You’re probably done with Xiaojun, honestly. And you definitely don’t want to hang around and find out if Haechan is going to find his naughty schoolgirl.

You take the winter break to give yourself the opportunity to put some distance between you and Xiaojun, and some distance between you and your useless crush on Haechan. Most of your friends leave campus for the break, but you hang around to work and get a little bit of a head start on the new semester. It’s your final semester, so in a few months you and most of your friends will be graduating. 

You also take the winter break to explore that side of you that you’d started to see during October. The exhibitionist side. 

You start small at first. 

Going out with no panties, no bra just for the impropriety of it. 

You test the waters by touching yourself while you drive back to your apartment from the grocery one day. You build yourself up very, very slowly. Scared of getting caught, but also thrilled with the idea of someone seeing what you’re doing and maybe them getting turned on too. 

As soon as the semester resumes, you begin taking your exhibitionist thrills onto campus itself. No panties and a short skirt while you’re sitting in class or in the library, legs spread just enough that the students or even a professor could see. You rub one out in the restroom between classes a few times, and you’re almost certain that you were found out at least a couple times by others using the restroom when a moan or other such sound escapes you.

As your last semester begins to tick by, you finally begin taking more risks. Such as a picnic in the park with a guy you’d met online who seemed interested in hooking up and doing it in public. He’d fingered you while he fed you cut up fruits with the other hand, which was really more of an excuse to let you suck on his fingers to keep quiet. Just a one-off because, although you liked the experience, there was something lacking with the guy. 

So you’d tried again with another – a guy that actually did see up your skirt while you were studying late one night at the library, and as soon as you noticed him keep sneaking glances, you decided to tease him. One hand slid down to tease yourself, and when he caught you watching him watching you, you’d silently invited him to join you for a quick fuck in the nearest restroom. Again, the experience was fun, but there was something missing about him.

And then one night you’re over at the rented house of several of your friends. It’s midterms, so everyone’s trying to study together for various classes, or at least trying to drink away the stress. Jeno and Haechan are studying for their Econ exam in the kitchen, taking up the majority of the space although there’s still just enough room for YangYang and Renjun to make a mess in trying to be chefs and bartenders for the rest of you. 

You know that YangYang has already given up on studying for any of his midterms. Renjun already knows that he’s well-prepared. They’re just trying to make sure everyone else is having a good time. Mark, Shotaro, Jaemin, and a few of the girls are in the living room attempting to study with you, but you’re on the verge of giving up for the night. You have a bit of a buzz going on from the boozy drinks that YangYang keeps passing around, and you have a full belly from the snacks Renjun keeps making.

“Should we watch a movie instead or something?” Renjun suggests when Jaemin also complains about being bored with studying.

“Maybe we should all just go to bed.” Jaemin frowns a little as he says it, casting a look first towards his bedroom down the hallway, and then looking towards the kitchen where Haechan and Jeno have just loudly begun bickering over some Econ lesson. 

Shotaro’s girlfriend leans her head on his shoulder. “I agree. I’m tired, and I have a project due early in the morning tomorrow.”

“I told you not to take such an early morning class,” Shotaro teases, slipping his arm tight around her shoulders. He puts on a cutesy tone as he asks her, “Do you want to leave, baby? Should we go?” 

Gross, you think. And then you almost laugh.

You’re grossed out by their cutesy, romantic display of affection in public, and yet you’re the one with actual exhibitionist tendencies. 

Jaemin disappears to bed. Shotaro and his girlfriend leave. Everyone else in the room gives up on studying to instead settle in and watch a movie. You look towards the kitchen again as you settle in comfortably between Renjun and YangYang on the sofa, lights off, movie on. Jeno and Haechan aren’t paying any attention to the rest of you; they’re still in the other room diligently studying, and you can’t help watching Haechan.

He’s clearly frustrated. The glasses he's wearing keep sliding down his nose, his hair is ruffled from him running his fingers through it. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbow. He’s wearing loose basketball shorts, and he has one foot resting on his chair with his knee bent up which has caused the leg of the shorts to bunch up, revealing so many inches of beautiful bare thigh. 

You’ve been trying so hard to get over this crush you have on him, but right now you’re epically failing. All you can imagine is sitting on the floor beneath that table, licking and biting at his thighs, pulling his dick out of the shorts to suck him off while he continues studying. Give him a reward for behaving so studiously. 

“Hey.”

A finger pokes your cheek.

You return to reality, and the fantasy of having Haechan’s cock in your mouth fades away. Renjun smiles at you. 

“You’re not even watching the movie right now. Is Haechan really that much more interesting?” His voice is just a whisper, but it’s still loud enough that you feel a minor surge of panic. You glance around making sure that none of your other friends have heard, that Haechan couldn’t have possibly heard even though he’s all the way over there in the kitchen. Renjun laughs again, leaning closer until his lips are right against your ear. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“What secret?” You play dumb, and Renjun just rolls his eyes. “Really, Renjun. What secret? I was just staring because, well, if I’m being honest –” Which, for the record, you’re not being honest. “ — their talking is distracting me.” 

Renjun cocks an eyebrow and looks back over towards the kitchen where Jeno and Haechan are sitting in silence, poring over textbooks and notebooks and Jeno’s iPad screen. The only sound coming from them is the scratching of pens on paper. 

