#the amount of times I had to cover my mouth LMAOOO

[keii]

Spent the whole day with Sushi yesterday!!! We got breakfast together and thought we were stuck in the parking lot bc her car wouldn’t reverse, but we think it was bc we were on an inclined hill. Sushi and I saw a cute “service” dog and she kept saying “You’re supposed to be at work!” Bc he kept sniffing and asking for pets… he’s a fake!!! LMAOO We finished watching the first Spiderverse movie and the whole second season of The Bear and it was SO GOOD, I need a third season now!!! Talked about our ocs with The Lorax playing in the bg and came up with more crazy shit for our ocs (we also don’t know why everyone thought the onceler is sexy) LOL All the while Pepper laid on top of my purse. We were talking about wine and she had some so we tasted some in these cute lil shot glasses that perfectly fits one ice cube LOL Next time I’m gonna subject her to the Tobey Spider-Man movies and she’s gonna love it.

[chanluster]

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan​ @minaamhh @leescrt

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“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face. 

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation. 

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy. 

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit. 

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.” 

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?” 

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?” 

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.” 

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs. 

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination. 

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u 

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible. 

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?” 

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels. 

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue. 

Chan himself used this system  — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head. 

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” 

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!” 

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face. 

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names. 

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration. 

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched. 

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.  

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs. 

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass. 

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist. 

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go. 

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled. 

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours. 

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth. 

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not. 

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of. 

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust. 

You wanted this as much as he did. 

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel. 

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him. 

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit. 

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on. 

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing. 

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve. 

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you. 

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs. 

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more. 

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious. 

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation. 

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation. 

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth. 

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin. 

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest. 

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants. 

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes. 

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers. 

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big. 

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost. 

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron. 

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you. 

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds. 

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you. 

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence. 

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.  

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe. 

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were. 

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter. 

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?” 

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms. 

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets. 

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before. 

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension. 

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS: 

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation. 

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness. 

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant. 

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress. 

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats. 

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began. 

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future. 

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.” 

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned. 

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over. 

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances. 

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.” 

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank. 

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.” 

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more. 

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?” 

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful. 

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.” 

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

“You might have to put a hold to that.” 

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

 Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go. 

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal. 

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement. 

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered. 

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly. 

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?” 

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free. 

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams. 

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat. 

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing. 

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable. 

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches. 

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table. 

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party. 

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves. 

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him. 

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. 

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied. 

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication. 

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon. 

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back. 

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him. 

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings. 

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child. 

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration. 

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears. 

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.” 

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer. 

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.” 

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends? 

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again. 

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.” 

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms. 

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual. 

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?” 

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you. 

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand. 

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?” 

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.” 

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare. 

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!” 

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!” 

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you. 

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him. 

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin. 

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?” 

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear. 

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor. 

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face. 

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed. 

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!” 

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal. 

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud. 

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day. 

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his. 

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing. 

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability. 

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more. 

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire. 

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut. 

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago. 

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy. 

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem. 

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets. 

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it. 

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this. 

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers. 

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight. 

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world. 

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you. 

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely. 

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer. 

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets. 

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again? 

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness. 

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[spencerreidscoffeecup]

Hot Summer Nights (Dom!Spencer)

Spencer Reid x Female! Reader

CW: Penetrative sex, heavy petting, degredation k!nk, sub-drop, Dom/Sub relations, edging, Daddy K!nk, impregnation k!nk

Y/N's POV

"Spencer!" I squealed, rushing to my boyfriend's arms, hugging him tightly. I hadn't seen him in a good month or so, his work constantly providing him with gory cases about murders, murderers, and all things scary. The only contact we had was talking on the phone every night, but still, that wasn't the same as having him physically here with me.

"Hey beautiful," he chuckled, the reply muffled from his face nuzzled in my hair as he hugged me back. I pulled away, kissing his soft, sweet lips, relishing in the moment.

"I missed you so much," I said as I pulled apart from the kiss.

"I missed you so much, too" he said, cupping my cheeks with his warm hands and bending down to give me a peck on the lips before examining the outfit I was wearing.

I wore a mesh light purple push-up bra, white-striped knee-high socks, and an extremely tiny pleated creamy-white skirt; my ass practically exposed.

It was very different from what I'd normally wear, but the AC in mine and Spence's apartment was broken, and it was summertime in Quantico.

It wasn't like I went out with this attire on, but I was doing some cleaning around the house and got very warm, stripping out of my clothes to put on some cooler ones.

I saw sexual hunger and lust flash through Spencer's eyes, making him clear his throat and turn away, setting his bag down and asking, "I'm really tired, love, would you want to go to sleep right now?"

"Sure," I replied. It was midnight, so it wasn't like I wasn't tired. I had already showered and gotten ready for bed, after all.

He turned around and kissed me hungrily, then bent down to kiss my shoulder. Butterflies swarmed my stomach, making me feel warm. I smiled at the contact and held my hand out for him to hold it, which he grasped onto, almost immediately.

"Why is it so warm in here?" he asked, fanning himself as I let go of his hand and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"AC broke," I said simply, "the repair man is coming tomorrow, though."

He nodded and watched as I stripped off my skirt, then my socks, then my bra and panties.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, biting his lip slightly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I quizzed, "It's hot and I don't want to be all confined in clothing."

He chuckled, "Okay,"

He slipped into bed, my naked self following in pursuit, and wrapping myself in Spencer's arms.

As much as I wanted this, I wanted more.. I wanted Spencer. It had been a month without him and I missed him.

So as he wrapped his arms around me I let a small, unsatisfied groan slip past my lips.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I need skin on skin contact," I whine.

"If I do that, you won't be able to control yourself, little girl." he whispered, kissing my neck lightly.

"Yes I will," I said defensively.

"Fine," he says after a moment, "but no funny business."

I feel the rustling of sheets behind me, the sound of his slacks sliding down his body and his shirt being thrown on the floor. My heart skips a beat, warmth shooting down to my core.

He gets back in bed, cuddling up next to me again and I turn around, kissing him square on the lips. He smiles and whispers,

"Go to sleep, little girl."

I turn around, my plan not over quite yet.

After a moment, I begin rocking on him, my core now throbbing with desire.

"Y/n," he begins, "what did I say?" he warns.

"I-I'm not doing anything, Daddy," I try to say innocently as he groans at the nickname.

"Fuck,"  he moans, "turn over."

I do as he says, smiling a wicked grin, although giving him my best, 'I'm not doing anything'- eyes.

"Oh don't give me that look," he says, standing up, his erection present. "You're nowhere near innocent,"

I sit up, massaging my breasts with my left hand softly. "I don't know what you're talking about," I babble, biting my lip softly.

"Fine," he says as I crawl over to him, "You want to act like a slut, you get treated like one."

I whimper at his remark, lifting my hand to start messaging his already-hard dick, before he stops me.

"No," he says, grabbing my wrist, "I'm gonna do what you want me to do; I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't even remember your name."

I squeal as he pulls me to him, then pushes me back down on the bed, pulling my legs apart. He drags a finger up my slit as I gasp, my head falling back into the bed.

"Look at that," he mocks, "so wet for me already, and I haven't even touched you."

He then dips a finger in my heat, then another, then another. I moan, grasping the bed sheets in my palms.

He thrusts his fingers into me, curling them on the spot that is craving to be touched by him.  After a moment, I feel that familiar warm feeling grow in my lower stomach and cry,

"S-Spencer, I-I'm gonna come!"

Just like that, he pulls his fingers out of me, covered in my arousal. I practically cry in annoyance.

"Uh uh uh," he teases, "you don't get to come quite yet."

He puts his fingers covered in my arousal in my mouth and I suck.  He stares hungrily at me.

He pulls me up by my hips and turns me over on my hands and knees.

"I get to come first, and if I don't, you won't be allowed to come for a week."

I groan.

"Oh?" he questions, "but this is what you wanted, right princess? You wanted to tease me like a naughty girl with that outfit of yours... so I suggest you shut the fuck up, and take what you get."

"Y-yes daddy," I whimper.

"Good girl."

He then strokes his cock, and thrusts into me without hesitation, pounding into me before I can fully adjust to his size. But I don't care, the pain mixing with the pleasure to create an intoxicatingly-amazing feeling.

"God, I missed you," he groans, bottoming into me at a brutal force. "I could just -fuck!- I could just fuck a baby into you, then we could really be together forever." he slaps my ass, the sound registering in my brain before the slight stinging sensation does.

I moan, the feeling and his words overwhelming, but pleasing.

"Fuck, princess," he gasps, pulling me up so my back is flush to his front, still thrusting into me at an unholy pace. He pulls one of his hands to massage my breasts, then my neglected pearl at the front of my core. He begins rubbing circles on it, making me squirm.

"Daddy, please!" I sob, tears now falling from my eyes at the overwhelming amount of pleasure, "P-please! I'm gonna come!"

"No," he pants, "if you do, you won't be able to come for a week... I'm almost there, baby."

I sob, trying to coax an orgasm out of him, my inner-walls clenching around him, "Come inside me, Daddy.. Please!"

"Ah, fuck!"  I hear him, now choking on his moans.

I feel warmth fill inside of me, the feeling causing my mouth to fall into an 'O' shape.

"Come, princess," he whimpers, "Come for Daddy.. Be a good girl and come."

So I do, my body milking out my own orgasm as he fucks me through our highs.

I want to scream, but nothing comes out, I pull my hand from in front of me and put it behind my back, hoping he gets the memo. He does, holding it gently as he thrusts a few more times inside of me before my limbs give out and he pulls out as I collapse on the bed.

He lies down on the bed, kissing my lips gently.

"I love you so much," he whispers, brushing some hair out of my eyes, "I'm so proud of you."

I feel an overwhelming amount of emotions pour out of me before I can even register it in my brain. My lip quivers and I cry into his chest.

Sub-drop.

"Shh shh shh," he shushes me as he tangles his fingers through my hair. "It's okay, I'm here." he says softly, pulling away from me slightly to look into my eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, kissing my lips, then brushing away the fallen tears.

"I-I love you," I say in a small voice.

"I love you," he says, kissing my forehead.

I fall asleep in his arms, listening to the sound of his breathing.

_____________________________________________________________________________

AN: YOU GUYS ARE THIRSTY LMAOOO PPL KEEP ASKING FOR MORE DOM SPENCER SO HERE IT IS! SOME FLUFF IS COMING SOON AS WELL AS SOME SUB SPENCER!

NEW CHAPTERS WILL BE UP SOON!

love you all!

For those of you who don't know what sub-drop is: "It's an emotional and physical low, that begins anywhere from a few hours to a few days after an emotional/endorphin high and can last hours to weeks. The specific term sub-drop comes from the kink community, because it's typically experienced by submissive individuals after an intense scene."

[bratkook]

queen of broken hearts. jjk (m) part three.

“Tell me i’m the worst, make you cry and make you hurt, i’m the queen bow down to me, I will leave you out to bleed.”

part one. part two.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: angst but theres a happy ending yay word count: 7.4k warnings: nothing crazy this time, just mentions of the explicit polaroid photo, an attempt at infidelity, oc is still a liar who doesn’t deserve anything author’s note: ok i couldn’t not write a third part of this to tie it all up and give you guys the happy ending jk deserves so here it is, i hate this oc and love that all of you hate her too lmaooo

Jungkook glances down at his phone, seeing the text he had just sent. A simple string of letters that spelled ‘i’m outside’, a familiar pattern his fingers had memorized. Except for the first time in a very long time the text wasn’t being sent to you.

The device pings with a response from Taehyung, stating he was on his way down, so he locks it once more and sets it underneath his radio in his car. Jungkook grunts as he catches on to the lyrics ringing in his car and skips the song currently playing, it was one of your favorite songs and once he listened to the lyrics he felt like it was a direct jab at him, especially when you had asked him to download it with that same smile that lead to heartbreak. That didn’t stop him doing as you asked, just because you liked it so much.

The amount of times the song I Feel Bad by Blackbear had played in his car as he left your place had nudged it up the algorithm, making his phone constantly play it when he shuffled all of his songs. He needed to fully delete it from his library.

Jungkook had to admit he was doing pretty good, it was going on 6 weeks and you were still blocked from his instagram. He had even gone as far as making his page private to prevent you from lurking, he doubted you’d go to that extent though, not as desperate to see Jungkook’s life play out without you in it. Surely you had moved on to the next shiny toy.

The only thing he had yet to do was block your number, the small no dignity having part of him hoped that maybe you’d reach out, maybe you’d apologize for anything and everything, maybe you’d wake up and realize how you truly felt for him.

That never happened.

Your thread of messages was bone dry, taunting him in his inbox so much he had to delete it all to stop himself from typing out a message at 3am in sheer desperation. He wouldn’t be reaching out and it was clear you wouldn’t be either.

“Hey man.” Taehyung greets him as he pulls the passenger door open, sliding in with ease and slamming it shut behind him. Jungkook blinks back to reality, giving his friend a small smile as they shake their hands in the playful way they always did.

“Jimin’s not with you?” He wonders, expecting the other boy to have come down with him since they all had plans together.

Taehyung shakes his head as he settles into the seat, adjusting his messy hair in the visor and buckling up just as Jungkook pulls out of the parking spot. “Nah, he’s at his apartment. He told you he’s bringing someone with him right?”

Jungkook frowns at that because no, Jimin hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone along with him and he really hoped it wasn’t a girl. The last thing he wanted was to be subjected to seeing them swap spit when they were meant to be having a guys day. It seemed a little stupid for Jungkook to hope for that but he had grown to appreciate spending more time with his friends lately, once again realizing just how much of his time you had consumed, always ditching the plans he had with his friends to go get his dick wet and his heart shredded.

“It’s some guy that just started working with him.” Taehyung fills in, taking the initiative to be in charge of the music because Jungkook’s current mix was sort of depressing. He frowns as he scrolls through the artists, choosing to type someone in to play music that wasn’t in his library.

When the beginning sounds of a hit Bad Bunny song fill the car Jungkook nearly swerves as he whips his head to stare at Taehyung bobbing along, “Since when the fuck do you know spanish?”

“I don’t, you just gotta vibe along.” He proves his statement by proceeding to horribly sing along in broken spanish, but his energy is contagious, spreading to Jungkook until he was eventually dancing along with him. The two of them making up their own moves on the short drive to Jimin’s and Taehyung can’t help but feel successful at making his friend have a good time. It had been a while since Jungkook behaved like his usual self.

Him and Jimin still didn’t know about you but after he had decided to block you he had fallen into a tiny pit of despair, returning to the shell of himself that they had seen during the weeks you had ghosted him. It took a lot of coaxing before they were able to pull him out, not asking any questions about anything no matter how much their curiosity itched.

They knew their best friend was hurting so they tried their best to do whatever they could to make it better, constantly reaching out to drag him out of his one bedroom apartment, making plans he couldn’t say no to, being the best wing men they could whenever they hit up bars. It had worked though, they had managed to fill up the small you shaped void inside of him enough for him to be able to ignore.

He never really thought of you until he was completely alone, usually when the sky was the darkest and he had trouble sleeping, remembering the countless nights you’d text him to come over when you were also restless. On nights like that he’d force himself to take a sleeping aid, not wanting flashbacks of you underneath him to wear down his strength when he had been doing so well.

So far so good.

“Is this Bad Bunny?” Jimin instantly asks when he enters the car, having already been waiting outside of his complex with his friend beside him.

“Yeah!” Taehyung laughs, turning the volume up slightly.

Jimin just shakes his head as he slides over in his seat, giving Jungkook a similar greeting before his friend follows suit. He’s a silver haired guy with sharp eyes, a small smile being sent Jungkook’s way as Jimin introduces him. “Oh, this is Yoongi, he just became Jamba Juice’s newest bitch.”

Taehyung shoots him a sympathetic look, he had worked along side Jimin a few months ago before quitting in a fit of rage so he knew how unpleasant the job was. “My condolences.”

Yoongi just chuckles, nodding in acceptance, not attempting to deny that the job was hell on earth but it paid alright so he’d just suck it up. “Jimin never shuts up about the two of you at work.”

Jungkook laughs at that as he starts to drive once more, wondering just what Jimin said about them while on the clock, they had all been friends for years so he really had an infinite amount of stories to bring up.

Whatever he had said about them must have been good enough because Yoongi fits right in, balancing out Taehyung’s crude sense of humor with his own, being made aware of some of the inside jokes they all had together and continuing them with ease.

Jungkook begins thinking that he wouldn’t mind Yoongi becoming a part of their group, he had a pretty easy going personality and didn’t protest when Taehyung ended up dragging all of them to some random flea market near by.

Unfortunately it all slowly starts to crumble on the drive towards the restaurant Jimin wanted to try.

“Hey Jungkook, do you have a phone charger?” Jimin asks from the back seat, glaring at the dwindling percentage on his phone due to him now being in charge of the music selection because Taehyung was adamant on playing reggaeton and they were all sick of it.

Jungkook hums in confirmation, too busy staring at his own phone screen for the directions to notice that Jimin was already opening up his center console to grab the cord that he knew was always there.

The photo that greets him as he opens it up definitely isn’t always there though, the shiny polaroid of you looking directly into the lens stares right at Jimin and he immediately recognizes you as the girl from the diner.

“Woah, this is dirty Kook.” He laughs out, trying his best to avert his eyes from the salacious photo and pull out the charger he was originally searching for.

“What?” Taehyung asks, peeking over and gasping obnoxiously when he spots the photo too. He’s not as caring as Jimin is, grabbing the photo from the edges and bringing it up close and personal to his face for a better view.

“Who the fuck is this?” He asks as he stares at the picture with a goofy smile on his face. He tilts the polaroid side to side to look through the glare the sun provides but the raunchy act caught on film is clear as day. Jungkook carries a photo of some girl sucking his dick in his car, what a perv.

Jungkook finally looks up and when he sees the polaroid in Taehyung’s hand he feels his heart drop, reaching across and trying to snatch it but he falls short. Taehyung scoots further in his seat, holding the photo higher up and screaming when the car swerves as Jungkook lurches across his seat and tries to reach for it once more.

“It’s just some girl.” Jungkook grunts as he steadies the car again, his face burning hot as he hears Jimin laughing along in the backseat. Leave it to his friends to act like they’ve never seen more explicit photos, parading it around like it’s the first x-rated polaroid they’ve ever seen as if they didn’t have a collection of ridiculous porn bookmarked onto their phones.

The way Taehyung’s currently holding the photo up gives Yoongi a clear view of it and as his eyes lock onto yours he tilts his head slightly. What was Jungkook doing with a photo of you, covered in cum with his dick in your mouth.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Jimin teases, placing his hands on his shoulders and laughing louder when Jungkook finally snatches the photo from his friends grasp, swatting the side of his head for good measure before stuffing it back into the center console and slamming it shut.

“No, she’s mine.” Yoongi finally speaks up, leaning back into his seat and staring at the back of Jungkook’s head as he drove. A small smile is on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, the entire car falling into a dead silence, no one wanting to break it until they knew how serious this was. 

Taehyung is half expecting this to become a world star beat down whereas Jimin can’t tell if he’s joking or not, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Yoongi and Jungkook. He sort of wishes he had never asked for a charger now.

Jungkook can’t get himself to say anything, his fingers gripping his steering wheel tighter as his mind starts to spin, desperately waiting for the joking laughter to ensue but it never comes.

Could he really be your boyfriend? Had you been with Yoongi even when you were going on dates with Namjoon or was Yoongi new. Then came the twist of the knife when he realizes that if Yoongi was new, filling in Jungkook’s shoes now that he was gone, you had seen him in a better light than you’d ever see Jungkook in, making him your boyfriend in a few weeks when Jungkook’s known you for years.

“Why do you have a photo of Y/N giving you head?” Yoongi asks, a little caught off guard by the situation. The two of you weren’t officially dating yet but considering he had met your family it felt a little unnerving to see a photo of you like that with someone that wasn’t him.

He’s not upset at Jungkook, he can see how flustered he is, but he needed some form of explanation before he filed you under cheater in his mind.

“It’s an old photo.” Jungkook can barely get out, wanting to shrivel up at the awkward tension filling up the car.

“How old?”

“Over a month ago.” That admittedly wasn’t that old and it doesn’t do much to settle Yoongi’s uncertainty but he decides not to push it, the only person who needed to explain was you.

“I can toss the photo if you want me to.” Jungkook suggests, he had forgotten about the photo after he stuffed it into the center console when he left your house and although he would like to keep it, now that the cat was out of the bag and your new boy of interest had seen it, he felt a little wrong holding on to it. What were the fucking odds.

Yoongi shakes his head, it was a photo taken from your camera and you obviously knew it was being taken, if Jungkook wanted to keep it for whatever weird reason that was his call, for all he knew Jungkook was one of your exes. 

“Just maybe don’t keep it in your car man.” Yoongi suggests, his fingers itching by his side with the want to text you for an explanation but he knows he needs to play his cards right to get an actual answer from you.

Jungkook takes Yoongi’s suggestion as a demand, the second he gets back home after they finished hanging out he pockets the photo once more and decides to shove the photo deep into his underwear drawer. Hopefully it’s something he’ll forget about and stumble upon in a few years and not feel the same gutted emotions he does now.

Jungkook knows he’s only hurting himself further by allowing a fragile string to continue to tie the two of you together but its the small tinge of hope that maybe one day he’d feel a tug from the string in your direction that prevents him from snipping it.

As he lays in bed he feels a similar dark shadow start to fall over him, reminiscent to the one that had nearly swallowed him whole weeks ago. The only plus side to this was that he now knew that you had moved on, something that should help him think straight, not let his memories get warped until you’re seen as this sweet angel that never did him any wrong.

The other plus side was that he didn’t get his ass beat by Yoongi, the boy had swept it under the rug and went about the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. He was unaware that Yoongi was at your place now with Jungkook being the topic of discussion.

Yoongi was currently trying his best to not burn a hole in your floor as he paced back and forth on your carpet with you staring at him looking as comfortable as ever on your bed. How you looked like that when he had just interrogated you on your relationship with the other boy was beyond him.