You sigh, momentarily letting your gaze wander to Haechan’s thighs as he now brings his other leg up. The shorts on that side also slide down so both of his bare golden thighs are on clear display. Maybe you let out another day-dreamy sigh.

Renjun looks back over at you, a quick up and down. He looks like he doesn’t entirely buy your story. He snorts, “Why don’t you just admit it?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, but you refuse to admit to him that you have a crush or whatever on Haechan. Not happening. 

“I’d have to be blind to miss that horny gleam in your eye,” Renjun whispers. 

The call-out feels like a wallop to your chest. You actually flinch, struggling to find the words until you eventually mumble, “It’s just been a while, okay? I’m… lonely, Renjun.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” Renjun promises.

On your other side, YangYang loudly laughs at something that happens on the screen, and you realize there’s no way that he’s paying even the slightest attention to the conversation you and Renjun are having. There’s no way that he notices as you shift yourself a little bit closer to Renjun, and Renjun doesn’t even comment on the way that you reduced the inches of space between you to now just a few centimeters. He turns his attention back to the movie without another word about you staring at Haechan or you confessing to him that you’re lonely. 

You try to watch the movie too. You try to forget Haechan with his beautiful thighs sitting right over there in the kitchen, try to forget the way that in the brief fantasy you’d allowed yourself, you’d somehow made yourself very horny. You try so hard to suppress that horniness, and it works for a little while as you get sucked into the movie.

But then a sex scene comes on. 

The atmosphere in the room changes slightly. 

You shift a little – bunching your hands up in the blanket that covers your lap, you move your legs, shift your weight trying to get a little more comfortable.

Renjun’s hand lands on your thigh. “Settle down,” he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. 

You look over at him. The way he’s not even looking at you, but still watching the scene playing out on the screen. Then your gaze slides down his arm to the place where his hand disappears beneath your blanket, to the lump beneath the blanket that is his hand on your thigh. Renjun seems to notice your gaze suddenly, and he begins to remove his hand.

His head snaps around towards you the moment that your hand covers his, keeping his palm flat against your thigh. You make eye contact, and his lips part slightly. His eyes dip down to your lap before sweeping around the room to make sure that no one is looking, and then his eyes settle on your face. 

You nod, squeeze his hand.

YangYang sits just half a foot away from you on your left side. Blissfully unaware as Renjun’s hand begins inching up your thigh, as his fingers trace along the center seam of the athletic shorts you’d worn over here tonight. On the small loveseat perpendicular to your sofa, Mark and one of the other girls sit entirely oblivious even when Renjun lets out a tiny gasp of surprise when his fingers dip inside your shorts and find that you’d foregone panties tonight. The other two girls are stretched out on their bellies on the floor, and they don’t have any clue that you spread your legs a little wider, casually draping one over Renjun’s leg to open yourself up for him to touch you in the presence of all of your gathered friends.

You can’t believe Renjun is doing this. Yeah, you’ve heard a couple stories about him, but nothing like this. Just a few tales about him, but none of the handful of stories had mentioned him having any interest in anything like this.

His eyes shine in the light coming from the screen when you reach a hand of reciprocation over into his lap. Unlike you, Renjun is wearing underwear, but that doesn’t get in your way too much. Soon you have him in your hand, and he’s circling his fingers at your clit. 

You both touch each other, taking it slow and building up that tension and heat. You want to keep it unnoticeable, but also you feel a zing of excitement when you think about YangYang beside you or your friends on the floor or the other sofa. Of course, it’s when you think about Haechan looking over from the kitchen that your body buzzes a little more extremely. You imagine him looking this way and seeing the way that you’re leaning your head on Renjun’s shoulder now, staring at the movie playing on the screen without really seeing it; him noticing Renjun’s hand disappearing beneath your blanket, noticing your leg draped over Renjun’s, noticing the way that you’re both moving your arms slightly, both a little flushed in the face, lips parted and eyes glazed.

It’s that thought of Haechan looking over, seeing everything and knowing what you’re doing, him getting hard and watching because he’s a pervert like that. That is what makes you cum around Renjun’s fingers. Your thighs snap shut around his hand, and it’s only by nearly biting through your lip and through sheer will that you keep from moaning.

Renjun keeps his fingers moving, stroking that soft spot inside you that makes your belly tingle even more. You can feel the way that your pussy is dripping around his fingers, and as soon as your thighs relax around his hand, Renjun slides his hand out of your pants, out from beneath the blanket.

His fingers shine with your wetness, and when he pulls his fingers apart, you can see your stickiness there. And then Renjun brings his fingers up to his lips. He makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his fingers, then as he stuffs them into his mouth to clean them up. You’ve halfway forgotten that you’re meant to be jerking him off as well, but his free hand drops down to cover yours on his cock, getting your hand moving again while he sucks the taste of you from his fingers.

And just like that, Renjun cums too. You can only just barely hear the sound of a slight groan escaping from around his fingers. His cum pulses sticky and warm over your hand, dripping down your fingers, slicking your palm as you smear it around his leaking tip. 

Your hand is still around his cock when you lift your head from Renjun’s shoulder to touch your lips to his ear so you can whisper, “Next time, I want to ride you. Okay? Right here, like this.”

Renjun visibly swallows, his throat bobbing. “I don’t know about that.”

He reaches down, pulling your hand away from his cock, out from beneath the blanket. He doesn’t look at you, and it’s not like you really have feelings for Renjun or that you’re super attracted to him, but his rejection still stings a bit. He quickly stuffs his cock back into his pants, stands up, and heads upstairs. 

Renjun doesn’t come back.

You wipe your hand clean on the back of the little throw pillow tucked on your end of the sofa. You lay down over Renjun’s abandoned spot, stretch your feet out into YangYang’s lap, which makes him frown over at you slightly. He doesn’t move your feet though, so you lay your head on the throw pillow that you just wiped Renjun’s cum on the back of, and you watch the movie.

The two girls on the floor say that they’ve got to leave when that movie ends. Mark puts on the sequel to the movie you’d just watched. Still Renjun doesn’t return. Still Haechan and Jeno study in the kitchen, conversing in low voices. Halfway through that movie, the girl sitting with Mark falls asleep, and when he carefully lifts her into his arms to carry her upstairs to his bedroom, you remember that they started officially dating recently. 

YangYang moves over to the empty loveseat now that it’s empty, giving you the entire sofa to stretch out on. You fall asleep before this movie even ends, replaying the fun with Renjun, but wishing too that someday you’ll be able to sit on the sofa surrounded by friends with someone’s cock buried inside you, all of your friends none the wiser. 

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a/n: she's a little bit of an experimenting exhibitionist lol, just as much a pervert as Haechan honestly, though I don't think she realizes it yet. As I said a while back when I was posting about my writing process with this series, this is definitely a slowburn that gets there eventually, like obviously if she's trying to start something with xiaojun and then with renjun it might take a minute for that burn to really get going between her and haechan, but hang in there for the ride! I hope you enjoy it!

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well, Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

CW: Mention of suicide. Ya'll know her technique.

The Tokyo Jujutsu High library was a large building nestled in the center of campus. The building itself was as old as the school, having been one of the first constructed on the school grounds. Hundreds of books and scrolls were displayed on rows and rows of shelving, with even more material stored away. Students could find information on any type of curse or technique as long as they had clearance. The more secretive and banned scrolls, including the seals Miho used, were kept in a separate area.

Miho usually cleaned and reorganized the shelves. She did this at least two times a day. The library had never been so clean before she started working there. The acting librarian, a short elderly woman named Miyoko, was shuffling paperwork about on her desk.

Twelve PM came and went. Miho checked the time on her phone. Everyday for about two weeks, Satoru had come to pick her up for lunch with his gaggle of friends. It was like clockwork. Miyoko always had to hush them with a shaky finger to her lips.

I didn't even know we had a library, Satoru admitted the first day they came.

That's because you have to be able to read to use it, Nanami had muttered.

She had recognized Kento Nanami the first time they had come to have lunch with her. He was quiet and shy, like her, and often came to study on his own. They hadn't spoke much, but she appreciated his company while she completed her own studies. Having both Shoko and Nanami there helped ease her anxiety about hanging around Satoru, Suguru, and their other friend, a boy named Yu Haibara. Even though she was too afraid to speak the first few days, eventually Miho found herself looking forward to the noon lunch hour.

This time, however, Satoru came alone.

It was fifteen after when he walked in, hands in his pockets. A toothy grin broke out across his face when he saw her poke her head out from behind the bookshelf. How he was able to see with his sunglasses on in the dim room was beyond her.

"Ready to go?" he asked. Miho nodded, grabbing her tote bag from the front desk.

"I'll be back, Miss!" she said, bowing her head before joining him near the door.

"See you after lunch, Grandma!" Satoru said, waving to the librarian. She chuckled and waved back.

"Where is everyone?" Miho asked, glancing around. It felt strange walking next to him without the others. She realized just how much taller he was, almost a head taller than her.

"Missions," he groaned, "I got left out. How is that even fair?"

It was weird that he didn't text her first. If she had learned one thing about Satoru in the two weeks of hanging out with him, it was that he texted everything. Every thought he had throughout the day, anytime plans changed, about the weather. He had even called her a few times for things he could have texted.

Even stranger, he was uncharacteristically quiet. She didn't believe there was a quiet bone in his body. Yet there he was, walking next to her silently.

Satoru had picked a spot on the roof of a building overlooking the training courtyard. The wind up there was stronger than she expected. She was glad she wore her tights that day. She said his name once, handing him a bento from her tote, but he was staring off into the distance.

"Satoru," Miho said.

He blinked, looking at the outstretched box. It was in a blue plastic bento in the shape of a bear. She always packed an extra because he usually forgot to bring one. Satoru grabbed the bento from her with unusually calm energy. He was eerily quiet while they ate. What may have been normal lapses in conversation for some people was agonizing silence for her.

Miho adjusted her skirt, pulling it further down her legs before stuffing her empty bento in her tote bag.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Satoru?"

Satoru took off his sunglasses, fiddling with the lenses while he watched the field.

"The Simple Seal," he pondered, "I wonder how strong it really is."

Down below, the first years were walking out to train. Miho watched them silently.

"Do you think it's stronger than Limitless?" he asked.

She snorted. "Of course not. I'd have to seal you with my Domain."

"Would you? Kill yourself to seal me, if administration told you to?"