He wasn’t even sure if you were lying to him or not, your answers seemed too practiced to be truthful, too thought out for him to fully believe. The second he had brought Jungkook up it was like your brain went into autopilot and the perfect answers he was looking for just spilled out.

But somewhere along the line you said something that rubbed him the wrong way, a phrase that made him double take when you implied that Jungkook meant absolutely nothing to you, how it was all fun and games and Yoongi didn’t buy that for a second. The defeated look on Jungkook’s face throughout the rest of the day showed Yoongi how he felt and it sure as hell didn’t look like absolutely nothing.

Even if you and Jungkook weren’t serious, the way you were speaking about him, with no sympathy or regard to how he felt it made Yoongi a little uncomfortable. Had you said that Jungkook was horrible, treated you like garbage or anything that warranted this sort of reaction he could understand but you just seemed so emotionless.

“You don’t care about him?” Theres been an evil glint in your eye ever since Yoongi mentioned Jungkook, the slight anger you felt at him treating you how you treated him resurfacing at his name. You don’t even know why he’s asking you this, did he want you to say you didn’t care about him to boost his own ego or did he want you to say you did to see if your feelings lied deeper?

“Why should I?” Your tone is cold and Yoongi is a little caught off guard at how quickly you’re able to turn off the bubbly personality he had been drawn to in the beginning.

“I mean considering you let him photograph you sucking his dick I’m not really buying this whole facade you have going on right now.”

A small laugh fills the room and Yoongi can only stare at you, briefly wondering if this was some sort of joke because the way you’re acting now is the polar opposite to the you he’s known for the past month. You just found the situation laughable, you always covered your tracks, careful enough to not trip over your own lies but your edge must be wearing off.

“There’s no facade.” You reply calmly, hoping the soft look in your eyes is convincing enough for him but it’s not. Yoongi knows he must be on to something, the minute he brought Jungkook up he saw the way your demeanor changed and now he wasn’t sure if you were just down right heartless or playing it off.

“You honestly don’t have any empathy for other people do you?” He shoots out, looking directly at you and seeing the way your eyes lose their sweetness, narrowing in size as you try your best not to glare at him but he can see right through it. He can tell he’s digging a little too close to uncharted territory but he was sick of the mystery that was you, never knowing where anything stood because you were too selfish to think of other people’s emotions due to your actions.

“Is that really what you’re focused on.”

“Yeah, a little.” He scoffs in disbelief, “I don’t really want to find out my girlfriend’s a fucking sociopath years down the line.”

You laugh again at that, leaning back on your arms as you sit on your bed, “Girlfriend?” The look you give him makes him stumble over his words for the first time, realizing that you hadn’t ever put a label on what you were and now feeling a little embarrassed by your condescending tone.

You honestly don’t even know why you react the way you do, you actually liked Yoongi, could see this becoming something serious, but the way he was exposing your faults, making you see the parts of you that desperately needed work, it rubbed you the wrong way so you needed to knock him down a few pegs. A classic self sabotaging move you always did, not being able to bite down the hurtful words you knew you’d throw his way.

“You think I’m your girlfriend?” You ask, only rubbing salt onto the slowly opening wound and he almost winces but he can see that this is your defense mechanism so he doesn’t let it burn as much as he knows it should.

“Is that what you’re gonna turn this into?” He counters, a displeased look on his face, “Trying to hurt my feelings because I’m asking you pretty justified questions is a low blow Y/N.”

That shuts you up, the next batch of spiteful words you were ready to shoot his way dissolving on your tongue when you see the way he looks at you. You’d expect him to be angry, visibly upset at what you had said but instead he just looks tired.

“Look, I obviously struck a nerve bringing him up because this–“ he motions to you, making you realize how tense your body had become, “isn’t the you I know, so whenever you decide to put your fangs away and talk about your buried emotions let me know.”

You don’t even know how to respond to the way he shut you down with ease, your eyes only showing more of your confusion when he steps forward and kisses the top of your head, “Goodnight.” Is all he says before turning around to leave your room and apartment altogether.

“Goodnight.” You weakly mumble out as he shuts the door behind him, completely throwing you off the course of events you were sure were about to transpire.

The anger you felt inside slowly starts to fizzle out until all you feel is sick, a pit of disgust brewing inside of you at the way you had behaved. Not just with him but with Jungkook.

This had become a regular feeling for you ever since Jungkook decided to throw you aside, being the main reason you had decided to hold on to Yoongi when you had met him by chance, needing something to distract you so the guilt you felt wouldn’t drive you into doing something you knew you’d regret.

The amount of times you wanted to reach out to him during these last few weeks was concerning for you, never really realizing just how much you relied on him when you needed to get out of your head. The slow clarity that he had always been quick to come to you and offer help in any way he could while you always shut him down, diverting questions when he’d ask what was wrong because you were scared of him getting too close, all it had done was burn him.

You had left him scarred and wounded as he laid on his bed, contemplating smothering himself with his pillow as he regretted his life choices that landed him in this situation. It’s the selfish side of you that has you opening up your phone and calling his number without a second thought, you keep it on speaker and toss it on the bed, half expecting it to go directly to voicemail since you were sure he had blocked your number too, but it continues to ring.

Jungkook nearly bolts up in shock when the phone by his head starts to vibrate and light up, his squinting eyes staring at the screen and freezing when he sees your name displayed on it. He feels like he stops breathing as his phone buzzes on his comforter, it was now clear that Yoongi had in fact brought him up to you and he was pretty sure if he answered the phone it would not go in his favor.

He lets it ring until it eventually goes to voicemail, his phone dimming down once more and he finally relaxes. It only lasts a brief moment, his phone buzzing once more with a text this time and he doesn’t want to open it.

Instead he grabs the device and stuffs it in between his mattress and box spring, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before sliding back into bed and forcing himself to sleep.

It doesn’t come easy for either of you, he’s constantly tossing and turning on his bed, having to shove his hands under his butt to get them to stop creeping toward the side his phone was tucked under. You on the other hand are constantly checking your phone when you wake up every few minutes, phantom rings pulling you from your slumber and hoping Jungkook responded to your text but every time you blindly stare at the brightness of your screen you’re met with nothing, not even the read display that usually appeared.

It’s not until the sun peaks over the horizon, the soft orange illuminating the inside of Jungkook’s room and waking him up, that he feels his resolve cracking. He tries to blame it on his half asleep state, not being awake enough to know right from wrong but he’s way too aware of the way his fingers move and latch on to his device as he pulls it from its hiding spot.

It takes him a moment to build up the courage to open up your message, half expecting a massive paragraph with you telling him off for whatever reason but the only thing that greets him is a short ‘can we talk please’.

He’s not sure what makes him wary, the fact that you want to talk or you using the word please. Jungkook’s fingers hover over the keyboard, not sure if he should even respond to you. This was what he wanted though isn’t it? The main reason he had decided not to block your number, hoping you’d reach out and explain yourself. But now that you had done the first half he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it through.

Still, his fingers take over and type out a quick response.

jungkook 7:49am : talk about what

The buzzing wakes you up instantly, your phone clutched to your chest in the same position you had fallen asleep in with the hope that he’d respond.

It’s a little surprising to see that he doesn’t immediately agree like he normally does, dropping whatever he was doing to come to your place like he used to but you guess it was called for.

y/n 7:50am : i just want to clear the air

y/n 7:50am : do you wanna have breakfast?

He hates that he feels the tiniest spark of excitement inside of him at you asking him out for breakfast, something he had been wanting forever, but his fingers shake too much as he holds the device, his body reminding him of the withdraws he had already gone through once before. He couldn’t do this again.

jungkook 7:54am : i don’t think thats a good idea

You can only stare at your screen, not knowing how to respond to his message. It was your own selfish desire to fix things, to help ease the guilt off your chest, that made you want to persuade him to do what you asked but when your phone vibrates a second time you know his mind is set and it’s best to leave it alone.

jungkook 7:57am : please don’t message me again, it’s better this way.

You once again feel the familiar twist in your chest, more so when you respond with a simple okay and your bubble turns green before a notification pops up stating the message could no longer be delivered. Jungkook had been the one to weld the chest shut this time, blocking your number to finalize it before locking his phone once more and begging himself to go about his day as if the curiosity of what you wanted to tell him wasn’t eating him alive.

“Jungkook you need oyster sauce and soy sauce, they’re not interchangeable!” Jimin scolds when Jungkook places the oyster sauce back onto the self, his hand once again swiping it off and placing it into the basket he was currently holding.

“Damn sorry, I told you I don’t know what I’m doing.” Jungkook groans, giving his friend a pout that goes ignored because he’s too focused on running through the list he had on his phone to ensure nothing was forgotten.

Jimin was in charge of helping Jungkook out today on his date, it was Valentines day and Jungkook had been dating his girlfriend for a few months now and wanted to make this date a little more special than just eating out. However, he wasn’t blessed with culinary skills so Jimin would be helping him out throughout it all and making a swift exit before his girlfriend would arrive for dinner.

Jungkook wanders off when he notices Jimin is still hyper focused on the array of sauces lined up in this aisle, ending up in the makeshift Valentines day aisle set up, the plush toys in pink and red all holding candies with cute sayings sewn on to the heart on their chests. It seemed too easy to just pick one up and settle with that so he gives himself a mission to do while Jimin finishes up the essentials.

He roams the entire store, grabbing a lavender wired bucket with enough of his girlfriend’s favorite candies to fill the bottom of it, along with that comes an elephant plushie that happened to be her favorite animal. Jungkook had spotted a bouquet of sunflowers by the front of the store so he makes his way in that direction once more, passing by Jimin who was looking for him but continuing on in his trek.

Just as he grabs the bouquet he wanted he hears his name being called and for a moment he thinks he imagined it, not being able to place the voice it belonged to but when it repeats itself much closer he turns around.

Jungkook is even more caught off guard when he spots your brother, looking nothing like the shy and awkward 13 year old he was back then. He hadn’t seen him since he stopped tutoring him nearly four years ago but he recognized the eyes that he shared with you.

“Jihoon?” He questions, smiling when the younger boy nods. He had always looked up to Jungkook, practically idolized him when he was tutoring him, wanting to be him in every aspect. Jungkook had been everything a nerdy 13 year old boy would want to be, adopting a similar clothing style to him that had managed to still stick around with age.

“I saw you and just had to come say hey.” Jihoon says, pulling him in for a typical bro hug.

Jimin huffs as he reaches Jungkook, having chased him down the aisles and finally catching up to him. He gives the younger boy a wave, a little confused as to who he is but when he hears your voice and spots you, it all clicks in his mind.

“Jihoon c’mon, we need to grab what dad wants!” You shout from the end of the aisle, not wanting to approach Jungkook to save yourself the embarrassment. You were still completely blocked off of everything, no form of communication happening between the two of you since that night. The town you lived in was small so it was kind of inevitable that you’d run in to him eventually but having it be today of all days, with him holding up Valentine’s day items just made it all a little more sour.

He looks up at the sound of your voice and gives you a faint smile because thats just who he is, it doesn’t pain him to look at you now though, the small void you had left inside of him nearly patched all the way up with time and distance.

“I know, but look who it is.” Your brother announces, completely unaware that you and Jungkook had very much stayed in contact after he finished tutoring him. You knew who it was, you were very familiar with Jungkook’s face and could probably spot the back of his head in a crowd.

“Hi Jungkook.” You muster out, slowly making your way down the aisle towards them because you knew your brother wouldn’t back off unless you came over and greeted his old tutor.

“How are things with Yoongi?” Jimin speaks up, a knife slicing through the tension and a knowing look on his face as he stares you down. He knew that you and Yoongi were no longer together, having to be the ear Yoongi vented to with all of your problems while at work and while hanging out, knowing that Yoongi had tried his best to make it work but you had been too stubborn, too stuck in your ways to even budge. Jimin knew enough about you now to be able to connect the dots to the way Jungkook had been so torn months prior. You were a bitch and he didn’t like you.

“Oh, we broke up.” You utter out, an odd look on your face because you had no idea who Jimin was or how he knew both Yoongi and Jungkook but you figure thats irrelevant now, staring back at Jungkook and seeing a neutral expression on his face.

Jihoon, not being able to read the room, asks Jungkook if hes buying groceries for a Valentines date tonight and Jungkook shyly confirms it, teasingly asking Jihoon if he had a date tonight as well. “Nah, haven’t hooked anyone onto me yet. Y/N and I are just helping our dad make something for our mom tonight.”

“Yeah speaking of that, we need to get going Jihoon.” You hope your brother can sense your tone, your fingers tempted to grab onto his hair and yank him away, needing him to move along and let you get as far from Jungkook as possible. That sinking feeling in your stomach had returned, only worsening when you realized how good he was doing, how unaffected he was at seeing you.

“Right, anyways, have a nice night with your girlfriend.” He sings with a playful wave as he retreats from the aisle to go back to shopping. You linger a little at the end of the aisle and stare at him for a moment longer, a small wave being sent his way that he reciprocates with a smile.

“Isn’t she polaroid girl?” Jimin grunts out as he readjusts the basket he was holding, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Jungkook mumbles out, continuing to stare at the end of the aisle where you had disappeared, the polaroid being a distant memory in his mind after he had burned it.

“Babe,” Jungkook laughs into the receiver of his phone, resting against the cool exterior of the bar all of his friends were in, “I promise there wont be a repeat of last time.”

“That laugh means trouble Jungkook,” Sooyoung giggles back, already mentally preparing to baby Jungkook back to health when he undoubtably arrives home absolutely hammered, “If I have to hold your hand while you barf up everything and refuse water again I’m filing for divorce!”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand placed over his heart as he hears the way his wife snickers, “Less than a month after and you’re already calling it quits?”

Sooyoung just hums along, sat on the couch of their house and flicking through the channels to find something to watch while their dog laid snuggled up by her feet, “Thats just how to cookie crumbles, unless,” she pauses, mentally picturing the way Jungkook raises his eyebrows as he waits, “you hold my hand while I barf next week when I go out with the girls.”

“You run a tough bargain, but I’ll even hold your hair back hows that?”

“Sounds perfect, be safe Kookie. I love you.” She smiles as the words leave her mouth, the fluttering affect he had on her never fading even after all this time.

“Always, I love you too.” He blushes as he makes a kissy noise, smiling wide when he hears one back before ending the call and and makes his way back inside, instantly spotting his friends gathered around the booth they had managed to snag.

When he makes his way over to them he slides in beside Taehyung, squishing him and Hobi into the booth and hearing them groan in protest.

“Are you done confessing your profound love for Sooyoung?” Jimin teases before throwing back a shot of vodka, he was already very loosened up, this being the second bar they visited due to celebrating Jimin’s wedding in a week.

“Shut up, as if I didn’t catch you literally on the verge of tears in the bathroom as you talked to Daehyun earlier.” Jungkook smiles when Jimin zips his mouth and locks it with an imaginary key, not denying any but of information Jungkook just spilled out. The rest of his friends howl in laughter at the secret, riling him up further and Jungkook decides his job here is done, getting up to order another drink and another round of shots for everyone else.

He leans over the counter and grabs the bar tenders attention with a soft wave of his hand, “Can I get a whiskey sour and another round of shots of tequila.” The woman nods, already having his card on a tab and begins making the drinks for him.

Jungkook settles into one of the stools there, getting comfortable as he waits, not yet sensing the eyes currently staring a hole through his temple from a few seats away.

You had spotted Jungkook walking in with his friends earlier, watching him step out for a phone call before coming back in again. He looked a little different from the last time you saw him, his hair a little longer now with a slight wave to it as it reached his cheekbones. The last time you had seen him was in passing at the same grocery store a few months ago, you had managed to duck into an aisle before he spotted you, being none the wiser that you were hiding from him.

Jungkook starts to feel the burning from his side of someone staring, slowly turning his head until his eyes meet your stunned ones. You expect him to look away, pretend he doesn’t know you and try to hide like you always do but instead he smiles at you, waving you over like you were an old friend of his.

It takes a few moments of building up courage before you get up from your spot and move across the three stools that separated you two with your drink in your hand.

“Hey, how have you been?” He asks with a soft grin, thanking the bar tender as she places his drink and the line of shots in front of him.

“I’ve been alright, Jihoon just moved out of state for work so my parents have been extra needy without someone to baby.” You force a smile back at him, your finger tracing the rim of your glass as you beg the awkwardness to leave, not used to having the underhand in situations like this.

“He’s gonna do great things I’m sure.” Jungkook sighs, taking a sip of his drink and humming at the taste. Looking at him now was like looking at an entirely different person, sure he had the same face but the way he carried himself was a stark contrast to the Jungkook you were accustomed to from three years ago, no longer second guessing himself, instead speaking with an aura of confidence and ease surrounding him.

“You know he never shut up about you once you stopped tutoring him?” You laugh, seeing the smile spreading on Jungkook’s face, “I remember that one time he begged my parents to buy him that one yellow jacket you own, he had to get straight A’s all semester before they got it for him and he never took it off.”

A genuine smile spreads across your lips as you reminisce on the times before, how you had taken them for granted and now seemed to grasp at anything that reminded you of it.

“We had something good going before, I’m sorry for ruining it.”

That catches Jungkook off guard, setting his drink down with a soft thud as he looks over at you fully, “I guess that depends what you consider good.” He jokes, proud that he can make light of a situation that used to leave him feeling wounded.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You cringe, not yet having the luxury of the past not affecting you. He watches on as you take a big gulp of your drink, wiping the excess that drips down your lip with your fingers.

“Don’t be, it’s water under the bridge.” He reassures you, reaching across the small gap between you two and placing his hand over yours when he notices the small trembles of nerves making them shake.

Your hand turns in his grasp, your fingers wrapping around his large ones in a search for comfort. The intentions you originally had when you first spot him leave you as your thumb traces the black band around his ring finger, a clear sign that he was off the market for good, making the words spoil in your mouth as you hold them back.

“Oh, when did this happen?” You ask softly, letting his hand go as he brings it up to spread his fingers out with a proud look on his face.

“About a month ago, I managed to trick someone into marrying me.” He jokes, a glimmer in his eyes as he recalls the day of his wedding, the happiness swelling his heart when he thinks of coming home to Sooyoung after the night is over.

“You never needed to trick someone into marrying you Kookie.” The sound of his nickname doesn’t feel right coming out of your mouth now, like nails to a chalkboard, no longer making his stomach flutter the way it used to.

“It felt like I did.” He admits with a shrug, remembering the years of him pining over you, making a fool of himself for the off chance that’d you one day see him for what he was worth. But like he said, it was all water under the bridge and seeing you here was a welcomed surprise to him now.

You want to say more to him but your tongue gets tied up, no longer having the list of phrases you were going to use when you spotted him. Jungkook catches on to the discomfort growing within you so he downs the rest of his drink to free his hands to be able to carry the shots to his thirsty friends.

“It was good seeing you.” His eyes are sincere as he stares at you for the last time, “I’ll see you around.” You know thats the truth, no doubt would you two run in to each other once more but you know this will be the closest interaction you’ll have. He still had you blocked on everything even years later, not knowing a single piece of information on you and leaving you in the dark about his. But this was just the way things were meant to be.

“Yeah, good seeing you too Jungkook.” You whisper out, watching him as he grasps the shot glasses and makes his way back to his friends, hollers and cheers filling up the bar at the sight of alcohol.

Jungkook slips back into his seat, passing the glasses around to everyone and raising them up to cheer for the end Jimin as an unmarried man. As he throws back the shot, nearly having it come out through his nose when he laughs as he sees the disgusted look Taehyung makes at the taste, he can’t stop himself from looking back in your direction.

You’re still sat on the stool, finishing up the rest of your drink and signing off your tab with a grin on your face. He eyes you curiously when you put your card away, your fingers sorting through your bag before pulling out a shiny diamond ring and slipping it back onto your ring finger.

He can’t help but feel a little disappointed at his realization, having almost fallen into the same web of lies you had intricately set up for him. Staring at him and knowing he’d catch you in the act, hoping to rope him in to bed one last time but the black band on his finger had been what broke the spell, making that same pit of disgust brew inside you and fill you with guilt at what you almost did.

As you walk out, eyes landing on Jungkook’s and noticing that he had spotted your own wedding band you give him that same shamless smile he had burned into his memory before slipping out of the bar altogether, returning home to your husband who would be none the wiser.

Jungkook just shakes his head as he reaches for another shot in the center of the table and throws it back, joining in with the laughter of his friends. Taehyung jostles him around as he recalls a story from the last time they were here but Jungkook’s mind is still focused on you.

Old habits died hard and it seemed like you never had any intention of changing. You may have left him shredded in a thousand parts but he took pride in being able to say that he put himself back together on his own, and when his phone lights up with a goofy selfie of his wife and their dog he realizes he had dodged a bullet, no longer hating the string of events that lead him to where he was now.

[miekasa]

💉 in the case of erwintholomew, our most esteemed blonde dad

before the pandemic, they barely interacted. erwin was levi’s friend after all. although the rest of the gang had bonded with oc, erwin was less visible. he was polite of course, charming even! in uni days (erwin works in corporate now, so his major is business/econ/accounting whatever yall want!), every single history and literature professor fell in love with erwin. as did the barista at the school cafe, the friday night guard, the park street sweepers, and every member of the tai chi ladies club who practiced during weekends at the park where he made his morning run. he always greeted them and yelled “great form, keep it up, ladies!” when he passed by.

of course he tried to turn up the charm on oc (old habit). but. but. oc was just. unaffected. she treated him no differently from the others in his friend group. no swooning or giggling or bashful smiles. she didn’t even blush when he tried his smoulder while offering her some of his enhanced fruit smoothie (enhanced with spinach and kale). she laughed and declined, opting instead for a berry smoothie that she loaded with full-fat yogurt and honey. he was aghast. and levi said oc was a doctor? (levi might have been laughing silently in the background. hange was full-on cackling while moblit was trying to shush them.) he didn’t dwell on it much, it’s not like they saw each other a lot. but then the pandemic struck. being confined to one living complex meant he was lucky to see his friends still. they were at levi’s, watching a movie, when it happens.

oc walks through the door and hange yells “hiiiiii!” she waves at them tiredly. and starts stripping. at the door. in front of everyone. erwin’s blood pressure spikes. his face goes red. he’s staring with his mouth half open, thick brows knitted together. levi snaps his fingers to shake him out of it. moblit is tapping his shoulder more forcefully by the minute while hange has begun asking oc about her day. they’re talking amiably as if oc wasn’t by the door, in her underwear, spraying her things down with alcohol. she catches erwin’s staring and laughs out loud. by this time, moblit has hidden behind the couch and levi has buried his head in his hands from secondhand embarrassment. oc asks him if he’s never seen people in bikinis. “it not as if a bra and undies covers anything less!”. (erwin will later be relieved that she understood him and did not pin him for a creep). hange says erwin just doesn’t function like a regular human. he’s more of an intergalactic species with elements of dad-ness to him.

hange: he’s kind of like a DILF but also a dad!

moblit audibly groans in embarrassment. oc giggles and walks to the bathroom to shower like nothing happened. levi and hange both give erwin a slap, and that pulls him out of it.

levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

erwin: what’s a DILF?

a few headcanons of their relationship:

he still gets flustered seeing oc strip down after work. he fainted once when hange began talking about oc’s bra and the little birds embroidered on her underwear (on her butt). oc sighs and just tells levi to elevate erwin’s legs and let him smell something pungent. moblit has a picture of him passed out. it’s printed and framed on hange’s shelf.

he almost popped a blood vessel when oc once asked him what was the difference between debit and debt and dividends.

oc: i’m a science nerd, erwin, i don’t know jack shit about business jargon!

erwin: these are accounting terms! they’re totally different!

oc: to-ma-to, to-mah-to?

erwin just really has to ask. really. because he’s erwin. “

erwin: do you ever think of a different line of work? i mean, it is a very scary virus and a pandemic

oc: erwin, i went through a decade of academia for this. still going through it. and i need to pay rent and put food on the table!

levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

erwin is also stressed with oc’s eating habits with particular attention to nutrients and calorie count. he tried giving oc an organic diet plan, but oc sat him down and debunked every single thing about trendy diets. she also bugs him stop dieting. “diets are not foolproof! erwin, you are 250 lbs of healthy muscle! one burrito won’t hurt!”

they once had a romcom movie night. it was cheesy and fun and perfect for unwinding. until the sex scene happens.

oc: why do men just stick it in? where is the foreplay?

hange: mhmm the male gaze has ruined men, amazing how men ruin themselves

erwin, turning red: do people really talk about detailed sex so casually? i mean we’re in public?

levi: yes, erwin, grow up

moblit, whispering: it wasn’t even detailed, erwin, please

he does go to oc when he pulls a muscle or strains something. she tut-tuts while wrapping up a joint or icing and stretching his sore muscles and tells him to take it easy on the workouts. he’s also started sending fitness health articles to oc, and oc patiently confirms or debunks each one with sound medical and scientific basis.

he lets oc use his gym. she works out in a sports bra and cycling shorts because she says it means less laundry for her. oc usually just runs (speedwalks actually, and jesus, erwin is itching to turn up the speed) on his treadmill for 20 minutes. then she cycles for another 20 minutes and calls it a day. he tried to take on the role of her trainer and gave her a workout regimen. oc makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

levi:you died after five sit ups?

oc: shut uP, LEVI

whenever she uses his gym, she leaves him food. a slice of cake, donburi from the japanese place, a salad bowl, fajitas, some mochi, a parfait. not once has her gift of food been a part of his diet plan, but he eats them heartily. he hides when he eats the desserts, even if he’s roomie-free. he just feels like he’s cheating too much.

he never quite gets used to oc. she’s nice and wonderful, but she still manages to surprise him. a lot. to others, it may seem like oc enjoys pulling his leg (to hange’s endless delight), but in reality, she’s just trying to help him navigate and acclimatize to the ever-changing modern society and social norms. levi notices, of course, and it only makes him fall so much harder 😌

it’s fun to clown erwin within reason, really vibing with the modern au erwin on here 😌 but yeah, this is how i picture their interactions and dynamics 😭

THIS IS PERFECT OMFG BYE!! I love, love, love the idea of just... slightly socially aloof, but very professionally proficient Erwin trying to make friends with Levi's.... well not his s/o but his very obvious crush at least LMAOOO. I love it, I really, truly do anon, you continue to deliver 😌😌

OC: Erwin, I went through a decade of academia for this. Still going through it. And I need to pay rent and put food on the table!

Levi is rolling his eyes in the background because this little shit said that with her whole chest while she was literally living off peanut butter.

HELP LEVI IN THE BACKGROUND BECAUSE HE WOULD 😭😭 LITERALLY LIVING OFF OF PEANUT BUTTER BYEEE the amount of unconscious lies Levi could expose oc for... I get the feeling he's /this/ close to strapping her to the dining room chair and spoon feeding her himself

Levi: you’re redder than a hot cheeto, your elderly highness

Erwin: what’s a DILF?

HELP THIS IS MY FAVORITE EXCHANGE LMAOO. Levi clowning Erwin, Erwin being too confused too even respond to Levi's jab; he's still processing being called a DILF, and I just know that Levi isn't gonna be the one to explain it, but god forbid Hange does lmfaooo

OC makes it to five sit-ups, ten burpees, and a single 1-minute plank before she falls flat, gasping like a fish out of water, and gives up. she’s flat out on his gym floor, but she tells erwin she appreciates him. erwin had to give her a piggy-back ride back to her apartment though.

Levi: you died after five sit ups?

OC: shut uP, LEVI

Okay first of all, relatable, bye... something about the atmosphere of any gym, even if it were privately owned by a blonde businessman, makes it impossible for me to actually work out 😭😭 The fact that Erwin piggy-backed her back to her apartment is so cute please, I know they never quite get used to each other, but the friendship they have going on right now is so damn cute in an unconventional way, I adore it. Definitely an unexpected pair of friends and they don't... /quite/ work, but they also do. Incredible

Also not Levi coming for her, listen, not all of us are built like you, also you know damn well she's been living off of peanut butter sandwiches, OF COURSE she was gonna die after a few sit ups 🙄🙄 if you wanna help her improve, then start cheffing it up smh

[heavenlymisa]

could we maybe get some first date hcs with,,, todoroki, bakugo, and kaminari?

an; of course!!! ty for the headcannon, anon!!! enjoy!!

now that im looking back at this- i just now realized that i confused karminari for kirishima- ill make a seperate headcannon for him! sorry for the confusion!

shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugou, and eijiro kirishima x female reader (seperate)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.

Shoto Todoroki

⤷ he would ask the girls (execpt for you) what to do for a first date. you two have been dating for 1 month, but never had a first date because of school.

⤷ after hours of planning, stressing, and switching up the plan, he figures out what to do.

⤷ rollerskating rink.

⤷ he’s never been to one, but the girls were talking about what you like to do and rollerskating was the first thing that popped up (sorry if that isnt your favorite thing to do 🥺)

⤷ after figuring out what to do, he texts you to meet him in the common area afterschool after you change out of your school clothes. of course you said okay, but you were skeptical about this.

⤷ the next day, afterschool, you got dressed into a white graphic tee and a black skirt. you checked yourself in the mirror that in your dorm, went downstairs, and waited in the common area.

⤷ you waiting on him for about 5 minutes until you heard him behind you.

⤷ “sorry to keep you waiting. i couldn’t pick out what to wear.”

⤷ you turned around and was met with todoroki in a black turtleneck and black jeans. if you didn’t die the first time you saw im, you have officially died now. sorry, i don’t make the rules.

⤷ “you look beautiful.”

⤷ nevermind, you died now.

⤷ you thanked him and returned the compliment. he nodded his head, grabbed your hand, and he lead you out the door of the dorms.

⤷ “so... where are we going..?”

⤷ “you’ll find out.” he said with a smirk. f u c k

⤷ after 15 minutes of walking and small talk, you two finally made it to the skating rink. you two went inside and saw all of the strobe lights flashing everywhere and people skating.

⤷ you hugged todoroki and thanked him tremendously for taking you here. he of course hugged back and said ‘you’re welcome.’

⤷ todoroki went and paid for the general commission and two pairs of roller-skates (with endeavor’s debit card. make his pockets hurt😋). you two put on your roller-skates and went to the rink.

⤷ well, more like you went to the rink, todo was struggling to stand up. you went back to him and helped his to the rink. he thanked you and attempted to skate

⤷ keyword- attempted.

⤷ he busted his ass.

⤷ you snickered to yourself and attempted to help him up.

⤷ key word- attempted.

⤷ you busted YOUR ass.

⤷ now you both are on the floor looking like boo-boo the fool 😔👊🏽

⤷ but its okay! you two eventually got up and you helped todoroki with skating. he quickly learned how to skate and was skating like a pro on the rink.

⤷ you two raced and todoroki won majority of the time, but you were happy that you could teach your boyfriend something.

⤷ you grabbed todoroki’s hands and started to skate backwards while he skated forwards. oh god he loved when you did that.

⤷after you two were tired, the both of you went back to the dorms to be met with the 1-A girls pestering about the date.

⤷ you told them that you would tell them later because you were really tired, and they understood!

⤷ so you two and todoroki both took a shower (separately) and mysteriously not really ended up sleeping in todoroki’s room.

⤷ everyone was surprised when you and todoroki walked out of his room together.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.

katsuki bakugou

⤷ i think kirishima would bully bakugou into taking you on a date when you two hit 2 weeks.

⤷ “i think bakubro is scared of taking dear old n/n on a daattee~”

⤷ “scared!?! i’ll shOW YOU SCARED-“

⤷ he snatches you from your room and drags you downstairs. literally everyone is watching you being dragged by bakugou and not doing anything.

⤷ “yall hear sum...”

⤷ “hm.. might be the wind.”

⤷ bakugou ignores your pleas and cries of him kidnapping you until you two make it on the train.

⤷ you two sit down on the train and bakugou covers your mouth before you even have the chance to talk.

⤷ “im taking you on a date, nerd. dont get too cocky.”

⤷ you pulled his hand down a little whispered, “where?” 🥺

⤷ “you’ll see! just.. shut up..” he looked away with the ᴛɪɴᴇsᴛ blush on his face. you decided to not pester him with it, so you just lay your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes.

⤷ holy fuck, he loves that.

⤷ when the train stopped, he grabbed your hand and walked out of the train. you two were walking for a good bit until you two stopped at.....

⤷ a carnival!

⤷ your eyes lit up as you looked at the bright lights, tents, and the P R I Z E S

⤷ you went behind bakugou, wrapped your arms around his waist, and buried the side of your head to his back.

⤷ “thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

⤷ bakugou patted your hands and hummed.

⤷ “alright loser,” he unwrapped your arms, guided you in front of him, rested his head on your shoulder, and wrapped his arms around your torso. “lets not waste my time. i got shit to do.”

⤷ you giggled as you both walked inside of the carnival.

⤷ you both first went to get some food. you got a funnel cake while bakugou got a hot and spicy turkey leg 😳

⤷ he kept on sticking it in your face and you kept on running away while he was hot on your trail, waving the turkey leg around 😔

⤷ after you two were done eating, you two played games!!

⤷ he won you many prizes 🥺 including an ugly ass bear that you B EG GED him to throw away.

⤷ he forces you to keep it 😔

⤷ on the plus side, you got a v cute panda bear ! you named him suki 💕

⤷ after that, you two went to the photo booth!!

⤷ he tried to back away from it, but you shoved him into the photo booth.

⤷ i wish i could draw so i didnt have to describe the poses

⤷ first picturee!!! : you made a peace sign and smiled while bakugou was in the back with his hands folded.

⤷ second picturee!!! : you and bakugou were both staring at each other

⤷ third pictureee!!! : your finger was stuck in between bakugou’s neck and head (youre tickling his neck 🤪👊🏽) while he has a smile on his face

⤷ fourth picturee!!! : he was staring at you while you had a cheeky grin on your face. #noregrets ✨

⤷ you two got out and you quickly grabbed the two print outs before bakugou even had the chance to rip them to shreds.

⤷ he stared at you for a little bit and snatch one from your hand.

⤷ the amount of ST RE S S you were under when he snatched it from you 😐

⤷ he stared at the pictures for a couple of seconds and shoved it in his pocket while grumbling about something and walking away from you

⤷ you smiled and ran up to him. you swear for a faint second he had a smirk on his face. oh well 🤪

⤷ when you came back, the bakusquad stared at you two.

⤷ bats eyelashes BLA N K S T A R E 👁👄👁

⤷ but mina completely took you away from bakugou and shoved you into the hallway.

⤷ “soo... how was it??”

⤷ you thought for a second before replying.

⤷ “best first date ever.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.

eijiro kirishima

⤷ baby boy already had this day planned since he first SAW YOU

⤷ not tryna be on some yandere stuff but LOOK AT YOU!!

⤷ how could he NOT think about you!!

⤷ anyways, on the weekend, kirishima knocks at your door.

⤷ you answer it and he grabs both of your shoulders.

⤷ “are you free right now?”

⤷ “ye-“

⤷ congratulations, you are officially being dragged away by kirishima.

⤷ you decided not to question his frantic tactics and just let him lead you.

⤷ lmaooo yolo bitches 🤪

⤷ you guys have been running around town until you two arrived at a.....

⤷ arcadee!!!!!

⤷ he literally DRAGGED you in and got a shit ton of tokens.

⤷ “y/n, come on!! unless you feel like getting beat today!”

⤷ “ohh... this is war...”

⤷ and thus the war between y/n and kirishima started <3

⤷ you two played lots of games in the arcade and even ate some snacks as a mini truce.

⤷ you two were racing on the motorcycle next.

⤷ you got on the motorcycle and look to your right, waiting on kirishima.

⤷ then you felt a body behind you and hands wrap around your torso.

⤷ you jumped and looked back to be met with your dopey boyfriend having a big grin on his face.

⤷ “i was thinking that we could do this together.” 🥺

⤷ “if we’re doing this together, youre driving.”

⤷ diDNT HAVE TO TELL HIM TWICE.

⤷ he jumped up to the front and grabbed on to the handles. you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his shoulder.

⤷ holy fuck he loves you.

⤷ he let you choose all of the motorcycle styles, the person, and the location. what a manly thing to do 🥺

⤷ “i should get a motorcycle when i get my license!”

⤷ he crashed into a tree.

⤷ he completely ignores it.

⤷ but at the end he does get first place soo... 😎 yolo

⤷ but little do you know... he was recording you two!

⤷ he’s glad he did because he loved to look over to his phone and see you concentrating on the screen 🥺

⤷ he cant believe you’re his wtf.

⤷ anyways, when the competition was over, you were the winner by 14 points!! (kiri probably let you win but whatever 🤪)

⤷ you two decided to save up your points for the next time you come.

⤷ going back to the dorm was a peaceful walk. you two walked, hand in hand, and basked in each others presence. <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✭・゜・。.

taglists!!

𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑠 <3

@wasting-away-on-the-internet

𝑏𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜𝑢’𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑘𝑢ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠

𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑏𝑜𝑦’𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠

let me know if you want to be apart of the taglist!! <3

[slightlymore]

cute~

- a pride spin-off -

pairing: haechan x mark

other characters: doyoung, jaemin, jungwoo, onew (??? only bc I needed a name 😔)

genre: angst!! smut! fluff!!! one-shot, company!au (you can read this without reading "pride" first but make sure to read at least the little synopsis below, just to have some kind of context for the first part)

warnings: 18+, language, sexual activities, alcohol, drunk characters

words: 14K (oops)

for those who didn’t read pride and don't want to: doyoung and y/n are in love with each other but because of a series of unfortunate events (them being stupid) they can’t be together. doyoung leaves her after college and starts working at haechan’s company while being miserable; the two boys become enemies/friends. everything goes relatively well until one day y/n makes an appearance and starts working there as well. doyoung and y/n finally get (their shit) together and become a couple. haechan is the happy friend witnessing all of that and this is his story

(the photo was meant to be a shitpost but now I kinda like it lmaooo)

The phone rang for the millionth time that morning, a piercing and resounding noise, making Haechan unable to hear his own thoughts. The boy groaned. It was only 10 am yet everyone suddenly needed to speak with him. Haechan would have loved to spend his workday gossiping on the phone. Maybe chit-chatting about everyone. Listening to his colleagues talk about George's new too-expensive-for-his pockets-but-he's-an-idiot car, or the scandalous hairstyle Alex tried out to impress his already-married-and-twenty-years-older flame, or to hear how someone heard from someone else that somebody had sex with someone somewhere. But not that day. Haechan was exhausted, physically, and mentally, head buried between his arms, the white noises of the office almost putting him to sleep. The infernal device stopped ringing for a second and the young man sighed relieved before it rang again soon after. Haechan whined, almost sobbing, while lightly hitting his forehead on the desk. A soft 'what the fuck' made him raise his face with pained eyes squinting from the sudden too much light. "Are you alright?", the same voice asked, his desk neighbour inquiring. "Mind your own business, Owen", Haechan mumbled and finally put one hand on the phone while massaging the base of his nose with the other. "... my name is Onew", the dude whispered offended, but Haechan's little attention was already drifting away. A female voice said something that Haechan couldn't catch but to which he replied with a short "yeah, thanks", having figured out the words "intern" and "acceptance" through her quick mumbling. When he first heard the news during the beginning of the year reunion, Haechan was ecstatic, to say the least. They said he was responsible and could handle taking care of an intern making Haechan's shoulders widen at the compliments. Also, having an innocent soul to bother for a few months? It meant some company and less work for himself. Paradise. But Haechan had already forgotten about the joy he felt before. He had been feeling weird for a while now and he hated it. The previous night he didn't go home after Doyoung and Y/N left the company building. He listened to them talk for an excruciating period while pretending to sleep. It was beautiful, choked voices and raw confessions, and he felt like the third wheel in his own life. When Haechan walked out of his office one day, months before that, with the intention of "grabbing something important from somewhere" (or taking a break while making it pass as work) and heard the loud bang of the neighbour office door, he didn’t think that his life would go spiralling down from that moment on. It took him days. No, it took him weeks, maybe months, before the uncomfortable feeling creeping on him, making his spine shiver and palms sweat could be classified as something real by his brain. As a feeling. Sitting down on his chair, tired fingers tapping away at the keyboard for hours, he would suddenly feel this ungodly urge to get up and go to that office again as if an obscure force possessed him. To do what? To see a pair of angry eyes. Angry and full of pain. They were beautiful: round but also angled, dark but also light, absent as if looking at anything but their surroundings. Looking at something only they could see. That thing, sadly, was never Haechan. The boy tried everything to be seen by them. Being friendly, being funny, being helpful. Then he tried being rude. To his immense joy, the latter worked better, as if those eyes hatched such an enormous amount of anger that they had to spill some onto someone. And Haechan didn’t mind being that someone if it also meant being the object of those eyes’ attention at the same time. Then he realized that he didn’t want to see only the eyes. Something else was fighting for Haechan’s regard. Pink and soft looking, often stretched in a line, sometimes forming a pout. God, Haechan would have done everything to be able to touch those lips even once, even for a second. And he did it during his most feverish dreams. The first time, he woke up panting, ashamed, shaken to the core, the feeling of that soft skin still ghosting his own lips. The second time Haechan raised a trembling hand and touched the place where his subconsciousness created such a realistic scenario. He caressed it slowly, laying in that obscure slumber, silently, afraid to wake up his rational side. The third time he didn’t need to dream. He just imagined, shamelessly. His lips got kissed and his name was pronounced with such lust and desire to leave Haechan panting. So real, as if Doyoung whispered that while being beside Haechan in his room. It took Doyoung a few good weeks to call Haechan by his name in real life. When he finally did it, he wasn't even scolding him. No. From weird conjunction of stars, Haechan didn’t need to do something to gain Doyoung’s attention that day. He was in the photocopying room. One hand was mindlessly using the machines, the other was warmly hugging a mug of coffee. His slowly descending glasses were being pushed back by one of his fingers when a fluttering shadow appeared behind him. Haechan’s hands stopped as if his crawling skin could physically predict the future.   “Haechan”, Doyoung said. Just like that, sweet and soft. And the boy with that name let his coffee mug fall to the ground. Oh. “Haechan!” Doyoung repeated. “What the hell?” Yes. Yes. Haechan. That’s me. That’s my name on your lips. Say it again. “Haechan! You’re doing this on purpose now”. Doyoung stood tall with hands on his hips, looking at the way Haechan was failing to grab his mug, letting it comically slip from his hands, again and again, new coffee stains covering the carpet. I just love how my name sounds in your mouth. I don't want you to stop. Please. “Oops”, Haechan chuckled, the mask he carefully crafted for Doyoung easily slipping on his face, and despite everything, Doyoung rolled his eyes with a little smile himself. “You’re such an idiot”. Oh fuck. That. Haechan almost forgot. The boy could drown in the light that Doyoung’s face emitted when he was smiling. It would dissipate for a split second the darkness lingering around him and it was Haechan’s doing. Haechan did that. It made his little heart buzz every time and soon enough he started to fantasize about a day in which Doyoung would not have that expression line between his eyebrows anymore. And it arrived eventually. Haechan realized everything would go downhill for himself when he got blinded by Doyoung’s soul. He could see it before as well but not this way. Not while the older man's cheeks got red and his pupils were trembling. And Haechan understood soon what that was because a sick person recognizes another sick person easily. Was Haechan like that as well? Were his cheeks flushed and eyes glossy every time he looked at Doyoung? Ah, Doyoung’s soul. He took it out so suddenly and poured it into that girl’s hands. Haechan felt like dying. No. No, wait. It's supposed to go like this. I should be there. I worked so hard. I endured so much. It can’t end like this. This is my story. Isn’t it? And it was, but not the type of story Haechan imagined. In this universe it ended in him being alone, bones cold and empty, looking at Doyoung’s back as he carried his love in his arms. Haechan stayed back there, motionless, no arms holding him. He bit his lips for a little while, looking around the office as if not knowing on which planet he was. Then he crouched down and cried. He was tired. Yeah, he was just tired. It has been a long week and a long day. He was exhausted. That was the reason. Haechan, you're good. Just get a good night sleep. You’ll be fine. Now get up and go home. And he did that. Like a robot. He was alone inside the 4 am metro, blinding, fluorescent lights burning his fatigued eyes. His feet dragged him towards his apartment although he found himself knocking on Jaemin's door instead. Jaemin was a weird guy and Haechan loved him dearly. He just never slept. Every time Haechan called him, he somehow was wide awake doing some random shit. Haechan hoped that he didn't suddenly change his habits because he desperately needed some arms to crash into. And Jaemin opened the door as expected, a popsicle between his lips, eyes wide and bright. Haechan stepped inside and took the snack away, putting his lips on Jaemin's instead, pushing him against the wall, letting the coldness of Jaemin's tongue numb his thoughts. And he let the popsicle fall from his fingers when Jaemin wrapped him between his arms, guiding him towards the bedroom, no questions asked, no romance. I need a distraction right now, Haechan's whole being was screaming and Jaemin was good at reading people. Quickly and effortless, clothes sliding down, Haechan's mind finally lingered in a grey bliss as the only thing he could think of was the way Jaemin rolled his hips into him, sending shots of pleasure through his whole body. But then Haechan's slipped. "Doyoung-", he whimpered then gasped, eyes wide with horror and cheeks reddening. Jaemin didn't care if Haechan called other guys’ names but when Haechan put his palms on his face, chest rising and falling quickly, sobbing desperately, Jaemin stopped and sighed. He let Haechan go and rolled over, wrapping his shaking frame with his arms. "Do you want to talk?" he asked softly. Haechan shook his head, burying it into the other's chest. Jaemin stayed quiet, the only sound in the dark room being Haechan's irregular breaths, his fingers delicately drawing patterns on the other’s skin. "It's going to get better", Jaemin whispered after a while. "You're going to be seen by someone one day, just like you see everyone else”. It was weird how Jaemin always had the perfect thing to say. Though Haechan didn’t believe that, he had no force to argue. He stayed like that for the next hour, in silence, until the sun came out. Then he got up and let Jaemin prepare his breakfast that he barely touched. Haechan then borrowed the other's clothes and said it was fine for him to go to work that morning. You have to be sick to be able to call in sick, Haechan said. Because you’re someone that follows rules and does an honest job, Jaemin commented sarcasting with a raise of the brow. I just need to be busy, Haechan added and left.