"Where did this come from?" Miho asked, alarmed.

When she looked at him, he was watching her with glowing eyes. Was he reading her cursed energy? Looking at her technique? She didn't fully understand the extent of the Six Eyes. But the way he watched her so closely made her heart flutter. His eyes darted around her face, flickering from her eyes to her mouth. Finally he looked away.

"They're only using us, you know," he said, his voice unusually sharp, "Like weapons. That's why they hit you when you don't behave."

She knew who 'they' were. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

"...I know," Miho said quietly.

"And they'll keep using us. Even against each other," Satoru said.

The two sat in silence for some time. He was always so bubbly and lively, and yet sitting just inches from him she could feel the tension roll off him in waves. He felt like a rubber band stretched too tightly, ready to snap in half at the slightest pressure.

"One day, I'll die using my domain. That's my destiny," Miho said.

He looked over at her.

"I'm glad we met, Satoru. Because when the time comes, at least now I'll be doing it for my friends."

She smiled at him. Satoru's eyes widened and he stared at her, unable to look away. The tension from his shoulders melted away. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck to disguise the flush that reddened his cheeks.

"I think you could seal Limitless. But you'd have to catch me first," he said suddenly, his tone much lighter.

"Is that a challenge?" she asked. His smile dispersed the heavy tension in the air.

"You need some actual training, first. Right now you couldn't catch a fly."

"I could seal you if you weren't using your technique!"

"That doesn't count-"

Laughter filled the air as she tried to grab his arm over and over. He disappeared and was behind her instantly, switching to the other side when she tried again. Miho didn't noticed in her fits of laughter because Satoru was just naturally flirtatious, but he was watching her a little more carefully now.

--

When the lunch hour was over, he gently took her by the waist and jumped down from the building. Miho instinctively grabbed his shoulders as they floated down. He slowed their descent just a fraction so he could keep holding her. His hands lingered on her waist longer than they normally would have, but she was already pulling away to walk side by side with him.

Satoru grinned, slipping his sunglasses back on. Sometimes it was easier to hide his face that way.

[pryntery-moved]

please give us the roommate au lore

Hehehheheheeeh gladly

The Roommates au takes place 2-3 years after P5R! So everyone is in college except for Futaba and Sumire, who are high school seniors.

This is in no way a serious au, it's just all fun, goofy, and unhinged stuff.

I'll break it down based on the room assignments

The Yongen Jaya Residents | Akiren, Akechi, Morgana

They live in a 2-bedroom apartment near Leblanc!

Akiren moves back to Tokyo for college. I'm not sure what he's studying... I'm open for input on that. He decided to live off-campus so he could bring Mona with him. Don't judge him, he has a lot of 7 am classes he needs his alarm.

Akechi went MIA, under the radar, etc after the events of P5R and is now back under a fake name! Let's pretend it's all Pubsec's doing. He still works as a detective, he just gave up the whole "detective prince" thing. He's also in college, but not in the same university as Akiren. He goes by the alias Robbie H.

Shibuya The Ueno Park Pals | Haru, Makoto, Yusuke, Matthew

I wrote Shibuya in the chart but retconned it to Ueno after some research

They live in a big apartment near Yusuke's campus! Either it's Haru's late father's property, or Haru handles most of the rent.

Haru! She's still the same as ever! Working for the company, getting her degree, whilst opening her cafe! Our girl is hustling!

Makoto... Due to my disdain towards the police, I'll say that she quit the police academy and transferred to a university. The dark recesses of my brain are telling me she's studying PolSci or law

Yusuke is still Yusuke. He just goes to art school now.

They became roommates when Haru went to Yusuke's dorm to pick up a painting she commissioned for the cafe and ended up dragging him back to the apartment like a stray kitten.

Haru unintentionally started a business selling Yusuke's old paintings he hates. To make room for more canvases he'd give them to Haru to use as firewood but Haru simply couldn't destroy them.

No one knows where Matthew came from. The working theory is that lobsters live in the sewers in rich neighborhoods.

Makoto is the mom! She keeps everyone in check and makes sure everyone does their chores.

Author's note: They eat up my brain the most bc their living situation is closest to mine! I'm an art student & my roommate is a painter. I like to joke that we're both Yusuke.

French | Ann

Ann mentioned wanting to go abroad at the end of P5R, I only placed her in France because Model + That's where my friend is studying! I don't know what she's studying though.

A few things that came to mind for me are: Business, Psychology, Liberal arts, and Fashion

She lives in an apartment with a photography student named Erica

I like to think she sends the PT's the weirdest most unhinged photos of Paris. Like the fat rats in front of the Eiffel tower or sculptures at the louvre purposely taken in the wrong angles to tease Yusuke.

Nagoya? | Ryuji

I don't actually know where he is, I just said Nagoya because that's where my friend studies.

I don't know if he's going to college if he's taking a gap year, or something else. I like to think he's in college & joined his university's track team. I don't know what he's studying though.

I like to think he's started getting back into running!

Goes back home a lot to visit his mom! Would crash at Akiren's place to hang out when he does. He always comes without Akechi knowing and Akechi hates it

If you know Omori, I like to think Ryuji's like the Kel of the group. He somehow keeps everyone in touch!

The Shujin Seniors | Futaba, Sumire

Sumire approached Futaba at first to get help with her studies (balancing gymnastics and high school isn't easy) and they quickly became close!

They hang out a lot outside of school. It's like, they somehow complement each other so they end up having fun trying new things together?

Futaba teaches Sumire Gen-Z lingo.

They hang out at Akiren and Akechi's apartment sometimes to slack off from studying.

The only serious/angsty thing in this au that I can think about is Akiren's relationship with Akechi. Akechi just pops back into his life so Akiren would have some... Thoughts.

If this were a spin-off slice-of-life/sitcom anime I'd like to imagine Akiren and Akechi having a deep conversation about life on the balcony, both overcome with their strong feelings from one another, anger? Yearning? Who knows. And then it cuts to Haru, Yusuke, and Makoto, trying and failing miserably at catching a rodent that broke into their apartment. Some wacky, Community-Esque hijinks ensue.

So yeah that's the roommates au, sorry for making it long,,

[corner-stories]

ice dancing on his own

Bart Allen. Jesse Chambers. Ice Rinks. Podiums. Himbos With Chiselled Jaws. Figure Skating AU. 3618 words. (ao3.)

A month ago, Bart Allen was perilously performing an ice dance routine at Junior Nationals that would net him and his partner — the immeasurably talented Cissie King-Jones — fourth place and a spot on the podium. Despite his age and his slender frame, he managed to make the act of lifting a seventeen-year-old girl with one arm for three rotations over a slippery surface look utterly effortless. 

At the time the lovers of the sport cheered for the duo of King-Jones & Allen, as it had been the first time they had podiumed at a competition in their junior career. 

But right now, Bart was just trying to get through class.

As per usual, school was a slog. Each moment he spent in the classroom felt wasted. Every few minutes he would find himself glancing at the clock in the corner, only to be disappointed to see that the short hand had barely moved. 

He tapped his foot restlessly against the floor as his English teacher spoke in length about how deep the (something something) in the second act of (something something Shakespeare play) was (something something symbolic) and definitely not a (something something phallus joke). And at the end of it all, everyone was a better person for knowing it. Or something. 

Clearly, the works of Billy Shakes were not Bart’s forte. 

Once the bell rang and Bart was free from the shackles that were the American education system, he was quick to leave the classroom and even quicker to leave the campus. 

Keystone was still chilly this time of year, but the bite of winter did nothing to stop him on his commute. Somehow, he was more patient when waiting for the bus to arrive at his stop, as what awaited him on the other side was something he actually cared about. 

With his headphones placed on his ears Bart placed his music on shuffle, then was immediately brought to a song he hoped to not hear. Listening to the music of his rhythm dance from the current season was the last thing he wanted to do. 

As the first few bars of the song played, his mind quickly recalled the way he and Cissie had tango’d across the rink, proudly performing what could only be described as “Cheetah Girls 2 on Ice.” 

With the memories of Nationals and his partner now in his head, Bart quickly texted Cissie to ask how her ankle was healing up. 

When the bus arrived at his stop, Bart stepped off and practically sped-walk to the rink across the street. Even if he was training sans-partner, he was going to make the use of his rink time no matter what. His coaches would certainly come for him if he didn’t. 

His mind felt like a blizzard of thoughts as he came into the building. 

As he entered the lobby of the Keystone Ice Skating Center, he pondered the apparent “tea” regarding certain Senior skaters at Nationals last month, as the mere implication of figure skaters dating could send the lovers of the sport into a fervent frenzy. He had been told many times to not dig deep into the business of other skaters, but after seeing enough tweets about who was seen hanging out with who at a cafe near the North Metropolis Ice Arena, the rabbit hole began to make him curiouser and curiouser. 

After doing his usual stretches and warm-up, he laced up his skates and made his way to the rink. For now he could work on his step sequences while trying not to think about whether Cissie’s ankle injury would equate to her early retirement, and perhaps his as well. 

He knew it was absurdly selfish to make his good friend’s injury about him, but it was hard not to when his coaches were doing that exact thing. Obviously, ice dance was a sport that required two people, and being partnerless was far from what most people on his level would prefer to be. Having danced with Cissie since they were ten years old didn't help either, as Bart was truly unable to imagine what it was like to compete with someone else.

If the ISU would accept Bart ice dancing on his own, then he would be practicing for his solo debut. But instead he was here, sitting on a bench near the ice rink and wondering if Cissie’s ankle injury would spell the end for the duo that was King-Jones & Allen. 

Sitting on a bench near the ice, Bart checked his phone again and saw a reply from Cissie. In response to his question pertaining to the state of her injured limb, she sent him a photo of what she was doing at the moment. 

Evidently, the wonderful ice dancer that was Suzanne King-Jones was spending her recovery time holed up in her bedroom watching episodes of The Bachelor on her laptop. To give her some sense of comfort during an uncomfortable time, she had permitted herself to consume the foods she would never touch in the middle of the season. 

Judging by the multiple ice cream pints by her computer, one could easily assume that the astounding Suzanne King-Jones was recovering from a rather nasty break-up and not an ankle injury. 

And to think all of this had started because Cissie — of all things — tripped while exiting her mother’s car. Perhaps the weather wizard that created the Keystone City winters were out to get her. 