Now, heading towards the acceptance, he regretted not staying home, maybe sleeping the whole day. Sleeping would be good but dreaming? He was afraid of that. The squeaking sound of Haechan’s shoes on the main floor tiles was so distressing that Haechan felt like taking them off and throw a tantrum in the middle of all those white collars. Blinking fast he sighed when he saw the new guy, an anonymous-looking young man looking around as if uncomfortable and slightly afraid. Haechan introduced himself in a monotone voice, letting the intern shake his hand then he turned around with a short 'follow me', not giving the other time to do anything else besides tailing his supervisor. Haechan has been babbling about the company for a good five minutes now, walking quickly through the corridors, showing rooms and people. He wasn't doing a very good job because he didn't care. The new guy, weirdly enough, didn't seem disoriented at all and Haechan shrugged internally. "And this is the terrace", the boy finally finished his monologue as they both stepped outside. It was a sunny day but the wind was quite strong, making Haechan close his eyes as his fluffy hair danced around his forehead. "Cute," the guy commented with a soft chuckle. Haechan looked around. Cute? It was kinda cute, he guessed. Too many ugly buildings around though and it wasn't the best-kept terrace. He turned his head to face the intern. "What's cute?" Haechan asked. It was the first word that guy said and Haechan wanted to hear him speak.  The intern was looking at him already instead of the surroundings and Haechan could have sworn that the dude's cheeks were flushed with a pink hue.    "You are", he said shyly, eyes big and twinkling. Haechan could only blink back. Wait. What? Did this guy just call him cute? Cute? "Listen, thanks, but you have to pay me respect. I'm your supervisor", Haechan replied trying hard to keep his voice stable. He wasn't annoyed but he couldn't just giggle, could he? Also, who calls strangers cute? On the workplace? What a weirdo. The guy’s expression shifted at Haechan’s words as if in slow motion. "Oh God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", the intern babbled and stuttered, cheeks going from pink to red, eyes darting around, not knowing where to look. Haechan has never seen someone that transparent with his feelings before and he could tell that he was very honest. Looking so naive, Haechan fought the urge to roll his eyes at him just to make him feel even more embarrassed. "I can't fire you personally or anything and I'm not your boss, but I can tell people to fire you", Haechan tried to sound cold even if the situation was rather funny. The look the guy gave to Haechan was of pure terror a for a split second Haechan felt almost sorry. But then the dude’s eyes darted to Haechan’s hair, still flying around his forehead. Haechan puffed annoyed and put one hand on top of his head as to stop the motion. The intern’s expression relaxed. "And what are you going to say? That it's because I called you cute?" he asked. His lips were back into a timid smile. Haechan was baffled. "What is so cute about me?", he sniffled, sure that he caught a cold already and switched the hand from his hair to his ear as the wind got even stronger. The intern took the question seriously. "You have curly purple hair-", he started then stopped as if that was enough to explain his comment, "-and well, your cheeks are full and now they're uhm red and it's... very cute. Also, your eyes are big and round and it's very cute-" 

Haechan groaned incredulously. 

"Oh my God! Stop saying cute", he spoke up to make his voice heard over the loud rumble of the wind, before turning on his heels and walking towards the terrace door. The intern’s cheeks turned pink again as he tried hard to not add whatever he wanted to say.

_______

Mark was told that he was somewhat of a dense guy. He disapproved. He just paid attention to what he wanted and disregarded the rest. So, if you asked him to show off the company to you, what tasks he had to do or where the bathroom was, he wouldn't know where to start. But if you asked him to tell you how many moles Haechan Lee the Supervisor had, he could answer in a second. It was weird and Mark wasn't a romantic person at all. But when he saw the guy walking out the elevator, eyebrows furrowed and dark circles underneath a pair of tired and red eyes, Mark felt a tingle in his stomach that he could only describe as love at first sight. Okay. Maybe not love. Crush at first sight? Attraction? Mark didn't know what that was and it made him so confused that he could only look at the guy's back when walking around the company as if it could give him some answers. Haechan, he said while letting Mark shake his hand. Of course. It fit him perfectly. Mark could see it - the sun - underneath his skin. Their fingers parted ways too quickly after shaking hands and Mark felt so paralyzed by the sudden tingle on his skin that he couldn’t fully pay attention. Was he also warm to the touch? Mark desperately wanted to find out. Was it weird? He was being weird. But God, he was so cute. Cute. Very cute. Cute. Cute. So fucking cute. 

This is all Mark’s mind was thinking about and when Mark thought about something he would just say it. Just like that. Cute. Don’t say it now though. Cute. I swear, Mark, shut up, for once. So cute. Please, not now. “Cute”, his tongue slipped. 

Goddammit. 

“What’s cute?” Haechan asked. The view. The view is cute. The view, Mark. Mark, say it. Mark, are you listening? The view. “You are”, Mark said instead and Haechan suddenly turned even cuter. Mark gasped, firstly because of the way Haechan’s cheeks turned red and his eyes round and big, then after a good full second that felt like an eternity, because of embarrassment. Oh shit. Fired. He was about to get fired. "God, sorry, I don't know what just happened. I apologize. It was inappropriate", Mark felt like running away. He woke up that morning with the intent of finally living the life he worked so hard for and there he was instead, calling strangers cute and making everyone uncomfortable for the sole reason of not being able to shut his mouth for once. Haechan looked embarrassed as he was though and that little detail made Mark hope that it wasn’t all over. Then Haechan shut some cold blinds on his own face and Mark knew that Haechan thought he was safe, that Mark wasn’t able to see his feelings underneath all that. It wasn’t an efficient job and Mark wondered if other people needed just that little act to not see Haechan anymore.

_______

"Good morning". Haechan saw the intern’s feet first before hearing his voice, but he didn't raise his face as suddenly something very important and urgent was being shown on the computer screen and he couldn't physically let his eyes fall on the way the guy wore his suit. 

It was terrible. Long legs and strong thighs on display right in front of his desk? Terrible, and he didn’t need any more distractions in the workplace. After the intern left for the day with a soft “see you on Monday”, both tired having spent most of the time walking around the company and explaining boring paperwork, Haechan had not been able to stop thinking about him the whole weekend. No. No, it wasn’t a crush or anything. Haechan was just, what’s the word? baffled, s h o c k e d, appalled. Some random guy called him cute and Haechan acted that way? Blushing timidly? Was he feeling that bad? Was he that sick? Unacceptable. He was Haechan, for fuck’s sake. And Haechan didn’t just blush. He could not slip anymore. "Yeah, hi Mike", he replied lazily, fingers typing something he didn’t really need to write. "It's Mark", the intern replied in a neutral tone. Haechan knew it was Mark. In fact, he also knew his full name. Mark Lee. Born on August 2nd, 1999. Toronto. Moved to Vancouver. Graduated from university a few years ago. Great grades. Interested in music and sports. Plays the guitar. Good boy. Loves animals. Does charity work regularly. Has a normal amount of friends. Doesn't know how to take selfies. No, he was not being weird. He just read his CV. 

Obviously. 

He was his supervisor. He needed to read that. The other info? He Googled him only to make sure that he wasn't a criminal. And the social media research? It was just to check on his personality. 

Obviously. 

What if he posted about illegal shit? He had to check every photo and tagged person. It was part of his job. He was single, even if Haechan didn't search for that in particular. Haechan loved his work a lot and he didn't care that he worked on that until 3 am, scrolling through his phone, drifting to sleep with Mark's selfies impregnated on his lids. It's just that he took his job seriously.  

Okay. Okay. 

It wasn’t the whole truth. Haechan was curious. Who calls you cute all of a sudden? Haechan had to know more. 

"Okay, Matt. What about you go and bring me a coff-", Haechan started but got interrupted by a hand, delicately placing a cup of steamy coffee in front of him. Haechan stared at it as if not understanding what that was then finally raised his eyes to meet Mark's gentle ones. He was smiling. "I stalked your Instagram. Full of food and coffee", Mark explained honestly with a shrug while walking around the desk and sitting down on his chair. They had to share a desk and Mark was as close as to touch elbows. Haechan hated having people so close to him when he didn't want them; especially at that moment, as Mark rested his head on his hand and just stared. 

Yeah, he stared. His eyes were piercing, looking at Haechan as if that’s what normal people do. Scanning him from head to toe, then looking into his eyes as if able to see something there. 

Haechan ignored him and looked away. "Stalking my social media is problematic, Mike". Mark chuckled lightly. "You did the same". Haechan's head snapped. "And why would I do that?”. Mark shrugged. "Close the tabs if you didn't want me to find out," he smiled staring at Haechan's laptop. 

The younger’s eyes suddenly widened and with a quick hand, he closed it in a second, cheeks hot with shame. He opened his mouth to say something to get himself out of that embarrassing situation but Mark thankfully didn't give him any time. 

"What are we doing today, sir?" he asked instead with a sly smile. "We write codes", Haechan replied quietly. "Fun", was Mark's comment. 

And they did that the whole morning, ignoring each other's knees as they sometimes brushed against each other. And they ignored the way their knuckles touched when both reached for their own cup of coffee. And Haechan ignored Mark's cologne while Mark ignored the way the computer lights made Haechan's skin glow. Mark loved programming, he always did, but that morning he thought that it would be nice to not be a programmer, just for a minute, just to be in a well-lit office and see how different Haechan would look under the sun instead.

_______

Haechan stared down at his sandwich, sitting still wrapped and untouched in his lap. Then he looked up at the blue sky and let the white fluffy clouds calm him. 

It happened close to the lunch break. 

"Spaghetti", Mark said suddenly. Onew had left already and in front of their office, everyone was walking the corridor heading out. Haechan was finally getting into the flow of working when Mark's hoarse voice startled him. "It's your favourite food, isn't it?" Mark asked, explaining himself. "Soup. I don't put things I love on my Instagram", Haechan replied. Mark looked pensive. "This is why there's no girlfriend photo there?" he wondered with a timid smile. Huh? What was that? So this is what was happening? This is the reason for the cute? 

Haechan had no force to being hit on, as much as Mark intrigued him. He had zero force and suddenly all the thoughts that Haechan buried away for a few days, came back like a bulldozer. 

Haechan bit his tongue before talking too much. "Maybe the girlfriend doesn't exist", he mumbled before getting up and grabbing his wallet.  

"Wait, are you going away?" Mark got up as well, surprised. "I thought we were going to eat together. I don't know other people-". "Well, I don't want to. Make some new friends", he replied and just walked away. No, he ran away and the first place he thought about was the terrace. It was the only uncontaminated place in the whole company. Doyoung has never been there before. 

And Haechan loved the clouds. He loved the wind moving them around fast. It was mesmerizing and in moments like those, he was able to not think about anything, until he was not Haechan anymore, until he was a cloud himself, floating in the blue sky. 

"Sorry, I didn't know this was your favourite place", a voice startled him for the second time that day. 

Haechan looked at his right where Mark was standing with a plate of food in his hands. He looked like a scared deer, turning around to leave Haechan alone, probably wondering what he did wrong but too anxious to confront Haechan about it.  

"It's alright. You can stay", Haechan spoke softly and resumed his cloud gazing. 

Mark stopped uncertain, standing still for a little while but then he walked towards Haechan and slowly sat down, resting his back on the wall as Haechan did, raising his eyes to watch the sky.

"Pretty", Mark commented and this time he was actually talking about the view. 

Haechan hummed, then after a moment of silence, he apologized. 

Mark began eating his food. "For what?" he asked with his mouth full. They both knew the reason but Haechan still appreciated Mark’s effort to showcase that he wasn’t mad at him. "For telling you that I don't want to eat together. I was being an ass for no reason", Haechan explained. Mark shook his head. "It's alright. I'm sorry if I came off clingy". Haechan huffed. "Funny. Usually, I'm the clingy one". 

Mark swallowed and Haechan looked at him. "I haven't been myself lately. But I promise I'm not an asshole". Mark smiled back kindly. "I know. I can see that". 

Haechan's expression flattered. 

Mark took another bite. "You look very warm. Your name is very appropriate for your personality. You're just… very cute", he added with a shy smile. 

Haechan continued staring at the other, unable to make a single sound. 

The other had a few other bites as if not noticing the way his words made Haechan feel then he finally raised his gaze. 

"Why are you not eating? Are you sick?" Mark inquired eyeing Haechan's sandwich. The boy finally sighed and looked up at the sky again. "Maybe". "Well, you'll get worse if you don't eat", Mark commented and grabbed the sandwich, unwrapping it and putting it into Haechan's hand with force. "I can't believe you're treating your supervisor like this. Calling him cute and forcing him to eat", Haechan stared at the food in his hand before taking a small bite, mostly to make Mark happy. The other shrugged. "You act like no one calls you cute every minute. Also, I am older than you. I can do that”. Haechan rolled his eyes. "I'm still your senior. You don't want to see me get mad. I can guarantee you that". Mark opened his mouth to say something dangerously similar to “cute” but then smiled instead, shaking his head. Haechan forced himself to keep a straight face. "If you say it again…", he warned the other. Mark cleaned his already clean fingers on a napkin then suddenly grabbed Haechan's cheek with two fingers. The boy's eyes got wide and he almost dropped his food, his mouth open in a surprised o. 

Mark smiled even more at his reaction, gulping his last piece of food while gently pinching Haechan's face as if he were a child. Then he let him go and got up, dusting his pants. "I didn't say anything this time", Mark explained innocently. 

Haechan looked up at him, still shocked. 

"I'll see you in the office. Finish your food", Mark told him and left. Haechan could distinctly hear Mark comment "so fucking cute" while he was descending the stairs.

_______

That night Haechan fell into his usual decadent slumber. He was almost fully unconscious, the twilight sleep making space for a depraved and troubled dream. Fingers twitching and muscles quivering, Haechan’s mind transformed his day yearning in darkness. Images of eyes and lips tormented him again. It has always been the same pattern, yet something new derailed the boy’s focus that night. Little details. The roundness of the eyes, the form of the lips, the touch of the fingers, the voice. That voice sounded different and it whispered something Haechan has never dreamt about before. A single word, soft but sensual, repeated again and again in Haechan’s ear. 

That morning, after a very long time, the boy woke up with a new name on his lips.

_______

Mark sometimes thought that everyone was just stupid besides himself. 

Not because of an unhealthy superiority complex or something, but because he couldn’t understand how everyone could be that blind. 

“Oh, Lara, I love your new blazer”, Haechan would say while walking around the company with Mark following suit. Poor Lara would blush and be genuinely happy about the compliment. But Mark could see that Haechan thought it was atrocious. And Adam’s stuttering speech a well. Oh, and Joseph’s wrinkly newborn. 

However, it wasn’t this fake persona Haechan had that made Mark uneasy. It was the one he would wear when talking about himself. Oh, I slept very well last night. No, I don’t need any help. Yes, everything is fine, what do you mean? Smiles and laughs and sarcastic comments. 

Mark wanted to know. He wanted to get closer and dust off the misty layer on Haechan’s eyes. 

Maybe Mark thought too highly of himself. Maybe it was his ego talking. 

I’m going to be the one to help Haechan, that’s the only thing he could think about. 

And lately, during sleepless nights, Mark would beat himself up about it. 

It’s not your business, Mark. You want this to feel a good person. 

Except, he would then frown and hug his pillow tighter, getting annoyed at himself. 

No, I would want it even it wasn’t me to help Haechan out. I just want to see him happy. 

Yeah. This sounds good. 

So he would drift away to sleep, peaceful, knowing that he was selfless. 

Alas, it took very little to Mark to realize that he wasn’t that selfless as he thought. 

Mark raised his eyes when Haechan’s abrupt manners opened the office door with a kick. “Haechan, you look good today”. The other smirked. “I always look good. What do you mean?” As if the literal sun entered the room. Mark was blinded. “Did something good happen?”, he watched Haechan’s hair bounce at his every step, like a little seedling gently moved by the breeze. Haechan’s smile widened as he sat down, rolling around in his seat, pure energy sprinkling from every pore. “So I guess the answer is yes,” Mark found himself smiling as well, although a bitter taste pasted his tongue on the palate as he spoke. “I just remembered how much serotonin a good fuck gives you,” Haechan opened his computer and started working on his tasks, not paying attention to Mark’s face. 

Oh. 

Mark hated it. Oh, he hated it so much. God, he hated it. 

The boy tried hard to not think about Haechan that day, resulting in him thinking about Haechan all day. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about Haechan. Don't think about his body touched by somebody else. 

It was almost lunchtime when Mark finally broke the silence. “So, now you’re dating someone?” Haechan raised an eyebrow, eyes still too focused on his computer to give his full attention to Mark. “What? No. Why?”, he mumbled distractedly. Mark blinked for a few seconds. Haechan finally processed and laughed. “You’re kinda sweet Mark. I just got dicked down, that’s all”, he got up and stretched his arms up with a whiny yawn. “Come on,” he lightly hit the other’s shoulder, “I think today’s menu is soup”.

______

Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark. 

It was as if Haechan was going crazy. 

It was just a dream. A single dream. 

When did this happen? How was it possible? 

“Fuck, Haechan, you’re-”, Jaemin gulped, his adam apple going up and down inside his stretched out throat just like Haechan’s body moved on top of him. “Yeah?” the directly concerned boy smiled. “-crazy today”, Jaemin concluded. “Who made you this horny?” Haechan bit his lower lip, hating his mind for not leaving that thought out, even if for a single second. “Call me--”, he ignore the other’s question, cheeks violently turning red. Jaemin groaned at the way Haechan sunk deeper on him in the process. “Call you what?”, he asked breathless, fingers tightening around Haechan’s painfully hard length. “Cute”, the boy finally whispered. And Jaemin said it, again and again until that word replaced Mark’s name from Haechan’s head.

_______

That day’s menu was indeed soup which only added to Haechan’s general euphoria. Mark walked one step behind him, troubled by the double sword his feelings formed inside his heart. His eyes were only on the younger’s face and Mark could only sigh every few seconds. 

Oh, I’m falling in love. I’m falling in love. 

Lost in his melodramatic thoughts, Mark didn’t notice when Haechan suddenly stopped.  “Hey, boys. Haechan,” a dude greeted generally before locking eyes with the younger one.  Haechan rolled his eyes and made a step back from where that guy was. The dude’s smile flattered as if annoyed at that obvious showcase of hatred towards him but kept his fake expression on as he looked at Mark instead. “So, I’m organizing this party downtown at the Garages. Do you want to come?”, he asked.  

Mark furrowed his eyebrows and eyed Haechan to see what the deal was about.  

Haechan huffed. “Mark doesn’t like parties and neither do I, Jungwoo. Thank you”, he replied snarkily while making a step to continue walking. 

Jungwoo smirked. “Says the party animal. You never mentioned it to me while I had you on my-”, but Haechan interrupted him, hitting his chest with the back of his hand. 

Jungwoo chuckled with satisfaction. 

“Oh, so the boy doesn’t have to know?” he asked indicating to Mark, faking innocence.”

Mark felt his jaw muscle flinch and a sudden urge to punch that dude in the face made his fists almost tremble. 

“The boy doesn’t like the way you’re making his friend uncomfortable right now”, he spoke with a cold voice not breaking eye contact. “Whatever happened between you before, now Haechan doesn’t want to see you again and certainly he doesn’t want to come to your party”. 

Haechan opened his mouth to say something but Jungwoo's laugh interrupted him. 

“Oh, but he does want to see me again and come to my party. Don’t you, Haechan?” the dude asked. 

“Of course I don’t, Jungwoo. Get fucked”, Haechan replied quickly, eyes rolling in their sockets, feet turning direction and walking away. 

“I bet I will”, Jungwoo shrugged with a little smile, throwing one finger gun at Mark.  “By Haechan”, he whispered with a wink while leaving him alone in the corridor. 