In response, Bart sent a handful of sympathetic emojis and hoped they would tide her through. 

The rink was sparsely occupied as Bart pulled the guards off his blades. A handful of juvenile level skaters were getting coached, some were practicing on their own, and on the far end were the rink’s pride and joy. 

Tall and slender, Wally West was able to glide across the ice with the grace of a swan soaring under the stars. And he wasn’t alone, as he was joined by the rink’s other golden glider. Lisa Snart was well-versed in the art of making it look easy, as she made skating circles around her rinkmate look like child’s play. 

Unsurprisingly, the fact that both Wally had placed second and Lisa had placed first at Nationals led to their little rink in Keystone gaining an increased amount of media attention. Then again, the fabled Lisa was known for podiuming at every Nationals since her senior level debut, but that's besides the point. 

Bart often imagined that the fancy rinks in Gotham and Metropolis were boiling mad that a skater as decorated as Lisa managed to accomplish her feats while training in a dingy midwest rink. 

As the two champion skaters did their thing on the ice, their coaches watched from the sidelines. Jay Garrick and Max Crandall — the rink’s most famous coach and choreographer duo — kept a close eye on Wally as he showed off, just as they were doing a month before. Additionally, Lisa’s coach — Roscoe Dillon — stood beside them and paid particular attention to the way she would spin on the ice. 

Joining the coaches on the side of the rink was a local news crew, which consisted of one cameraman and one reporter. 

Said cameraman was doing his best to record both of the star skaters. At one moment Wally would be showing off his famous double axel-triple loop combo, then at another Lisa would perform her triple lutz for some extra pizzazz, leaving the press member to frantically pan between both skaters. 

A bothered Bart couldn’t help but watch on with a glare, particularly towards the spinning ginger on the ice. The cocky smirk on Wally’s face was unavoidable. 

Perhaps that was the most frustrating thing about Wally freakin’ West, the fact that for all his ego he was actually as talented as he claimed to be. Even Bart couldn’t deny that Wally landing a quad salchow at Nationals was phenomenally impressive. 

Before Bart could steam in his envy for any longer, another native to the little rink in Keystone walked into his vicinity. Fortunately, he happened to be a lot more fond of this skater than the pair showing off on the ice. 

Jesse Chambers was clad in her usual training gear as she joined Bart on the bench. In her hand was a steaming overpriced oat milk latte and in her eyes was a look that implied she was getting a less-than-ideal amount of sleep. In contrast to the absolute poise she exuded on the ice, her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun and her skates were lazily slung over her shoulder by the laces.

“Enjoying the show?” asked Jesse, then she let out a yawn. 

As if on cue Lisa glided by and seamlessly transitioned into a triple toe loop. Bart swore that he could see her winking smugly towards the skaters on the bench. 

“Kinda,” Bart said, shrugging. 

For a few more moments the two watched Wally and Lisa making their ice center proud, then Bart looked to Jesse with a confused, mildly bewildered eye. 

“Why aren’t you out there?” he asked. “You placed pretty high too.” 

Jesse gave him a knowing look before letting out a sigh. “I know, but name someone who actually gives a shit about sixth place.” 

Bart winced, then tried not to think about it — which of course led him to immediately thinking about it even harder. 

He was no expert in regards to Women’s Singles skating, but a month ago he was in the audience to cheer Jesse and Wally (but mostly Jesse) on during the competition, just as they had done so when it was him on the ice.  

Judging by the way the audience cheered when Jesse landed her double axel-triple lutz combo, he thought that she would at least podium at the end of it all. But perhaps the judges had other things in mind as they chose their winners. At least both Jay and Max held her hands tightly in the kiss and cry as they awaited her scores. 

If it was any consolation, Jesse's performance during the Gala Exhibition reduced the audience to putty in her hands. In contrast to Lisa’s effortless elegance, Jesse absolutely exuded athleticism and intensity on the ice. Her jumps were strong and her spins reminded Bart of a freakin’ jet engine. Once unbound from the restraints that came with the short program and the free skate, Jesse could finally show the world what figure skating meant to her, and for that Bart thought she should be proud. 

“It’s bullshit,” Bart soon said, and he meant every word of it. He gave Jesse a sympathetic gaze. “You skated better than half those girls last month.” 

For a moment Jesse looked at Bart peculiarly, then soon she let out a polite chuckle. 

She looked down smiling, then said, “I envy you.” 

Bart raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because you still think it’s all only about skating.”

Before Bart could think about what she said for any longer, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Upon checking his notifications he found a new message from Cissie, which consisted of a textless picture of her right hand. At the moment, her most expressive finger was raised, a gesture that easily summarized her current post-injury state of mind. 

“How’s Cissie?” asked Jesse, clearly trying to steer the conversation into any other direction. 

Bart wisely hid the picture from her. “She’s coping.”

When he glanced at Jesse again she was taking another sip of her coffee. Her eyes were sympathetic, but not overly so, not enough to make Bart feel like she was pitying him. Deep inside, he appreciated that about her. 

“So… what are you gonna do for the reason of the season?” Jesse asked, genuinely curious.

Bart sighed and ran a hand through his already unruly hair. “I have no fucking clue.” 