To Mark’s horror, despite those two’s abrasive conversation, he could definitely see that as a silent promise.

So Mark went there as well. 

Why? He didn’t know. He liked to think that he was concerned about Haechan’s safety. 

That Jungwoo guy had some rancid vibes and Mark hated the idea of the two together. Because he was concerned for his safety. 

Not because he was jealous or anything. 

Haechan could do whatever he wanted and sleep with whoever he wanted to, but what if, just what if, Haechan changed his mind and chose Mark over the Jungwoo dude? 

Mark could do that. 

Mark wasn’t self-centred but he still realized that Haechan deserved better and he could provide that. 

If that was Haechan needed to soothe the darkness in his eyes, Mark could do that.

But Haechan wasn’t there and neither was Jungwoo and the thought of that man’s hands on Haechan’s skin made Mark’s guts twirl on themselves. 

He looked around, frantically, breathing the sweat-impregnated air, trying to avoid being hit by people’s sticky shoulders. Until he started to feel sick, not only because of the loud music and blinding lights but also for some obscure reason, grabbing his throat and choking him. 

He had to drown that down.

_______

When Haechan arrived Mark was surrounded by people, eyes closed, face up exposing his neck, laughing and screaming, jumping and moving his body as Haechan has never seen someone do before. 

His legs were nicely on display in a pair of severely ripped black jeans that Haechan had no idea Mark liked to wear. 

The younger boy was so concentrated on the way a plain white T-shirt could look so good on a person that he noticed too late the way Mark directed his eyes towards him. 

He was far away and Haechan couldn’t decipher the other's expression but it didn’t matter as Mark quickly made his way to where the younger boy nervously stood. 

Mark was drunk. A lot. 

But he still somewhat fluidly avoided the crowd as if dancing until getting as close as hovering above Haechan. The boy had never noticed that Mark was taller until he had to raise his face to look up, his back and palms pressed against the wall. He didn’t notice when he walked backwards either. 

“Haechan”, Mark said his name with such worry to make the other’s heart beat like crazy. “Are you okay? Where have you been?”, or that's what Haechan deciphered from his lips since the music was so loud that his ribcage felt about to be ripped apart. “Home. I’ve just arrived”, Haechan yelled and Mark got even closer, giving his ear to the boy’s lips to hear better. 

Haechan couldn’t do anything else besides inhaling his odour. Mark was a little sweaty and his breath smelled of alcohol, but Haechan has never found someone sexier than him at that moment. 

His eyes were dark under his black curls and his lips looked swollen as if someone sucked on them. Haechan felt like prey and unconsciously pressed his body against the wall even harder.

“And where’s Jungwoo?”, Mark’s voice tingled Haechan’s earbuds. “I have no idea. Why would I know?”, Haechan replied, acting as if he didn’t realize why Mark was behaving like that. 

It made Haechan’s palms sweat. 

He thought about that a lot, at the way Mark got defensive of him in front of Jungwoo, at the way Mark’s expression darkened even after Haechan told them that he had no intention to go to the party, at the way Mark has been looking at Haechan a lot, at the way Haechan couldn’t just stop thinking about Mark for a single second either.  

He came to the party because of that. Haechan’s mind was running again and he wanted to stop it. And also because he played with his phone all day, looking at Mark’s number for a long time. 

Mark would have replied but did Haechan really want it? He was such a sweet person and Haechan didn’t dare to contaminate him with his presence. Mark didn’t deserve to be used as Haechan needed. 

So he went to the party, ready to contaminate somebody else instead. Who knew that Mark was there waiting for him? 

“I’ve been thinking about you the whole night”, Mark talked again after staring at Haechan as if trying to understand the younger one’s thoughts. Just like he has been for the past few months, making Haechan feel small and naked. "Yeah, I bet. While letting those people grind on you?" Haechan replied sarcastic trying hard to conceal his shaking voice. 

Mark got closer, bold and cocky, putting his hands on the wall, caging Haechan between his arms, leaning in and whispering into his ear. "Yeah, I was imagining you grinding on me", his confession tickled Haechan’s ear and the boy tried to move his head away on the side, afraid to do something he would regret, but Mark's hand was there and his head had nowhere to go. It wasn't right. 

Haechan was sober while Mark was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. He had to go away, push him back, but his limbs weren't cooperating. Mark's hand though was working just fine and it gently grabbed Haechan's face, turning it into his direction. 

"Haechan, please, let me kiss you", he begged, his breath caressing Haechan’s lips. 

The boy gulped down surprised, shivering with desire, fighting with himself. He put his hands on Mark's chest, with the intent of lightly pushing him away, but he was made of iron. No, Mark, no, please. You’re too precious to me for this. 

"You don't know what you're talking about", Haechan mumbled. 

Mark breathed heavily. His jaw muscles tightened. Then he put his head down as if trying to gain forces. 

"Yeah, sorry, okay okay, I'm leaving", he retrieved his arms and let them fall to his sides like dead flesh. 

Haechan looked at them with some relief, suddenly feeling exposed and cold, even if the club's air was so hot that it was hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just him having breathing difficulties. Haechan had no idea. 

"No, wait", his lips betrayed him. "Just-", Haechan interrupted himself, eyes squeezed together as if already regretting what he was about to say, unsure, holding Mark's wrist with both hands. Then he opened his eyes again. 

Mark was looking at him his heavy lids. His gaze wandered from his face to his exposed neck, then to his collarbones and chest. Mark was undressing him without touching anything and Haechan felt like going crazy. 

"-just a kiss. Okay? It's going to be a short kiss", Haechan continued, unable to believe he was actually saying that. 

But there was no harm in that. A little kiss. Just a harmless little kiss. Like the ones you'd have in college during stupid games. No one thought about those in the mornings.

But when Mark's lips curved in a little smirk and his body got as close as to press on Haechan's one again, the younger boy knew that it wasn't going to be just a kiss. Not for him at least. And not only he would think about it in the morning. He probably would think about it for a long time. And he was right. It was indeed memorable. Slow and careful but not timid. Mark cupped the other’s face, palm pressed on his jaw, fingers as far as touching his neck and ear, the other grabbing his hips, pulling them against his. Haechan’s head felt light and he couldn't fathom how Mark managed to have so much control when he was about to lose it all. And then it became even worse as Mark slipped his tongue inside of Haechan’s mouth and the younger boy had to tighten his grip around Mark’s torso. He whined into Mark's mouth, making the other hum back, picking up the pace, biting his lower lip and sucking on it, letting his hand fall from Haechan's face to his neck, then chest, then to his stomach, grazing the skin separated by Mark's fingers only by his thin button-down. 

Haechan had to stop him. It was going too far. That was a mistake. They still had to work together. There’s a reason why Haechan avoided talking to the coworkers he fucked before. Mark wasn't realizing that but Haechan did. He had to be responsible. 

Stop him, Haechan. Stop him. 

"Mark, wait", he broke off the kiss when Mark's hands reached his jeans button. The boy looked down at him, panting, eyes half-closed: he was begging Haechan to let him continue. 

Haechan grabbed his shirt and dragged him around the corner, into the shadows. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?", he warned him, shutting his brain off. "Okay", Mark replied quickly putting his mouth on Haechan's again as if unable to be away from it for too long. And he put his hands on Haechan's jeans again as well, opening the button, letting the zip fall slowly, tucking his hand underneath Haechan's boxers, feeling his soft and hot skin, wrapping his fingers around him tightly, not letting the struggling Haechan to break off the kiss to moan. And he didn't even last too long. The boy came shuddering all over Mark's fist after a few good strokes and the older finally let him press his face into his chest. 

Shit, he had never lasted this little. What the hell.

Haechan was fucking embarrassed and if Mark wouldn't have been too drunk to remember anyway, he would have just run away to hide in that exact moment. 

"Fuck", Mark cursed under his breath, feeling Haechan’s hot release on his skin, nudging at Haechan's temple with his lips while the other came down from his high.   "Oh, fuck, you're so hot like this, Haechan. And cute. Shit, you're so cute, I'm going crazy", he babbled before letting Haechan's cock go and trying to bring his fingers to his lips. "Oh no", Haechan gulped trying to stop him. "Mark, don't. You touched all sort of things in the club with that hand", and Mark stopped for a second as if processing the information before dropping to his knees and tasting Haechan directly. 

The boy opened his mouth in a silent gasp and he was still so aroused that feeling Mark's tongue made him hard again in a second. 

"Fuck", Haechan swore loudly, pressing his fingers into the wall behind him, letting his head fall back, feeling himself grow harder inside Mark's mouth. 

He didn't expect it. He didn't expect any of this. Innocent and soft Mark Lee sucking him off like no one has done before in the dark corner of a club? Haechan the slut coming in two seconds and getting hard again soon after? Past Haechan would have laughed, yet there he was, moaning Mark's name like a mantra, coming for the second time in minutes like a little virgin. 

It was no dream. It was a reality. 

Mark didn't let him go and Haechan felt like flying as his cum descended inside Mark's throat. And then he looked down right in time to catch a glimpse of Mark's eyes, looking up at him, letting his cock out with a lewd plop. "Mark, where did you learn that?", Haechan asked suddenly exhausted. The boy licked his lips and held onto Haechan to get up, shakily. "Was that good? It was my first time doing it", he mumbled with a smile before resting his head on Haechan's shoulder, the cocktail he had right before adding to his brain fog.

_______

Mark woke up to the sound of a heartbeat. It was a comforting sound. Deep and regular. 

He groaned softly as his lids realized they were getting hit by bright and irritating sunlight. Then he opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the windows first, vision blurry, then on the plant underneath it, then on the young man underneath him. 

Mark's muscles got a spasm and woke up completely as his brain finally made sense of what was going on. Meaning that his face was resting on Haechan's chest. Bare chest. And his own torso, bare torso, was wrapped by the boy's arms. 

Oh fuck, he thought. Oh shit. 

"It's too late in the morning to run away", Haechan mumbled, waking up softly as well. 

Mark froze as he was trying to get up. He was propped up on an elbow when Haechan opened his eyes and Mark felt his breath hitch. 

Haechan was there, pillow adorned with his luscious locks lying all around his head like a halo, chocolate eyes warmed by the sun shining through the windows and his skin, God, he looked like an angel. 

"I'm not going away", Mark lied, surprising himself by how deep and hoarse his voice sounded like. "Fuck, you're so cute right now", he whispered soon after, unable to control himself. 

Haechan's eyes got wider at Mark's words. He expected Mark to freak out, and Mark was freaking out inside a lot, but having Haechan like that, underneath him, vulnerable and beautiful as never before, made Mark feel peaceful at the same time. 

This is all he wanted in life. 

The older managed to keep it together for a few other seconds, trying to look confident, but when Haechan's cheeks reddened with blush, Mark lost it and blushed as well, rolling away, grabbing a pillow to hide his face in with a scream. 

"I can't believe it", his voice came out muffled. "Oh my God", he yelled quietly. 

Haechan started to chuckle embarrassed. "What an idiot". 

"How-", Mark removed the pillow enough for one eye to poke out. "How far-", he stuttered. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, faking nonchalance. 

"Just oral", he whispered while getting up and putting his feet on the ground, turning his back to Mark, unable to look at him in the face either. 

"Oh", the other sounded weirdly disappointed. Haechan pinched the base of his nose. That man was sending such mixed messages. "You did dry hump my ass if that makes things better", Haechan spoke through his teeth, embarrassed out of his mind, grabbing the bottle of water he kept on his nightstand. "I'm sorry. You deserve to get fucked properly", Mark replied quietly as if thinking at loud, making Haechan choke on his water and spit it all around the room. 

Mark sat up quickly and placed a hand on Haechan's shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

The choking boy turned around to face him. 

"I thought you'd be all embarrassed about this", he commented while drying his wet lips with the back of his hand. 

"I am!" Mark's eyes got wide and his red ears confirmed it, but it was still not what Haechan expected. 

"I mean", Haechan hesitated, unsure of what words to use, "I thought you'd regret it in the morning. You were really drunk last night and you had no idea what you were doing”. 

Mark's face visibly darkened. 

"Do you regret it?", he asked. 

Haechan went on with his phrase ignoring Mark’s question. "-like I was sober and I was worried that maybe I should have-". 

"Haechan". 

Mark's voice was so deep and serious that Haechan's heart started to beat faster upon hearing him calling his name like that. "Answer me. Do you regret it? Did I- fuck - did I do something wrong?", Mark asked ruffling his hair with one hand. He looked so worried and distressed that Haechan for a second didn't know what to say. 

"No", the younger finally shook his head. "No", he repeated. "I was aware of everything and I made my choice consciously but you-", Haechan hesitated again.  "Me too", Mark spoke up, nodding. "I remember everything until you helped me to get out of the club. After I sucked y-".

"Don't say it", Haechan stopped him with a raised palm. 

Mark chuckled embarrassedly. 

If only Haechan knew how cute he was being in that moment, faking his serious face and steading his voice. Mark would have wanted to see Haechan confess just how weak he was. 

"So you, like, you wanted it? Not because you were just drunk and I happened to be there?", Haechan asked timidly. Haechan couldn't believe he was so shy to talk about sex with someone. It has never happened before. Nothing he did with Mark happened before. 

Mark gulped down. "I wanted it, yeah. I didn't do it because I was drunk. I did it thanks to that. I don't think I would have had the courage otherwise", he explained. "But I'm also sorry. It mustn't be nice to- like--uh, you know, with a drunk person", he stuttered, eyes closing and opening as he thought about the words to use. 

Haechan looked down, shyly. "You were very hot actually", he whispered back, scratching the back of his head. 

"Haechan," Mark finally found his voice after a moment of shocked silence. "I swear to God, I would take you-", but interrupted himself abruptly. 

Haechan looked at him flustered. 

Mark cleared his voice. 

Then he shook his head. 

"No", he chuckled at himself. "Nothing, never mind", he added suddenly getting up, the covers sliding down his naked body. 

Haechan looked at it. He had looked at it the whole night. That night he kissed every inch of that skin and listened to Mark's soft moans. And Haechan realized that it wasn't a hookup. At all. Not for him. But Mark didn't remember that part and Haechan didn't want to tell him. If Haechan had to think about it for the next month, so be it. It was all on him. He let himself go too far and he wasn't talking about the physical aspect. It was all his fault if his heart was aching to see Mark get dressed instead of lying beside him, cuddling, or better, doing what Mark didn't dare to tell him.

_______

"Tomorrow we forget about this, okay?".

Forgetting. 

Mark wanted to forget but he couldn't do it. Not the day after and not on Monday morning, seeing Haechan's pretty lips so close to him and not being able to kiss them. 

Mark lied when Haechan asked him what he remembered. 

Well, not entirely, because he did forget some parts. 

But he was definitely lucid when Haechan went down on him, slowly, after kissing his lips, then his neck, sucking on his skin, then his chest and stomach as Mark wrapped Haechan's hair around his fingers. The boy asked multiple times if Mark was okay with that until Mark had to basically beg to just suck him off already. And God, he was so cute doing it. He would never forget how that felt. Divine. His head was so light as if zero oxygen got to it, every drop of blood concentrated inside of Haechan's warm and wet mouth instead. 

And he was staring at that mouth now, as Haechan explained the work to do for the day. Mark wasn't even that horny. No. He just wanted to hold him again and softly press his lips on Haechan's plump ones. 

"Tomorrow we forget about this". 

Haechan was sober when he said that. He meant it. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it. Right? Should he ask? Haechan, did you forget? Do you want to forget? Because I don't. 

And I can't. 

"Mark", Haechan snapped his fingers in front of him making the boy jolt. "Focus", he ordered. "What are you thinking about?".

You. I'm thinking about you. You. You. I've been thinking about you for days, Haechan. 

"Lunch", Mark shrugged. Haechan rolled his eyes. "What an idiot".

_______

That afternoon Haechan was in a relatively good mood. 

He should have known that the most peaceful days could bring the most terrible storms though. 

So he jolted at the sound of a voice he almost forgot how it sounded like. 

"Haechan, I thought you died or something". 

The boy in question looked up from his computer to see a pair of feline eyes. 

They were bright and amused. Then he saw the lips. Soft and pink stretched in a sweet smile. 

Doyoung was still like a house with all the lights on, but now it wasn’t empty anymore. Now everyone was home. This house was full of people, all happy and content. 

Haechan was so glad. He truly was. This is what he has always wanted to see since first locking eyes with that man. But he also felt suddenly miserable. Miserable and confused. 

His heart shouldn't have skipped a beat like that. Not anymore. 

"I did die and I just got back from hell", he replied, trying to sound as snarky as possible. It wasn't entirely a lie. 

"What about you? You also went missing". Doyoung blushed subtly at the innuendo and Haechan felt the urge to punch the table. Or himself. "I've been busy", Doyoung replied softly. "So you went to paradise instead, I see", Haechan commented with a smile hoping that no one noticed how fake it was.

_______

"A man can't have his alone time in peace. What do you want?", Haechan rolled his eyes while Mark sat down beside him, resting his back on the rooftop wall, looking in front of him at the blue sky. 

It was a sunny day with a slight breeze, enough for Haechan's fringe to wave gently. 

Mark loved it when the wind ruffled Haechan's hair but he couldn't bring himself to look at the younger boy. Not at that moment. 

"I didn't know", Mark whispered. "What?", Haechan's voice came out irritated but he didn't care. 

"That you were in love", Mark added. 

Haechan choked on his breath. 

"I'm not", he crossed his arms on his chest and closed his eyes as if sunbathing. Conversation over, it meant. An angry bronzing session. 

Mark finally looked at him then, feeling safe as he wasn't seen back. He watched the way Haechan’s skin glowed under the warm rays. Mark thought about how it would feel under his fingertips but he wasn’t sure. He touched it before but now he couldn’t remember it. Mark wanted to raise one hand and touch his cheek again, this time fully concentrating on the feeling. He wanted to let it slide down the boy’s jawline, feeling the sharp bone, then on his neck where the angry pulsating artery pumped blood at a crazy speed. Then he wanted to hear Haechan’s soft breath as his hand unbuttoned his shirt, this time feeling his heartbeat. Mark wanted it to be fast and only for him. For Mark. 

It all made sense now. But why does it have to be like that? What should Mark do? What do people do in this scenario? 

Was he thinking about this Doyoung guy? Has Haechan been thinking about other men? The whole time? While Mark was thinking about him? 

Was he imagining kissing that man's lips while Mark's mind was full of Haechan and Haechan only? 

Of course, he would. 

What was Mark thinking? Isn’t this what he accepted? Isn’t this what he decided to adventure in? Why was Mark suddenly so hurt about Haechan behaving as he anticipated him to do? 

We forget about this in the morning and Mark was certain now that Haechan actually did forget. 

"Does he know?", Mark asked after a while. Haechan snorted. "Of course he doesn't". "He doesn't know what?".

The other boy sighed at the trap. 

"Just leave me alone", he ordered. And Mark actually got up and left. 

Haechan's cheeks got wet right when it started to rain.

_______

"Mark, if you have something to say, just say it". 

It's been a few days of Mark not talking but still looking at Haechan as if about to burst in a monologue anytime soon. 

Haechan had been brusque with him before, but it never came to Mark not talking to him. 

The younger boy wasn’t stupid. It was obvious what was going on with Mark but Haechan didn’t have the force to deal with it sooner. 

"I don't have anything to say", Mark replied. "Do you have anything to say?".

Haechan rested his back on the chair and looked at Mark, irritated. 

"Okay, we need to sort this thing out. We can't work like this". "Like this how? We're working just fine", Mark didn't raise his eyes from the computer. "Mark, you've been writing and deleting the same line for a while now", Haechan indicated the screen with his chin. "Well, maybe something is going on with me but it doesn't have anything to do with you, so we don't need to talk about anything", Mark replied finally starting a new line. 

So Mark was able to lie as well, huh?

"Mark", Haechan lowered his voice. "Do you perhaps have feelings for me?", he whispered. 

"What?!" Mark yelled. 

Onew jolted on his seat. 

"Keep your voice down, you dumbass", Haechan put one hand on his thigh. Mark looked down at it then at Haechan's face. 

Haechan retrieved his hand back. 

Mark breathed heavily before talking. 

"It's just--”, he rested his back on the chair as well, “I've never been with someone like that before and I'm so confused right now, like, I don't know if I have feelings for you or just--like, I need closure?", he questioned as if talking to himself. 

Haechan was surprised that Mark told him all that. 

"You mean that you're a virgin?", the younger asked incredulously. "Uhm, I can hear you", Onew said. "Then get your ass up and take a stroll, Owen", Haechan spoke up. 

Mark flinched at his sudden and loud voice. 

Their colleague shook his head as if not believing he was dealing with some weirdos and got out of the office mumbling something about gen z people. 

"I am not a virgin. I meant hookups", Mark explained after a little pause while his cheeks acted like a virgin's. "You said you've never sucked someone before", Haechan raised one eyebrow. "It's alright if you're a virgin, Mark. You just have to tell me and-”, he interrupted himself as if realizing what they actually did, “-fuck, you had to tell me before as well. God, I acted recklessly, I should hav-".

"I am not a virgin! Stop saying that. I've never sucked before because I've been eating pussy, okay?", Mark raised his voice.

Haechan blinked at him. "So you're confused about your sexuality?" 

Mark rolled his eyes defeated. "I know what I like! I'm not confused. Just hear me out!" "You said you were confused just a minute ago", Haechan said. "But not about my sexuality. Because of the hookup!"  "Why are you yelling?", Haechan yelled.  "I'm not yelling!", Mark yelled back.  "You're arguing with me right now". "Because you're not listening! I don't know how I'm feeling about you because I've never slept around before. I-- just--don't like it", Mark stuttered.  "Then why did you sleep with me?", Haechan was exasperated.  Mark whined. "Because I liked you already”.  "So you do like me. You have feelings for me", Haechan raised his hands as if talking with a fool. 

The other shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable. 

"Don't all people like their hookup partners though? Like, would you sleep with someone if they were ugly as fuck? I don't think so. You still need to be attracted to them a little". 

Haechan sighed while massaging his temples. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. Didn't you have crushes before? Don't you know what it feels like to be in love?".