He placed his phone onto the bench and finally stood up, opening the door to the ice and stepping onto the slippery surface. The second he began to glide he felt free, but the heavenly sensation did nothing to quell the worry in his heart. He promised himself to not panic at his coaching session today, but now he knew for a fact that his internal vow was a dirty fucking lie. 

“At least I got that Skate Camp to look forward to,” he said, twirling on the ice to face Jesse on the bench. “Two weeks of single twizzles and step sequences, I guess.” 

“The one in Gotham, right?” 

Bart nodded. “Yep.”

There was a beat, then Jesse knit her eyebrows as she began to think. “Hmmmm, maybe Max’s idea will work out after all…” 

Bart blinked, both utterly entranced and confused at her use of ‘Max’ and ‘idea’ in the same sentence. Seeing as Max was currently busy watching Lisa Snart literally skating circles around Wally West, Bart figured that the sleep-deprived skater on the bench in front of him would be the first step to him getting any sort of answer.

“What idea?” asked Bart. 

“He didn’t tell you?” asked Jesse, confused. 

Bart crooked his head to the side as he began to look more and more lost. “Does this look like the face of a guy who has been told a thing?!” 

Jesse blinked, then said — “Okay, so um… for the record this is just an idea, but with that whole thing about Tim stepping back from competition-” 

“TIM’S RETIRING?!?!?!” Bart yelled in a thundering tone. 

Unsurprisingly, his voice echoed in the rink and garnered the attention of everyone in the area, the news crew included. 

As the coaches, skaters, and media briefly glanced at the flabbergasted junior ice dancer with the messy hair, Jesse did her best to keep her cool.

“First of all, he’s not,” she made sure to clarify. “And second of all, did you see his Instagram story?” 

Immediately, Bart skated towards the boards. Instead of opening the doors and stepping off the ice like a normal human being, he instead hopped forward and rested his stomach on top of said boards as he fruitlessly reached for his phone on the bench, haphazardly kicking his legs in the air.

After Jesse handed him his phone, Bart remained on the boards as he unlocked his device and opened the correct app. It took a quick search to dredge up the profile of his close friend, and almost immediately he managed to pull up the fabled Instagram story that apparently explained it all. 

Said story consisted of a photo of an empty Gotham City ice rink and a paragraph of text explaining the scenario. Tim’s prose was gentle as he told the world of his ordeal, that his commitment to ice dance had caused his grades in school to falter, so much so that he was very likely to be held back all together. 

After coming in second at Junior Nationals, he made the very difficult choice to step back from the sport he loved. On top of his schoolwork beginning to pile up, the shoulder injury he had sustained from his silver-medal-winning curve lift had also put his career into a different perspective. Stepping back on a high note felt a lot better than stepping back after a potentially life-changing injury.

At the end of the paragraph, Tim wished the rinkmates he had made over the years luck in the future, and especially gave love to his partner of the last few years. Despite coming off of a silver medal at Nationals, only the gods of ice dance could help Cassandra Cain now. 

“Ohhhhhhh shit!” Bart yelped, staring harder at his phone. He gave Jesse a desperate look. “This was posted like, an hour ago, why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You’re always on your phone! I thought you’d know!” Jesse exclaimed, although at a less audible level than Bart. 

For a few more moments Bart spent time re-opening the Instagram story, reading it again and again as if to get it down by heart. The circumstances of his ice dance career started to feel less and less real every day, and the current news was no exception.

However, the one upside to the chaos was beginning to become more clear to him. If anything, at least Max was a quick thinker.  

It was almost too convenient — two ice dancers in the Junior division were now left without partners due to circumstances outside of their control, and both of whom would presumably be attending the fabled Gotham City Ice Skating Camp in march. It would almost be stupid to not even consider dancing together if both wanted to retain their skating careers. 

Said Gotham skating camp was where Bart managed to make most of his rinkmates in the first place, though admittedly he didn’t know much about Cassandra Cain. All he really did know was that she was about a year older than him, rarely talked to anyone aside from her partner Tim, and that she absolutely emanated a sense of elegance and decorum on the ice. 

The way Tim could hold her on the ice and spin around gave one the image of a person holding a delicate doll, then suddenly he would release her and the two could dance around the ice like two friends in a heavenly paradise. 

There was definitely a reason why Bart and Cissie placed fourth at Nationals and why Tim and Cassandra managed second. 

Eventually, Bart got off the boards of the rink and back onto the ice. 

“So… Max thinks I should dance with that Cass girl, right?” the mopheaded dancer said. He looked back up at Jesse on the bench. 

The blonde nodded. “Only if you want to though — if it doesn’t work out, I’m sure there are other people who could use you as a partner.” She sucked in a nervous breath. “That may put you out of the season for a while.” 

Bart kept looking at his phone screen and shrugged. “Could be worse,” he admitted. “But I guess it’s worth a shot.” 

About a million thoughts were running through his head, but if one thing was for sure it was the ice dance career of the one Bart Allen was not completely dead.

As Bart made mental plans to discuss things further with Max, he randomly swiped around Instagram on his phone. Before he could close the app he saw a certain post that caught his attention. 

To say that the figure skating community remained close-knit was an understatement, but to say that news and rumors in said community could spread like wildfire was an even bigger understatement, one of potentially lovecraftian proportions. 

The current post from a talented pairs skater from New York only further proved Bart’s point.