Mark groaned tiredly. "I did. And I know. But this is different", he spoke with a softer tone. 

Haechan sighed. "So what? Am I supposed to help you figure that out? If you like me or not?". 

Mark straightened his tie and focused on his computer again as if the conversation was over. 

"Listen, you wanted to hear me talk, so I did". 

The younger boy stared at the other’s fingers as they started to type something, probably useless. 

"Do you even want to like me? Like what's your expectation?". 

Mark’s fingers stopped and he remained silent for a little while. "Well, you like somebody else, so it wouldn't be nice if I had feelings for you, would it?". 

Haechan prolonged the silence a bit. "I'm getting out of it".

Mark turned his head to him. 

That was a lie, Mark could see it. A blatant lie. 

"Do you want me to like you?", he asked. His voice was soft and low. 

Haechan thought about it for a second. He didn’t know what to say. 

Mark sighed, unable to wait like that, and closed his eyes, reclining back on his seat again. 

"I like you, Haechan. Okay? I like you, fuck. I don't care if you like somebody else". 

Haechan’s heart started to beat even faster than before. 

“Was this the problem, then? You were jealous?”, Haechan’s voice came out quieter than he intended. 

Mark opened his eyes and looked down at his hands clasped together. 

He shrugged. 

“You don’t have to worry about me. I just needed to say it. I’m not asking for anything from you”, Mark directed his gaze towards Haechan. 

He looked so serious that it made Haechan’s cheeks get pink again. 

Mark’s eyes trembled imperceptibly at that reaction but he didn’t dare to say anything about it. 

He cleared his voice as Haechan couldn’t bring himself to add anything either and got back to work.

_______

It was very late at night. 

Haechan had no idea what time it was but it was not a time normal people would be awake at. 

He fidgeted under the covers, restless and irritated. He felt hot and his mind wouldn’t let him sleep. 

His hands found his phone after a while, ready to click on Jaemin’s name. But then his thumb slid down and it stopped over Mark instead. 

Haechan stared at the bright screen until he felt his eyes tear up from lack of blinking then just pressed it with a huff. 

Bad person Haechan. You’re a bad person. You’re such a bad person. A mistake. You did a mistake a now you were about to make another one.

“Yes”, Mark’s rough voice interrupted Haechan’s train of thoughts. 

The younger boy opened his mouth to breathe better and he let that monosyllable caress his ears even after the sound already died. 

“Hey”, Haechan whispered, closing his eyes, helping his other senses to get sharper. 

Mark groaned softly and shifted in his bed, probably turning in a more comfortable position. “Haechan”, he said in the same sleepy and deep voice and Haechan had to make an effort to not whimper into the phone. 

Why was Haechan so affected by this boy but at the same time so afraid of him? He shouldn’t have let Mark get so involved. Haechan should have put a wall between them the first time his lips said that first “cute”, then another one when he blatantly saw the way Mark’s eyes couldn’t leave him, then another one that night in the club, and another one when Mark asked him if Haechan wanted to be liked. And now as well. Just end the call. 

But he couldn’t. 

His walls were not strong enough for Mark and Haechan was a bad person. 

He liked it. He liked a lot. Haechan wanted more and more even if he could give back only darkness. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, Haechan said after waiting a few seconds to recollect himself. 

Mark hummed as if telling him that it was alright. “Is everything okay?” he asked and Haechan noticed the way Mark was slowly waking up by the growing concern in his voice. “Yeah, yeah, everything is good. I just…”, Haechan hesitated. 

Why did he even call Mark in the first place? Did he need company? Rude. Did he miss him? Gross. He was a bad person, using people when he needed, disregarding their feelings? Yeah. 

“I wanted to speak to someone”, he decided to be honest. 

Mark’s breath got louder for a second as if he laughed lightly. “I’m glad you thought of me, then. Unless you called other people first and no one replied”. 

Haechan smiled, feeling like a teenager talking to his first crush, then stopped, starting to hate himself. “No. You’re the only one I called”, he confessed. 

What was he doing? Bad. Bad Haechan. Bad. 

Mark went silent and Haechan listened to his breath for a while.

“You confuse me so much, Haechan”, Mark’s voice was a whisper and Haechan swallowed nothing, feeling his throat suddenly dry. 

Yeah. It was not fair. Not when Mark told him how he was feeling and Haechan couldn’t do the same. 

“But I’m not complaining”, Mark added before Haechan could apologize and end the call, finally getting to his senses. “I don’t care, Haechan. I like you so much. You can do whatever you want to me”. 

Haechan bit his lower lip. God, he hated himself. 

“Mark-”. “Would you do something for me?”, the boy interrupted him. “Mm? What?”. “Would you-”, Mark stopped, breath suddenly quicker, “-would you-uhm-- shit”, he repeated softly before chuckling, slightly embarrassed. 

Haechan’s skin got goosebumps, wondering if he understood what Mark wanted. His heartbeat started to pump blood at a crazy speed at it all went in a single place. 

So he did what Mark asked, even if he would end up being wrong, only because he wanted it too. He slid a hand under his t-shirt, slowly, until reaching his nipples, and whined into the phone. 

Mark went completely silent for a second. 

Haechan whined again a little louder. 

“Fuck, Haechan”, Mark’s voice trembled. "Are you-- are you touching yourself?”.

Haechan hummed. “My nipples”, he simply replied as he pinched them, playing with himself, feeling his boxers get tighter at every stroke. “Oh fuck”, Mark’s rough voice made Haechan squeeze his eyes together and open his mouth in a silent moan. 

They were both panting. Haechan couldn’t tell if Mark was just lying there and imagining or if he started to shyly let his hand slide south as well. 

“How does it feel?”, Mark inquired with a shaken voice and Haechan realized he still had too much control to be rubbing one out as well. “It feels so good, Mark”, the younger one replied, adding soft swears as his fingers got under the fabric of his boxers, letting the elastic hit his abdomen once, loudly, making sure Mark heard it as well. “Hmm -a-ah”, he wrapped his cock with his hand, pumping it slowly a few times, pressing his thumb on the slit. 

He didn’t need to exaggerate any sound. Knowing that Mark was listening could make Haechan go over the edge alone. 

“Haechan, you make me go so fucking crazy”, Mark’s shaking voice made Haechan bite his lower lip. “You too, Mark”, he confessed in the cloud of sensations. 

Then listened to the way the other boy’s bed sheets irrefutably shifted and the bed creaked and his breath hitched as he started to pleasure himself to the sound of Haechan’s whimpers and the image he had of him.  

They didn’t talk anymore. There was no need to and they weren’t able to either. Not having Mark near him, made Haechan last longer but it was still too quickly than usual so he stopped right before cumming, edging himself until the other whined into his pillow, cursing and calling Haechan’s name.

_______

Haechan avoided Mark the whole day. He told Mark that he had some other work and barely came into the office. 

The older boy would sigh every five minutes, mind racing, making the poor Onew groan. 

“He’s feeling awkward. You guys fucked, it’s normal”. 

Mark turned his head towards him as if awoken from a dream, cheeks blushing violently as soon as he made sense of the other’s words. 

“Also, you’re in love with him. I would avoid someone in love with me as well if I only wanted to fuck them,” Onew added as if talking about the weather. Mark was unable to speak. “He’s afraid to hurt you now”. 

“I told him it was alright, though”, Mark finally whispered, trying hard to suppress the hysterical little chuckle he would get when nervous or talking about embarrassing stuff. 

Onew got up with his empty coffee mug in his hand. 

“Show it. Do something that can make him realize that it’s okay for you to be in this type of relationship”, he added before walking out whistling with not one single worry in the world. 

Mark would have wanted to whistle as well but couldn’t. 

That advice was breaking his heart. 

It was true. Mark said that he was okay, but he was lying. 

Of course, he was not alright. 

He wanted to, oh he wanted so bad to be alright but it was so late. It was already late from the beginning. Mark didn’t want that kind of relationship. He wanted more. 

But Onew was also right. Mark had to do something. If being able to have Haechan like that meant breaking his own heart, Mark was ready to do it. 

And when that night he went to Jungwoo’s monthly party again, he forced his beating heart to stop upon seeing Haechan’s back. 

The young men’s slender figure was curved in a laugh, the pretty sound almost audible to Mark’s far away ears. Then Haechan sipped from the drink in front of him, still amused by the handsome bartender’s joke, and spun around in his chair right in time to see Mark being hit on by a woman. 

Haechan’s lips stopped on the edge of the glass, eyes unable to blink, staring emotionless at the way Mark’s lips curved in a timid smile while his hands weren’t timid at all, firmly grabbing that girl’s hips as she wiggled her ass against Mark’s crotch. 

Haechan turned around, placing the drink on the counter with a slightly shaking hand. 

“Everything alright?”, the bartender asked. 

Haechan didn’t reply and threw his head back, finished his cocktail in one gulp.

_______

It was quite early when the boy left the party. Haechan felt like suffocating in the middle of all those people breathing heavily, clouding his mind. 

Waiting for his taxi outside, ignoring the stares of horny people smoking and grinding against each other by the entrance of the Garages, he got reasonable startled when two hands suddenly wrapped his torso. 

But those were some delicate fingers and Haechan could recognize that cologne in a thousand others. 

Mark rested his face on Haechan’s shoulder and no one said anything for a little while, listening to the deep bass coming out of the club, the yelling and the traffic on the main road just a few blocks away. 

“Sorry if I startled you”, Mark mumbled. 

Haechan bit his lower lip and turned around, expecting a drunk and horny Mark yet again. But the boy’s eyes were wide and awake, his usual staring-as-if-reading-your-soul eyes met Haechan’s ones. 

The younger looked at them for a second then he eyed the bright red hickeys on the other’s neck as well as the slightly unbuttoned shirt. 

“I see you’ve had some fun tonight”, Haechan commented unable to hide his bitter tone. Not that Mark wouldn’t have been able to see through his fake face anyway. 

Mark licked his lips and tugged Haechan’s hips towards him. 

"Is this alright?", his voice was low and sultry, ignoring Haechan’s little jab, caressing his lower back instead. 

Haechan started to pant softly, unsuccessfully trying to take a step back then he gulped down staring at the other’s lips getting each second closer. 

"We can pretend it didn't happen", Mark went on, "just like we've always done, isn’t that right?", and Haechan could have sworn that Mark was a little pissed off. “Fucking at night then pretending we don’t know each other during the day, huh? Isn’t this what you want? I can do that”. 

Mark's fingers reached the hem of Haechan's t-shirt by now, hiking it up slowly, dragging his fingertips on his skin. It was warm, just like Mark had always imagined. A loud cheer mixed with glass shattering made Haechan flinch but Mark shushed him, every second closer until they were breathing each other's air. 

"I really want to take you right now, just like this". 

Mark's whisper made both of their hearts beat like crazy.  The first, not believing he was talking like that, the second, not believing that Mark was telling him that. 

And when Haechan finally closed his eyes, ready to melt into the kiss, Mark's lips ghosted his cheek and neck instead, fingers still drawing little circles on the younger's chest, resting his palm on the beating heart. Then he pulled away. 

“It’s a shame that you’re pushing me away like this”, Mark straightened his back and walked away.

_______

Mark was a weird guy. 

And when Haechan bumped into him inside the local supermarket near his apartment, a large sweatshirt on his frame, boyfriend jeans, ruffled hair, a little stubble, concerned expression behind his golden round glasses, the tip of his tongue out, licking his lips mindlessly, deciding what brand of cereal he wanted, Haechan felt the urge to go there and yell at him that he's in love. 

Haechan never liked the "what are we" question. 

Everyone around him asked that. What are we? Friends. Friends with benefits. Nothing, we're just fucking. Haechan has never adventured there. But now, looking at Mark's profile, his hand finally picking up the cereal pack, Haechan wanted to ask him that question. 

What are we, Mark? 

Because I want us to be something. 

I want to claim you in ways that give other people no place to do the same. 

Not a friend, not a colleague, not a friend with benefits. 

An etiquette that only Haechan could claim. 

Even if Haechan didn’t deserve that. 

Mine. My boyfriend. Mine. Mine. All mine. 

Was that wrong? Probably. 

But Haechan felt no remorse. 

Was that love? Haechan was unsure but he wanted to find out. 

So he walked over. Was Mark there because he hoped to see Haechan? "Oh, Haechan", Mark seemed genuinely surprised when the younger called his name. "What are you doing here?", the boy asked. 

Mark looked around briefly as if suddenly not knowing where he was. "The meat here is higher quality than the supermarket near my apartment", he explained and Haechan could see the way Mark's expression screamed honesty. 

He wasn’t there because of Haechan. Mark might have had a crush on the other but he was slipping away now. 

Come back, Mark. Come back to me. Call me cute again. Touch my skin. Don’t do this. Don’t play with me like this. 

"Haechan", Mark's voice wavered as the boy got suddenly closer. "We're in public". 

Haechan didn’t look away. “You didn’t care about the public last night. You let that slut fuck you in front of everyone then you dared to flirt with me and leave me on the edge like that?”, he confronted him. 

Mark’s little stunt made the younger so mad the day before that he felt like bursting in his pants during the drive home. Cheeks flushed and trembling hand, he didn’t even bother to walk to the bedroom. He closed his eyes and threw his head back to rest against the entrance door as soon as he stepped into his empty apartment. He came and came, again and again, until he felt too sensitive to touch himself anymore. God, he was so mad. 

“Haechan, are you jealous?”, Mark’s eyes relaxed, the cereal pack still between them, the gaze of some elderly ladies not leaving their backs. 

Haechan’s jaw muscles flexed. “Yeah. I am. I am jealous. I am fucking jealous. Okay? I hate it. I hate that you sleep with other people. You’re mine and mine only”, Haechan spat out quickly before he could regret saying it. 

He was panting and he didn’t even have to look at himself to know that he was all red. 

Mark’s breath hitched in a startled laugh. 

“And I hate that you have all of this control over me. I was done, okay? I was done with feelings and here you are, doing all of this bullshit to me. Your little game worked. Are you happy?”. 

Getting out of the apartment that late morning, Mark didn’t anticipate getting a confession from Haechan in the cereal aisle while said person looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, doe eyes and a trembling lower lip. 

God, he was so cute, Mark wanted to grab his face and kiss him. 

“You saw my game and played by my rules?”, Mark asked impressed. 

“You didn’t even give me time to play at all! I got defeated before starting”, the other admitted frustrated. 

Mark chuckled. “Why are you getting mad at me, Haechan? You ignored me in the first place, sleeping with other people.” 

The boy huffed exasperated and walked away, bumping Mark in the shoulder, making the other pirouette and grab him by the forearm. 

“I was joking. Come on”, he cooed. “This is what I’ve always wanted”. 

Haechan put his tongue inside his cheek, annoyed. “What? Me making a fool out of myself?”

“Showing yourself to me”, Mark replied kindly. 

Haechan rolled his eyes, still using his faking-nonchalance-to-not-show-his-feelings technique, but Mark was already immune to that. In fact, he has been immune to that from the start. 

Haechan loved it. 

Haechan loved it so much that he got scared. It was too good to be true.

________

It was pouring heavily when they got out of the supermarket. Haechan had his apartment windows open and they could smell the scent of rain, clean and refreshing. 

It was cold but Mark's body heated the boy in a second, groceries fallen on the floor, wrapping his arms around the other’s frame. 

They did not kiss and Haechan was quite surprised but he didn't say anything, hiding his face the crook of Mark's neck instead, inhaling all of his favourite scents at the same time. 

"I called you upstairs for a different reason," Haechan mumbled, surprised at the sudden softness, the sound of his voice muffled by the other's slightly damp sweatshirt. 

"I know," Mark whispered against his temple. 

He placed a delicate kiss there, then another one slightly below, then another one, drawing a line until reaching the jaw. Haechan raised his face and Mark kissed the corner of his lips, then the other cheek, and jaw again, and the other temple. 

Haechan closed his eyes with a little smile as if giving up. 

Mark, what are you doing?".

"I want you to think", the other replied, lips still busy. Haechan scoffed. "I want to stop thinking". "I want you to think about me". 

His lips reached Haechan's forehead and stayed there for a little. 

The only sound was the rain and Haechan's quick heart. 

"I already think about you a lot", Haechan confessed, face close to Mark's collarbones. 

"And why do you want to stop?" the other murmured. 

His voice was so relaxing and calming that Haechan for a second forgot why was he trying to not think about Mark in the first place. Why was he pushing him away? Why has he been pushing him away all of that time?

Then he remembered when Mark's hands slid down Haechan's back. 

"Because I'm a bad person". Mark sighed as if he expected that but still wanted to hear the other say it. "You're not a good judge". Haechan tsk-ed. "Well, thanks, I guess." "I am the one who has to decide if you're a bad person or not, and I say that you're not." "You're blinded by love”. 

Mark hugged Haechan even tighter. 

"Yeah, I am, so Haechan, please, let me love you", his tone darkened suddenly. "Stop pushing me away. I can handle anything". 

"I'm going to fuck up", Haechan shook his head. 

"You won't and if you do, I still want to take my chances. What if I fuck up before you do?" 

Haechan laughed, resting his chin on Mark's chest, rising his face to look at the boy in the eyes. "Mark, you're a saint".

The saint’s eyes were those of a sinner though when he pressed his thumb on Haechan’s plump, lower lip. 

"Have you ever made love to someone before?", he asked with a deep voice. 

Haechan's eyes widened with amusement. "Are you joking? I’m a hoe.” 

Mark hummed. "No. I said, love. Have you? Because I haven't either and I desperately want to make love to you right now". 

And Mark was right. 

Haechan had never made love with someone before and he realized it as soon as the other's hands cupped his cheeks, kissing his lips softly, pushing him back towards the bed, making him sit on it, letting Haechan watch as Mark elegantly took away his sweatshirt first then the shirt underneath it. 

Haechan blinked, emotions he has never felt before invading his whole body as Mark pushed him down with a gentle touch, kissing his stomach and going up, taking Haechan's top with him, letting the cold air caress his skin making it all shiver. It would have shivered anyways, goosebumps forming at every feathery touch of Mark's lips. They took away all of the remaining clothes, touching each other slowly, curiously, exploring everything, with fingertips and lips and tongues. Attentive, remembering which stroke made the other whine louder, what kind of whisper pleased the ears more, what pet name made the other blush. 

It was still raining hard, but they weren't cold, tightly wrapped in each other arms, the heavy covers to hide their secret whispers from the world. They were hidden in giggles and heavy breaths, "here?", "yeah", "like this?", "hmm", and Haechan felt so present. He was there, at that moment and he was seen. Mark was looking at him, really looking and Haechan didn't have to do anything to make it happen. There was no reason to put on an act. He just had to be himself. Vulnerable and- "cute," Mark whispered, chests rising, short breaths, his thumb caressing Haechan's red cheeks. 

"Say it again", Haechan smiled. 

Mark imitated him, his lips murmuring the word until they didn't have to, the feeling of it lingering in the air by itself.

[comrade-kenobi]

It’s The Great Pumpkin, Frankie Morales- Frankie x Reader (Daycare!AU)

| Ask Box | Ko-Fi | Twitter | Masterlist | 

I don’t know how good this is, but i thought it was cute. Happy Halloween, my loves!

Frankie and Ellie’s costumes are perfect, change my mind lmaooo

(Also I’m referencing a very specific thirst trap on tiktok with the readers costume because it’s burning into my brain forever, in a good way.)

“Are you doing anything for Halloween?” Frankie asked sheepishly, busying himself with putting Ellie in the car so you couldn’t see how nervous you were making him. 

“Nope.” You replied with a light shrug, trying to think of the last time you’d actually had Halloween plans. 

“Well,” Frankie started, ducking his head out of the car, and looking at you for the first time since he’d gained the courage to ask the question. The way the setting sun had lit up your face made him lose his breath, and his courage, for a moment. 

“You’re, uh, more than welcome to come trick or treating with Ellie and I.” He finished, all in one breath. You smiled at his quickened words, and Frankie could feel his face warming up under your gaze.

“I’d love to.” You replied, as a beautiful smile graced your perfect features. He watched as you considered something for a moment, and then spoke again. “What are you guys gonna be?” 

“Baby yoda,” Frankie answered proudly. Thinking of how goddamn cute she looked when he’d put her in the costume to try it out.“Ellie’s going to be baby yoda.” 

“And you?” You asked, quirking your brow with a little grin. 

“I bought a cheap Mandolorian helmet, I figured that would work.” He said, suddenly feeling a little self conscious at his lack of effort. 

“Perfect.” You replied, “I’ve got a Star Wars costume at home that I think still fits. It’s a date.” 

Frankie smiled like an idiot the whole ride home. He knew ‘it’s a date’ was just an expression, but the two of you had been getting closer lately; and that gave him hope. More hope than he’d honestly had in a long time. Besides, the idea of the three of you going out in matching costumes was enough to keep him smiling for weeks to come. 

---

When Saturday finally rolled around, 4 o’ clock couldn’t come soon enough. Normally Frankie’s weekends flew by, but today seemed to drag on forever. He’d cleaned the whole house, thrown up some spooky decorations, and gotten Ellie ready with some time to spare. So he took it upon himself to have a photoshoot with his little yodito. 

Frankie was finishing up taking, what he considered to be, the cutest pictures in the world when there was a knock on the door. His heart leapt into his chest when he looked at the time. 4 o’ clock on the dot. It was definitely you. He took a deep breath and collected himself before he opened the door. 

“H-hey…” He stuttered, freezing in place with a dumb look plastered onto his face. He knew you were dressing up, but he was in no way prepared for what he saw. There you stood, smiling in his doorway in black jedi robes, and black thigh high boots.The costume wasn’t skimpy, but God was it sexy. You were showing a sinful amount of the soft skin of your thighs, and the glow of the red lightsaber against your face threatened to awaken something deep within him. 

“Hi” you replied, either not noticing or completely ignoring just how taken aback Frankie was by your outfit. 

“I-I, uh, like your costume.” Frankie said, moving out of the way so you could come in. His eyes briefly wandering to the curve of your ass as you brushed by him. 

“Thanks” you replied, anxiously fiddling with the sash that draped down between your legs. 

“It was sexy Anakin Skywalker, or a Jawa.” You continued, your face scrunching up in embarrassment as you listed your options. 

“I’m glad you went with this one.” Frankie said, quickly realizing how creepy that could have sounded and rushing to further explain himself. “I’m not a huge fan of Jawas.” 

“I’m happy I made the right choice then” you smiled, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you. Though, that silence didn’t last more than a few seconds before Ellie started happy screeching. 

She’d noticed you were here from her place on the floor and crawled over to you at the speed of light. The ears of her costume flopping wildly as she went.

“Hey Ellie-Belly!” You squealed, scooping her up into your arms and covering her little face with as many kisses as she would allow. 

“Frankie, this is the CUTEST thing I have ever seen.” You gushed, playfully pinching Ellie’s cheek before nuzzling your nose against hers, making her laugh. 

“Isn’t it.” He agreed proudly, his heart swelling in his chest as he watched the way you and his daughter interacted. He’d been so worried when he first dropped Ellie off all those months ago, and now he was so glad that he had nothing to worry about. You loved her like she was your own, and Frankie couldn’t be more thankful. 

“Ready to get going, Mando?” You asked, jerking your head towards the plastic helmet that sat on the coffee table. 

“Ready, Master Skywalker.” He replied, completely unable to suppress the child-like grin growing on his face. 

---

Every house you’d gone to swooned over your costumes, Ellie’s in particular. And who could blame them, she was the cutest baby either you or Frankie had ever seen. 

“Aren’t you just the sweetest family ever!” A kind older lady gushed as she placed a few candies into Ellie’s pillow case. 

“Thank you.” Frankie replied, thankful for the cover of the helmet. It hid his blush from you, and this kind stranger. 

“Have y’all been able to take a picture together yet?” She asked, her eyes happily darting between the three of you. 

“No ma’am, not yet.” He responded, looking over toward you. You looked back at him and smiled, shifting slightly to move Ellie higher up on your hip. 

“I can take one for you if you’d like,” the lady offered. Frankie looked over at you and you nodded at him, rather enthusiastically. 

“We’d love that, thank you.” Frankie answered, opening up his camera app and handing the woman his phone. 

The three of you stepped off of her porch and onto the sidewalk. Ellie dove into Frankie’s arms on the way there, she’d spent the whole night hopping between the two of you, never really sure of where she wanted to be. Frankie gladly took her and she snuggled into his chest. 

“Ready?” The lady asked, “Get in close!” 

Frankie put his free arm over your shoulders, and you wrapped your arms around his waist with your head resting perfectly on his chest. Ellie lifted up her head and made an excited squeal, clapping as the two of you hugged. 

“Perfect!” The lady exclaimed from her porch, before walking down and handing Frankie his phone. 

The two of you thanked her and headed on your way. You only made it to another few houses before Ellie started yawning. 

“I think it’s time we head back.” Frankie said, kissing the crown of his sleepy daughter's head. 

“I think so too,” you replied as Ellie started reaching her arms out towards you. Crying lightly when you didn’t take her fast enough.

Ellie fell asleep in your arms on the walk back, so you put her right in her crib when you got home. 

“You know,” you started, walking out of Ellie’s room. “It’s still pretty early, you want to watch some scary movies?” 

“Together?” Frankie asked, causing you to chuckle. 

“Yeah together, pizzas on me this time?” Your smile made Frankie weak, and he wondered for a moment how he could ever deny you. 

“Sounds good to me.” He replied, a happy warmth settling in his chest at the idea of you sticking around longer. 

---

The two of you snuggled up, dangerously close, on the couch to enjoy some good pizza and bad movies. The longer the movie went on, the closer you got to him. You’d taken to hiding behind Frankie’s back, and squeezing his arms every time the music got suspenseful. At one particularly bad jump scare you’d practically jumped into his lap, your face turning red as a tomato once you’d realized what you’d done. 

When the first movie ended Frankie noticed the goosebumps on your skin, and the way you shivered when he moved away to get another slice of pizza. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, his fingers lightly brushing the cool skin of your arm to check.

“A little” you lied, trying to play off another shiver, but failing miserably. 

“I’ll get you something a little warmer.” He chuckled, heading off to his room to find you a pair of his sweatpants and a flannel. 

“I have a question,” he began when he got back, holding the clothes just out of your reach. “Why do you have a sexy Anakin costume?” 

“Don’t ask…” you groaned playfully, covering your face in embarrassment. 

“Fine,” he conceded with a laugh, tossing his warm clothes your way. “Keep your secrets.” 

---

Frankie wasn’t sure what was sexier, you in the costume, or you in this clothes. He had to force himself not to stare. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but there was something about the look of his flannel on you that drove him crazy. 

The both of you settled back onto the couch and continued watching movies. Laughing at the cheesy lines, arguing about which classic killer was the scariest, and practically yelling at the tv every time the protagonist did something stupid. 

“We should do this more often,” you said almost dreamily as you smiled up at him. 

“You said that…” Frankie replied in disbelief. A near love-drunk smile playing at his lips as he looked down at you. 

“Yeah…” You nodded, smiling back at him, wider this time. Then you rested your head on his shoulder and went back to watching the movie. Frankie had to resist the urge to pinch himself, because he was sure he must be dreaming. 

Later that night, after you’d left and Frankie had gone to bed, he was scrolling through his phone. There he found the picture of the two of you with Ellie, he’d forgotten all about it. His heart skipped a beat when he finally looked at it. It was perfect. You were holding each other close, huge smiles painted on your faces as you both looked at Ellie. Who was looking back at the both of you, hands clasped together, mouth open wide, and eyes sparkling with pure joy. 

Frankie laid back in bed and closed his eyes, thinking that if this was a dream, it was a hell of a good one; and he never wanted to wake up.

Tags: @mrpascals​ @yespolkadotkitty​

[sanghyukstattoos]

The adventures of you, Huru and Zuho

Characters: Baek Zuho x Reader 

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2079

Summary: Working on your thesis was incredibly stressful but having your boyfriend and his cat around helped ease your anxiousness- especially the escapades Zuho and his cat went on. 

A / N: Heyy @jsnyoung, here is the fic you requested. This is so cute, my heart is ready to burst out of my chest! I know this isn't Huru in the gif but Zu’s actions made me select this one, such a cutie! Look at him just babying the cat (what's its name?) ~~ I want him to baby me in the same way lmaooo. Also, thank you for the request ^.^

The first time you ever searched up, '' Is it scary to write a thesis '' was in your first year and you were met with results like '' intimidating '', '' daunting '' and '' a scary process '' . It gave you deep- seated anxiety however, the world was kind and there were also results such as, '' Habits to break when writing your thesis '' and '' quick tips ''. Even though culminating years of research, notes and structural organization was mean- looking, it was a challenge that the internet said would be fun. Your advisers asked you to keep an open mind since many students would eventually end up pursuing a thesis topic that was different to that piqued their curiosity when they first joined the program.  

Today, you were way past that stage and looking back, you reflected on your program and why exactly you selected it. You strived to seek knowledge, in the classroom and attempting to apply it in real-life as well. At times, you found it difficult to motivate yourself to write but felt better upon realising your passion for your subject. Sometimes, thinking about your thesis made you recall the long nights you would spend editing the same phrases resulting in sore fingers the next morning. However, it was that same productivity that made you even more dedicated to your research. It allowed you to carry on knowing that you were working harder than ever by filling up the spaces as fast your fingers could carry your thoughts. 

As far as you knew, the research on your subject was beautiful but you couldn't find the information you needed. No matter how many 50-page publications you read, very few contained what you needed which frustrated you. It was this same frustration that contributed to your start of conducting interviews and research. Once you thought about it, the idea sounded fabulous making you content that you would be producing research that would contribute to your field. Today, you were going to interview the second participant in your research for your thesis. The pandemic had inhibited face-to-face meetings so sitting at your table at home in front of your laptop, you hurriedly bounced your leg. There was a good couple of minutes before your interview but you couldn't help but repeatedly glance at the time at the bottom left of your screen. 

Shifting your window to dual-screen, one held the interview format including questions but you also held a hard copy which rested on table. Looking up, the movement of kids outside caught your eyes and momentarily, your focus. They looked quite carefree and you could hear their high- pitched laughs and giggles which brought a smile to your face as you watched the birds swiftly breeze across the sky while life carried on animatedly. A sudden yawn caused you to cover your face and running your hands through your hair, you acknowledged how tired you were. Rubbing your eyes, you continued to ponder over the oncoming interview, shaking your leg in the process. '' Nervous babe? '' questioned Zuho who was leaning against the door that was now slightly ajar.  

Surprised, you wheeled around to face him and nodded replying, '' Yea, I don't know how it's going to play out and I think I'm just nervous about doing it online. In real-life it’s terrifying as it is but on a call, things can get awkward real quick ''. Walking towards you, you both laughed recalling the very interesting video calls in each of your lives. You snuggled into his embrace when he bent down to wrap his arms around you. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he smiled asking once again, '' By the way, did your teacher reply to that editing you did of your previous questions? ''. A lightbulb went off in your head, frowning at the thought of not getting a reply back from your professor especially since you knew that they were free. "Nope, he aired me again’’, I'll send it to him again, you thought, determined to get a response. 

Chuckling, you held his arms as you breathed a sigh from the stress you were currently facing. Hearing the heaviness in your sigh, Zuho said, '' I think you'll be fine because of the amount of hard work I've seen you put into this thesis. Since the first day I met you, I saw how unwavering you were to aim for the best so trust me when I say that you'll be okay ''. Hearing his words immediately made you feel grateful for his presence in your life. He had a tendency to be quite optimistic at times which helped you lift your mood and enjoy the smaller things. Your eyes shining, you met his eyes replying, '' Thank you, thank you a lot. Sometimes, I'm able to pull through because of you so I will trust your words. '' with a smile to your tone. 

'' You have around, 10 minutes from now. Are you prepared? '' He asked despite knowing that you had memorised everything on the page, even the empty spaces. Shaking your head, you replied, '' Yup, definitely, everything '' extending your arms at the last word. His hands left you and as you moved to stand up, stretching your limbs. Folding in half, your arm met the tip of your toes and you quickly moved to face Zuho. Asking, '' Zu? He hummed in inquiry as a response, feeling surprised when you went to wrap your arms around him. Mirroring your actions, the two of you rested in each other's embrace until you decided to dance. He had no choice but to move along with you and you both cracked up at your silliness. 

Midway move, you felt something tickling your feet causing you to jump in his arms. Eyes wide, you looked at Zu who was looking around for what caused you to get scared. '' Ahh '' he said, picking up Huru and holding her against his chest. Relief flooded your features as you went to pet Huru saying, '' Such a pretty baby, you scared me '' holding a hand against your chest. Wiggling your toes, you felt disgusted at the thought of something other than Huru, furry and touching your feet. You admired the two of them as Zuho cuddled Huru in his arms and peppered kisses to her face. Gently patting her head, he handed her to you in turn watching how she snuggled into your chest. Initially, she had turned a cold shoulder to you but over time you were able to get her to like you. 

That struggle was something Zuho would never let you live down, like the true romantic he was. Breaking out of your thoughts as you remembered the interview, you quickly turned back to check the time. Your eyes widened as you noticed that you only had a couple of minutes before the interview could start. Peeking from behind you, Zuho spoke as he noticed the time, ‘’You should probably get started you know’’ with a matter- of fact tone and a smile tugging at his lips. ‘’Yea, I should plus I’ll probably finish right around lunch time so I’ll tell you so we can eat together’’ you said, playfully hitting his arm. Clutching the spot where you hit him, he looked at you with sad, shiny eyes to which you lightly laughed at. Bringing him closer by his arm, you pecked him on the lips, the taste lingering on your own.

‘’All the best baby’’ he said, sharing a kiss with you. It was gentle and slow as his fingers threaded through your hair, easing whatever nervousness you had previously felt. Reassuring you, you broke the kiss whispering a soft ‘’thank you’’. Letting Huru down, his fingers found yours and walking towards the door, they slowly left your grasp as you smiled at one another. You watched as the door was left a little bit open, not minding it since you could quickly exit the room once your interview was over. Sitting back down, you ran your fingers through your hair thinking, I got this, what’s the worst that could happen?. Looking around, you found your hard copy of the questions, keeping it as close to you as possible for safe keeping. Once, the interview had begun, all your thoughts flew out of the window because you had expected the worst but you could tell that the worst wouldn’t come. 

Less than halfway through the interview, you saw Huru push through the small gap of the door in the reflection of your screen and enter the room, causing the door to be left half open as Huru nonchalantly strolled through the room, making her way to you. Momentarily losing your focus, you returned to the video call as you thought about how you were going to prevent Huru from taking over the interview. You kept an eye out for the adorable feline as she jumped on the drawers and scratched her paws against the curtains. You came to do this? you thought and it was almost as if she heard you, she replied with the prettiest meow you had ever heard which you could only assume meant yes. Your interviewee paused at the sound of a cat but was forced to resume when you continued your questions. 

With Huru rolling on the table, Zuho peeked into the room a couple of moments later. Having a nice conversation with your interviewee, he saw Huru just rolling on your table. Slightly panicked that Huru would ruin your interview, he tiptoed into the room with arms outstretched towards Huru. Seeing a moving figure in the reflection of your screen, you held back a laugh hoping the interviewee wasn’t seeing this. Even Huru noticed his presence but the closer he got, the farther she stepped away. Mouthing ‘’Huru’’, he tried to grab her but she jumped from the drawers, running across the floor like a maniac. Hearing him sigh, you internally combusted in laughter keeping a straight face knowing that the more he tried, the faster Huru would run. Letting out a minor puff of air, you laughed at the thought of what the interviewee would think if they saw your boyfriend chasing your cat across the room. 

This went on for a few moments before Zuho finally captured her, holding her tight in his embrace. He rubbed her belly, soothing her and meeting your eyes in the reflection of the screen, he mouthed a ‘’sorry’ before exiting the room and closing the door completely. Towards the end of the interview, it looked as if the interviewee wanted to bring up the topic of your cat but decided not too. Ending the call, you leaned back into your seat, taking a deep breath relishing in the fact that your interview was over. Culminating the generous amount of information that you were provided with, your eyes skimmed over the sheet, debating whether to complete your work now or come back to it later. Appreciating the generous amount of time you had to confer with your professor, you got up and stretched. Groaning, you felt your limbs ache as the stress of writing your thesis found its way back to you. 

You walked out of the room and found Zuho and Huru sitting on the sofa, curled up against one another. Smiling, their heads turned as they noticed your presence. As you walked towards them, Zuho returned your smile extending his arm for you to sit on the sofa. You took a seat next to Zu, leaning your head on his shoulder. ‘’I hope Huru didn’t mess up your interview’’ Zuho said with concern in his tone. With his arm wrapped around you, your head laid on his chest as you spoke, ‘’It’s okay. Surprisingly, they didn’t notice Huru’’ laughing at the last part. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, ‘’They didn’t? Maybe they did but they didn’t say anything’’. ‘’That’s true, I struggled to hold in my laughter when you were trying to catch Huru’’ you said, causing the both of you to crack up in laughter.

‘‘She wouldn’t come at all you know plus I didn’t want to enter the frame. at that moment I had no idea what to do’‘ he animatedly replied. Giggling, you felt your hunger growing in your stomach and looking up at him you said, ‘It’s over now. Let’s go get something to eat’’. ‘’Yay, let's go, I’m hungry’’ he replied and letting Huru go, the two of you stood up and walked to the kitchen, chatting about the coming days. 

[helaintoloki]

Hey! I absolutely love your writing especially on the Arthur Fleck/Joker fics. If you’re still accepting requests, can I get one where YN is a new barista and Arthur is a regular at a coffee shop and he just instantly falls for her. He cracks up jokes here and there and she loves it and eventually they start dating (and she knows about his condition) Just lot amount of fluff. Idk if this made sense since I was all over the place but thank you so much if you accept and again, I love your writing!

a/n: I’m gonna do this as a head canon bc my head is hurting and I had no idea how to write this lmao enjoy

Being new to Gotham and in desperate need of money to pay rent, buy groceries, etc. you take the barista job at the coffee shop down the street from your place

it’s actually pretty clean and decent compared to the rest of the city and somehow hasn’t been raided/broken into/tagged/destroyed etc

you do your best to serve with a smile and cheerful attitude in order to fulfill a personal goal of yours to help make Gotham a better place for its people, and that’s what attracts Arthur to you

he hadn’t seen a real smile or met anyone as genuine as you in such a long time, it was like a breath of fresh air for him

“Good morning!” You chirp happily. “What can I get for you, sweetheart?”

to his dismay, the laughter begins to rise up his throat and before he can choke it down it explodes. he’s laughing in your face, body cringing as one hand covers his mouth and the other hurries to hand you his card

it takes you a minute to read the card, but once you do you politely hand it back and patiently wait for the spell to be over

“that’s okay honey, take your time.”

when it’s over he tries to apologize profusely but you simply smile and shake your head. “We’ve all got our downfalls, that’s okay.”

He doesn’t get to talk to you then, too embarrassed from his outburst and also rushed by the customers behind him

He keeps the coffee cup from your first meet, for sentimental reasons and for the fact that you drew a little heart and smiley face by his name :) homeboy was swooning he swore he was already in love

He comes back several times after that to see you, and by the next week you already have his order ready and waiting for him when he arrives

Arthur comes during your break one day and is actually able to sit down and talk to you: learn your name, where you live, why you work as a barista, what your favorite color is

He loves your laugh and tries his hardest to make you laugh or smile. But Arthur doesn’t really have to try, you find him hilarious and don’t mind a bit of a morbid sense of humor. Besides, the jokes he tells you are soft compared to the darker shit hiding in the pages of his journal

After a month of getting to know you and speaking to you, Arthur finally musters up the courage to ask you on a date to which you say yes

He doesn’t have much money so he takes you to the diner in the city. It doesn’t bother you of course, you don’t care where you are as long as it’s with Arthur

You spend three total hours at the diner and only leave when you’re kicked out. You dance in the streets and hold hands and wear Arthur’s jacket when it gets chilly. If you’re scared or anxious you’ll cling to his arm and he swears it’s like heaven, being your protector

The clown has swept you off your feet and you don’t mind one single bit. You love Arthur and he loves you, more than you’ll ever know

He’ll walk you home from work often, drop off lunch for you bc he’s a soft™️ boyfriend, spoil you to the best of his ability (aka steal things for you), and treat you like the goddess you are because heaven knows Arthur doesn’t deserve you

You’re so supportive of Arthur and his dreams and his feelings. You’ll stay up till three with him if he needs you to because you know he’d do the same for you. When life gets hard you’ll let him be the little spoon and hold him in bed, face buried into his back and arms wrapped tightly wrapped around his torso with kisses and sweet words whispered into his ear

Basically you’re his shining star in the dark sky that is life, and he’d do anything for you

(This went way off track lmaooo)

[navollidiot]

[robbe x sander fic] ch. 1/2 - i've never been in love (but i wanna be, i wanna be)

this was born from a late-night/early-morning discussion i had with @musicofsilentkisses​​ about her ideas of robbe and sander having a different first meeting... so..... this is ~3.2k words about what might have happened if sander had met robbe at that very first party and been the one to whisk him away on a late-night adventure :) title is from hurry up! by superfruit because i knew what i wanted to name this fic before i had even written a single word of it lmaooo enjoy xx (also posted on ao3 here)

12 oktober, zaterdag 21:43

Robbe’s head is swimming with the mixture of alcohol and weed coursing through his body, the harsh burn of it in the back of his throat at once too much and not quite enough. He’s squished in next to Moyo at one end of the bathtub, legs dangling over the side, body loose and pliant, mind mostly blank.

“You wouldn’t let her give you a blowjob?” Moyo asks. He’s talking about some girl in their year, Julia, whose face Robbe can barely recall at the moment.

“Uh… no.”

Jens, on the other side of Moyo, is shaking his head as well, but Moyo keeps going. “Really, dude? What, are you an ass guy, then? Eva? Or no, that chick from 6B.”

Robbe shrugs. “Nah, they don’t really do it for me.”

“Who does, then? What’s your type?” Moyo seems insistent on getting specific answers from Robbe, but the truth of it is that he doesn’t have any. He doesn’t really think about girls that way; at least, he doesn’t think about them the way that he finds himself thinking about Jens more often than not these days. Lanky, pretty-faced Jens who is so annoyingly attractive for the amount of time Robbe has to spend around him, pretending to be interested in the same girls. Wanting Jens to pay that kind of attention to him instead.

But he can’t tell anyone any of that, of course, so he merely shrugs again and lies through his teeth. “I don’t know, I don’t really have a type.”

“Bullshit,” Moyo tuts, “everyone has a type. Come on, spill.”

Robbe drains his bottle in lieu of replying, then hoists himself to his feet with some difficulty. “I’m going downstairs to get another. Anyone want anything?”

“I’ll come with you.” Jens volunteers. Gratefully, Robbe offers a hand to help him out of the tub.

The first floor being as crowded as it is, it’s useful to have Jens around to act as a shield of sorts. Robbe, while not necessarily lacking in strength what he does in height, has gotten accustomed to being buffeted around by people like a feather in the wind, but six-foot-tall Jens muscles his way through the throng of people in the main hall with next to no resistance, so they make it to the kitchen in record time.

Robbe wanders around, taking stock of what’s still available in the common area that could be mixed in a drink. There isn’t much to choose from. He tosses his empty beer bottle, along with a couple of empty vodka bottles from the counter, into a battered cardboard box with RECYCLING scrawled across the side in messy lettering, then turns to ask Jens what he wants. But his best friend is gone, suddenly across the walkway, talking to a girl Robbe vaguely recognizes from his chemistry class.

Typical.

Huffing a little through his nose, he swivels back around to grab a plastic cup from the stack in front of him, considering his options with less enthusiasm than before.

“Fancy a gin and tonic?” It’s a voice Robbe doesn’t recognize, but the guy who’s just come up behind him is definitely speaking to him.