“Oh…” Bart said. Soon a mischievous smile crept up on his youthful face as he swiped through Rick Tyler’s apparent Nationals Photo Dump. 

It seemed that Rick’s killer short program wasn’t the only thing he was focusing on during the competition. Aside from the pictures of the North Metropolis Ice Arena and of his fellow rinkmates during some pre-competition downtime, there were a few images of a cafe table, wherein shared a latte with the other blonde known for training at the Keystone Skating Center. In fact there were several photos of said blonde, even some depicting the two exploring the Metropolis streets together. 

It seemed that coming in at sixth place wasn’t the only thing they had in common.

After a few moments, Jesse gave Bart a confused expression. 

“What?”

Bart gave her a smirk. “I knew you hung out with that himbo from New York,” he said teasingly. “But I didn’t think you hung out with him that much.” 

Bart had known Jesse for long enough to know when she was getting flustered. As she sat on the bench near the ice, her grip around her coffee cup tightened as a slight red tint came upon her cheeks. He hadn’t seen her get that excited and nervous since they both ran into Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir at a hotel lobby. 

“His name is Rick,” Jesse managed to say. “And we… spent some time together during the competition…” She then took a quick sip of her coffee, perhaps to hide the bashful look on her face. “... and a little bit after.” 

Bart let out a playful, slightly devilish chuckle. “Oh, I know — Jay and Max said you were a little late for gala rehearsals.” The little eyebrow waggle he did to punctuate his words simply added to the theatrics. 

Though to be fair to Jesse, Bart didn’t blame her. After seeing Rick Tyler and Jennie-Lynn Hayden's incredibly flamboyant gala performance, in the middle of which the male skater dramatically tore off his shirt to the sensual beat of a Marvin Gaye song, how could one not find themselves drawn to the muscular arms of the brunette himbo with the chiseled jaw? 

Jesse’s once sheepish look slowly morphed into one of annoyance. In every way but blood Bart easily viewed her as an older sister, but in the same vein she also viewed him as a very annoying little brother. 

“Jay and Max also said that you should learn to mind your own damn business,” Jesse finished off. 

And with that said, she stood up from her bench and walked away from the rink, choosing to disappear into the hallways leading out of the arena (to perhaps scream into the void) and leave the nosy little ice dancer to his own devices. 

Even when she was gone Bart rolled his eyes and laughed, then reminded himself to skate by the old fogies of the rink to inquire for the rest of the tea. 

[tenderlyrenjun]

Lmao also i just wanted ti say my comments/reblog stuff are no pressure i just wanted to moan about it bc grrrr bark bark renjunnn (also may or not be having a growing thing w/someone irl and sidjajsksakkandnsja im going crazy)

ah, i … haven’t read through tags or comments on reblogs lately; I don’t think there are any except yours tbh

but, i just generally really like those story ideas, especially the strangers to rivals to friends to almost lovers to enemies back to strangers to maybe friends then finally to lovers (this is the museum curator x artist grad school au; I’m pretty sure everyone can see the psychological projection here) — it’s technically (in my WIP) called Would’ve, Should’ve, Could’ve, which is, fun fact, based on that thing English teachers would say — this is, like, another layer of depth for the fic because they’re each other’s teachers/mentors, essentially, and then, like, would’ve is, like, “part 1” where they hate each other based off each other’s specialties and they have to kind of get over that; then should’ve is “part 2” when minghao introduces the bombshell relocation to Shanghai; then could’ve is “part 3” where they reconnect, back in Korea and then etc etc etc the reader follows him to China for awhile etc etc etc stuff happens, open-ended ending about where they live/fly back and forth through. And then, there’s a mild sequel where they fight about where to live, all the flying around the world, both of them hardly ever seeing each other because they’re both so successful and “here’s an out” “I’m not spending a year away from you again” “it’s not a break; it’s an out” “you think our relationship ran its course? how could you” “I still love you … but …” etc etc etc

the biker au (it’s called jacket; I feel like this is obvious why because whatever jacket he wears is kinda like an armor, in his opinion, and a trophy, in the reader’s opinion) is more, like, what happens when you catch someone’s eye in the middle of a situationship (his, obviously; he’s almost dating someone else, which is the person (!!!!!) the reader brings up when they sleep together). I really like this idea but I don’t have, like, a full plot for it; it’s mostly just the reader doesn’t have a car because it broke down; renjun ran into her; they hang out at the bus stop awhile, everyday really, after the reader’s class; they’re seen by everyone around campus; the reader gets her car fixed; renjun doesn’t know this and goes back for a week and a half but the reader’s not there; the reader goes back after 2 weeks, Renjun’s not there; reader “stalks him” but he has her blocked (failed situationship); yangyang motivating pep talk; reader goes to find renjun behind the language department then sees him with someone else; they don’t talk At All through the next week; renjun sees the reader at the library and almost says hello but sees karina and backs off; they finally meet again, by accident, near the bus stop when the reader let yangyang borrow her car; they talk, they sleep together, renjun almost leaves his jacket but decides to actually stay this time; they confess in the morning, etc etc etc., but it’s not, like, a real plot or anything.

I’m always happy to talk about renjun ;-; I have a lot of love and admiration (and general knowledge and photocards) about him ;-;,

congrats on your forming relationship!!! ^^