He forgets how to draw air into his lungs for a few seconds, rendered breathless by how strikingly gorgeous this boy is. His hair is a stunning shade of bleached blond that reflects the neon lighting around them in a way that electrifies Robbe, roots him to the ground where he stands. His jewel-green eyes are just as mesmerizing; they seem to pierce right through every single one of Robbe’s defenses and see directly into his soul, instantly uncovering all of his secrets, even the ones he doesn’t know himself.

“Um…” He wills himself to act normal. “There’s no gin left, I think?”

The blond boy clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Damn.”

Robbe keeps talking, trying not to trip over his own tongue. “I’m more of a whiskey man, anyway.”

“Are you now?” Something flashes across the other boy’s gaze, curious and fleeting. Robbe is positively, dangerously enchanted. “Well, in that case…”

He turns to head out of the kitchen, beckoning for Robbe to follow.

“What?��

“Come on.” The boy jerks his beautiful blond head toward the doorway. Then, seeming to notice Robbe’s hesitation, he proffers a hand. “I’m Sander, by the way.”

“Robbe.” He shakes Sander’s hand, feeling utterly bemused.

It appears that he has no choice but to let himself be led back out to the walkway, away from the drinks, from Jens, from everything familiar, all for the hope of satisfying his intrigue with this mysterious new boy.

Up the stairs they go, Sander taking them two at a time. He shoulders past a couple making out against the closed bathroom door before unceremoniously ducking into a room at the end of the hall.

It’s someone’s bedroom; Robbe isn’t sure whose, but it’s empty at the very least. He steps inside cautiously, letting the door remain ajar behind him. From the looks of the items scattered all over the floor and the bed—dozens of coats, backpacks and purses, a handful of instrument cases—this is the designated place for partygoers to stash their belongings.

Sander is now on his knees, rummaging under the bed. He tugs out a large green duffel bag, unzipping it in one fluid motion and producing a sizeable glass bottle.

“As requested,” Sander holds it out to Robbe. It’s whiskey, of course, the seal still unbroken.

“You’re serious?” The bottle looks too expensive, too out of place at this random high school party. Kind of like Sander, who seems like he belongs on a fashion runway in some famous designer’s clothing. Not here, not in this bedroom, and not talking to Robbe, of all people. He’s amazed that Sander even noticed him in the first place.

“Dead serious.” Sander’s gaze is steady, heavy with something Robbe can’t name, but whatever it is makes him reach out for the whiskey, fingers brushing against Sander’s like this is some ridiculous romcom, and he takes a swig straight from the bottle.

“Fuck, that’s smooth.” The heat of it makes his eyes water a little, but it’s a good feeling, spreads out from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He gives the bottle back to Sander, who takes a drink as well. Robbe tries very, very hard not to stare at the way his throat bobs as he swallows, but something about the smirk playing around Sander’s lips makes him think, wildly, that he wants Robbe to look at him. That he’s practically daring Robbe not to take his eyes off him.

“You’re here alone?” Sander asks, in a tone that can only be classified as flirtatious. Robbe is thankful for the extra alcohol now in his system that he can blame his reddening cheeks on.

“I mean, I came here with my friends,” he says truthfully.

“But you’re not with anyone?” Sander presses.

“No. I’m not.”

“I’m asking because,” Sander takes a step closer, “I have something in mind that’s even better than whiskey.”

“Better than this?” Robbe gestures at the bottle in Sander’s grasp. “Now that I’d like to see.”

Sander is so close now that Robbe can make out the flecks of gold and hazel in those intense green eyes. He swallows thickly.

Just as he’s sure that Sander is about to close the gap between their lips, someone barges through the open door and Robbe, abruptly remembering that he’s at a party with fifty million other people, flinches away from the other boy so quickly he almost crashes into the newcomer behind him.

It’s Aaron, who looks momentarily confused at Robbe being in here with some guy he doesn’t recognize, but he blurts out frantically, “The police are here and they’re checking IDs, so we gotta get the fuck out of here!” He’s gone again before the words have fully sunk in.

“Shit.” Robbe pats his pockets to make sure he has his keys, then glances at Sander. “Are you eighteen?”

Sander nods. “I do have a quick getaway, though. But we have to hurry.” He stuffs the whiskey back into his bag, then pulls two black face masks out of a side pocket, tossing one of them to Robbe, who catches it reflexively. Sander puts on the other mask and tugs the hood of his jacket up to cover his hair, the movements swift and practiced like he’s done them a thousand times, then zips the bag shut and slings it onto his shoulder. “Go through the garage, I’ll meet you outside. And make sure the police don’t see your face.”

There’s no time for Robbe to second-guess Sander’s intentions, and he wants so badly to trust him that he’s already halfway down the stairs by the time it registers in his brain what he’s doing.

I must be crazy, Robbe thinks to himself as he hooks the mask onto his ears with one hand, turning his phone light on with the other so he doesn’t fall on his face in the pitch black garage, picking his way carefully through the clutter. He fumbles with the sliding lock on the outer door and slips outside, lingering in the shadows to check that the coast is clear.

A motorcycle comes tearing around the corner, screeching to a halt next to a car parked in front of the house. Robbe’s mouth drops open. There’s Sander, clad in a heavy black leather jacket and dark blue helmet, sitting astride his motorbike like a knight upon his steed, his bag at his feet.

“Come on!” Sander waves an arm at him. Robbe darts across the grass, scrambling onto the back of the seat, his arms instinctively going around Sander’s waist.

“Hold on tight,” Sander warns, and then they’re off, the engine roaring beneath them like a wild beast as Sander gathers speed, swerving expertly through the streets. He races through a yellow light as it turns red and lets out a triumphant whoop, a sound that sends a thrill down Robbe’s spine and makes him clench his knees more tightly against the seat, needing the added pressure on his skin as confirmation that this is real, reassurance that he didn’t pass out in the bathtub and fall into some wacky, out-of-body fever dream.

They slow to a stop at the next intersection, and Sander actually leans back into Robbe’s arms, the unexpected intimacy of it shocking Robbe so much that it takes him a moment to realize, from the vibrations of Sander’s back against his chest, that Sander is laughing, the noise muffled behind his mask, but unmistakable all the same.

The light turns green and Sander hits the gas once more. Robbe’s heart is pounding like a drum, blood rushing in his ears. For the first time all night his mind is free of worry; all of his doubts have been whisked away by the wind rushing past them.

“I’m the king of the fucking world!” Sander yells and whoops again and this time, Robbe, caught up in Sander’s euphoria, joins in so that their shouts mingle together in the chilly October air as they race through the night, flying at such breakneck speeds that Robbe is convinced they could outrun anything: fear, fate, even death itself.

He has never felt more invincible.

Sander takes them to a deserted parking lot in front of a building with several steel roller doors, killing the engine and flipping the kickstand down. He removes his helmet and tucks it into his bag.

“Where the fuck are we?” Robbe doesn’t want to relinquish his hold on Sander quite yet. So he doesn’t let go completely, letting his arms hang loosely around Sander’s frame.

Sander adjusts himself in his seat so he’s able to turn and look at Robbe. He tugs his mask down to reveal the huge grin on his face. “It’s a surprise.”

“Is this why you asked if I was with someone?”

“It’s one reason, yeah.” Sander shrugs, leaning in to unhook Robbe’s mask, fingers lingering at his jaw for rather longer than necessary. Robbe can hardly breathe.

Sander stows both masks back in the same pocket they came from, and retrieves a camera from the bag, looping the strap around his neck.

“Come on.”

They get off the bike, Robbe almost afraid for a moment that his wobbly knees will betray him. Sander reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, this time pulling out a pair of white face masks, not made of soft cloth like the other ones, but instead rigid and industrial.

“What’s the plan?” Robbe takes the mask Sander gives him but doesn’t put it on. Sander chuckles, that mischievous gleam now back in his eye.

“You’ll see. Come.”

He puts on his mask. Robbe does the same. Sander takes him by the hand then, and guides him toward one of the steel doors, rapping on it five times in a deliberate pattern: one knock and a pause, then twice in quick succession, then two slow knocks.

The door rolls up just enough for them to duck beneath the edge of it and into what looks like a warehouse. The person who let them in, also wearing a white mask, greets Sander with a two-step handshake and a clap on the back, before nodding at Robbe, who is almost too apprehensive to nod back.

“Sander, what are we doing here?” He’s pretty sure that whatever they’re getting into is something illegal. But he’s helpless for the way Sander’s hand is still curled protectively around his, so he has no choice but to follow as Sander pulls him forward with the kind of confidence Robbe has only ever dreamt about.

They approach a line of garbage trucks parked in their resting locations for the night. A group of people, chattering in hushed voices, all with their faces concealed and heads covered, are gathered around one truck, which has a rolling ladder set up in front of it. There’s a quiet, nervous excitement in the atmosphere around them; Robbe can feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

A girl with dark hair cut in a neat fringe, wearing a jacket over a pretty red dress hands spray cans to both of them. Robbe stares incredulously at Sander. “Seriously?”

“Better than whiskey, I swear.” Sander tilts his head, eyes twinkling over his mask as he crosses his heart, and Robbe could have died at how cute it was. He’s disarmed enough to let Sander drag him around the side of the truck, away from the rest of the group.

Sander pulls the mask away from his face. “Pretty cool, right?”

His expression is so hopeful that Robbe has to surrender to him, just from the sheer need to see that diamond-bright smile for as long as possible. He can’t find the words to fit the whirlwind of emotions traveling through his mind, but it doesn’t matter because Sander is suddenly close again, even closer than he had been when they were still in that bedroom.

Like he’d done earlier, Sander unhooks Robbe’s mask, letting it hang off his wrist alongside his own. By the light of the moon, he can see in Sander’s gaze something like exhilaration, like tenderness, like reckless desire. 

“This is the other reason,” he whispers softly, and then his lips press against the line of Robbe’s jaw, drawing back as quickly as he’d leaned in, more a test than anything else.

Robbe’s eyes had closed instinctively when he felt the warmth of Sander’s mouth on his skin, and it takes a second for him to reopen them as he feels Sander move back. He looks bashful now, somehow, when minutes ago he’d been cool-headed and self-assured, the picture of brazen certainty poised for rebellion.

Robbe finds the nerve to surge forward, gripping Sander’s face to bring him in for a real kiss. He’s spent the last hour wanting desperately to know what that mouth tastes like, and from the way Sander licks against the seam of Robbe’s lips, he’s wanted the very same thing. 

So, in a way he’s never let anyone else in, he lets Sander in. 

Making out with a boy, Robbe decides, far surpasses all the times he’s ever tried making out with a girl and tricking himself into enjoying it. With Sander there’s no need for pretending, and no room for it anyhow.

Sander is the unholy heat and raw color of a wildfire, the edges of him wickedly red, impulsive and downright irresistible. His fingers twist easily into Robbe’s hair, and when his teeth sink into Robbe’s lower lip, it’s like a dam has burst, quenching a thirst within Robbe he wasn’t even aware of before.

Robbe kisses him like he’ll never feel this kind of bliss again, like the second they break apart, the world will shatter into oblivion. Sander is thunder and lightning and fireworks and stardust, a million galaxies racing towards the brink of the undiscovered, into the uncharted darkness, where no one goes because no one knows what lies where no light has yet traveled.

Robbe has never been so irrevocably recognized that now he feels like he could go anywhere, he could do anything—break into a building and spray-paint a garbage truck, for starters—as long as he has Sander.

“God, you are…” Sander seems just as lost for words as he is breathless, panting for air like he’s just finished a marathon.

“Better than whiskey?” Robbe can’t help but grin.

“Undeniably superior,” Sander agrees, leaning in for another scorching kiss. Robbe has to concede on this point, though he’s certainly not complaining that he can still taste it on Sander’s tongue. His lips feel bruised in the best possible way, and he returns the favor rather adventurously, sucking a dark purple hickey onto Sander’s collarbone. Marking his territory, as one does.

As far as Robbe is concerned, Sander, in all his supernova glory, shines bright enough to illuminate every corner of the world, but by some impossible stroke of fate he’d ended up right here in Robbe’s arms. His very own shooting star, though he can’t imagine he’ll have much to wish for moving forward.

They rest their foreheads together, eyes closed, lost for a moment in the safety of a mutual silence. Then, with some reluctance, Sander returns Robbe’s mask to him, though not without stealing one last kiss.

Masks in place once more, both of them disguised from everyone except each other, they climb the ladder, Sander leading Robbe by the hand again. This time, there’s no hesitation on Robbe’s part. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he’d follow Sander to the ends of the earth, to the very edge of the universe. It’s terrifying, honestly, the way he’s already given his heart away to this boy, but he can’t help but think, as Sander beams down at him, that he’s gotten a pretty good bargain.

A heart for a heart, after all, seems to be a fair trade.

to be continued

[ecoamerica]

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[xolotoofficial]

Recorded in Advance

> “Alright, babe,” Marvus’ manager starts, making sure the bandages around his chest are well visible under his jacket, but not as visible as the layers of gold chains sitting on top. He smirks and pats him on the shoulders, eying the golden diamond-shaped studs in his ears. “You’re looking pitiful enough. Go out there and make me and your clown buddies proud.”

Marvus feels way better now that he’s had a couple of days to heal. If he was, oh, Jade, let’s say, it would probably take much longer for him to heal, but he slowly swaggers into the interview, feeling like a million but walking like he’s still injured, but healing. The stab wounds on his body were closed up at this point, and the scarring was already looking pretty minimal, but he looked like he was being held together by cotton and stitches under all the wrappings.

The day he woke up, he let them photograph his chest, and it was emblazoned across every magazine - a clown, martyred at his own show, bloody and pitiful, tore the fuck up and still devastatingly hot. Gore was barely a kink on Alternia.

The cerulean woman in her pencil skirt and killer heels splattered with warm blood sits with a notepad in her lap and a winning smile. She was a familiar site. They had done interviews before, and she was very efficient. “Are you ready? Do you remember all the questions and answers we’re going through today, Mr. Xoloto?”

He smiles and nods, feeling the cameras on him again. It’s familiar, and he can honestly say he missed it. “Yes, I remember. It’s a steel trap up here, even if it’s been knocked around a lil’ bit.”

She feigns concern and they both cackle with each other. She was easy to win over, as easy as anyone else, but at least she had fun with it.

“You’re such a messy bitch.” She croons, recrossing her legs, one set of eyes looking at her notes and the other staring into him with glee. “Alright, everyone shut up and start rolling!...” She herself smiles into the camera. “Hello and welcome to all of you at hive watching, this is Krayvt Terrox, of course. Today I’m joined by one of the most masterful jesters this side of Alternia in an exclusive interview. Known for the size of his crowds, the size of the bloodshed, and the size of him… well. Marvus Xoloto, it’s so good to have you here, and so soon after this grizzly attempt on your life.”

He smiles and nods lazily, moving very little. “Only by motherfuckin’ grace, sister. It’s great to be here, Kravyt.”

“Let’s start with the obvious - your attacker isn’t a stranger to the disciplinary system, and according to multiple sources, he’s been on the cull list for some time for abandoning his duties and past violence on trolls of higher blood. It’s rather stupid of him to brazenly walk on stage when common knowledge among us who actually use our pans that you like to keep a certain amount of attention and cameras on you. I have to ask, did you know Lanque Bombyx personally?”

Marvus shakes his head. “No. We had some mutual acquaintances once upon a time, but I didn’t know him, or about him, or get any warnin’s on his violent ass nature. We’ve attended some same parties, but other than that? Nada.”

“Oh, interesting. Let’s start with those acquaintances. Did you have any altercations or issues with those mutual acquaintances?”

He shakes his head again. “Oh, no. It’s funny, the only people we both knew seemed to either not want much to do with him, or just didn’t have nice things to say. I take care of my friends, ya know? And that includes listenin’ to em, so I did my best.”

“Of course, Marvus the Great wouldn’t be associating with such base criminals. I’m sure the people who lost him to the cull list were very disappointed.”

Marvus laughs. Thinking of Daraya being disappointed in Lanque’s crimes tickled him. “Can’t say fer sure since he came up so rarely, but I’m sure they were pretty g-d bummed.”

Kravyt’s eyes narrow and she leans in. “Now, about the parties? What’s the secret there?”

“Oh, god, ain’t no secret. They was jus’ meetin’ ups I was havin’ with some of my siblin’s. He was there at the same time, in my ass and all that. The only secret I might think was there was that he was followin’ me. Ain’t uncommon, but ain’t impressive on me.”

His interrorgator simply laughed, flipped a page in her paper. “Gosh, this is a funnier story than I expected. Here we all were, thinking he was some sort of hired hand or a wronged quad, but he’s really a jealous nobody. So, what happened that night? Why does Marvus Xoloto lose to an overly desperate fan like that? It’s not every day that someone attempts on a clown’s life, let alone escapes from the scene, and a Jade blood on top of that. A well-trained subjugglator would be expected to win that match up, easy.”

“Well, I ain’t subjug trained, I’m laughsassin trained. We more like a clown utility knife, less of a club to the face, ya dig?” One hand plays with a chain around his neck, the other hand waving away the last statement. “Not disparagin’ of course, I love the heavy hitters in my family, but I ain’t made to maintain that kinda rage all long term and shit. After a bumpin’ ass night of performin’, ya could guess that I was tired a-f. Ain’t help that on top of tired I was all cocky and shit - I’ve always been the type for spectacle, and I ain’t thought that through much at the time. I was jus’ tryin’ ta stop him, wound him all for-life-like, put on a show, and I got blood in my eyes for just a second and, well, I got the beatin’ I well up and deserved for bein’ a show-off, durin’ the fight and durin’ that long-ass slam session.”

Marvus takes a pause. He stops his fidgeting and his eyes cut to the ground. Clowns don’t show shame, but he does it regularly on global television. Even Kravyt, who knew what the questions and answers were ahead of time leans in while the camera does the same on his face.

“But I wanted to make my fans all happy, you know? Shit, they show was gettin’ ruined, and I wanted to give em another to make up for it... That was my b. If I knew he was such a criminal I woulda been more on toppa dat shit, but I ain’t sure it mattered much. Like I said, I’d been performin’ for a long time at that point - like, i-d-k, almost 3 hours?” He pauses though, stage whispering to the woman across from him. “And don’t tell nobody, but I mighta been a lil’ slack on my training. Gotta get that fixed now, don’t I?”

Kravyt nods in understanding, swinging her foot. “Thank you for that, Marvus. I’m sure that was difficult to talk about. Let’s move onto something a little less clinical - how are you feeling?”

Marvus beams for the camera. “Aww, thanks sis. I’m doin’ pretty okay. I should be all healed up sooner than later. Then I can get back to all that good” - and sometimes illegal, you know how it is - “work I’m motherfuckin’ known for.”

He winks through Kravyt and she blushes, but it wasn’t really for her. That one was for the cameras - the rebels he had been helping for the past two sweeps. The clubs he bought out. The performers he had been recruiting. He wasn’t out of the game, and he wanted them to know that.

“And what about the church? How are they feeling about all of this? What about your friends?”

Marvus nods sagely at her question. “Well, my family ain’t to happy. Last I heard they were makin’ their own moves about this. Somethin’ about uppin’ security every-motherfuckin-where, and they hired some kickass to the case? Wild a-f. I ain’t all involved or nothin’ cuz, ya know, I’m a motherfuckin’ loud mouth and alla dat, but they’ve been supportive of me. And as for friends...”

He smiles a little, face as neutral as usual. “Well, they’re goin’ a lil’ SHITHIVE. I get it though. Somethin’ terrible happened to one of their friends, all because of Lanque. He’s gettin’ all sorts of people hurt with these weird motherfuckin’ antics. Who knows who’s gonna be all in the path next? Can’t imagine how hurted his cloister must be - they be their own sorta family, and I kinda feel some kinship about that. I know most trolls ain’t gettin’ what clowns got, but I know, if I up and imagine, it would suck if I fucked up and got a sister of mine hurt, you know?”

And that one was for Lanque.

“How kind of you to empathize with the associates and friends of a criminal. But that almost sounds just as juicy as this -”

“None of that, sis. This is just me havin’ my own fun. I mean, the church got him covered - I get somethin’ of my own, I think. I just wish his family the best.”

“You really have a gilded heart, don’t you?”

“Aww, I don’t know about that…”

“And so humble.” She giggles. “One last question, then.” Kravyt nods and finishes her scrawling. “It’s really good to see that you’re alive and well. Is there anything else you’d like to tell the good people at home?” Marvus turns to the camera to his left and gives another best winning smile. “I’ll be going on a whole new tour in three nights from now to celebrate my good health! Tickets are available now, and locations are listed up on my website. While you’re there, if you’re feelin’ up to it and know anything at all about the location of my attacker, there’s a text form you can submit, only available to people who’re signed up to my Fanclub.”

“It was lovely to have you on tonight,” the smiley four-eyed woman chirps pleasantly, offering her hand. He leans forward with an exaggerated wince, reciprocating the action. She looks at him with her own over-acted pity. “Thank you again, Marvus.

“...aaaand cut it! Start shutting this down. Good job, Marvus. We’ll get these all edited up and it should be going up as soon as it’s done. A day or so. You were wonderful as usual - only took three takes to get all the footage we need.”

Marvus stands and stretches, clapping his hands together once. “Glad we could do this, f-r. Hey, don’t be a stranger, sis - maybe we’ll get to talk without me actin’ like I ain’t ever been stabbed before, lmaooo.”

She shrugs. “I suppose it might be good for ratings - people really are obsessed with you. Who knew that a person could capitalize on their powers like this? Like, shit, I don’t get it, but clearly huffing your voodoo-vibes or whatever is better than coke.”

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

Honorable Mention

A/N: Am I really gonna debut myself as a writer in the RDR fandom with a professor!dutch headcanon I shared with a bunch of friends on Twitter? Seems so. This piece is a gift to my BABY @vanderlindeapologist also this wasn’t beta’d bcause I just be lazy like that, the fic train won’t stop for this lmaooo

Word Count: 900+

Summary: tricky essays, Dutch being a teasing lil shit, sexual tension, innuendos

Part: 1 | 2

Consider supporting the writer and donating to my Ko-Fi!

The clock ticked incessantly in the small room, the mahogany and crimson decoration of the office enough to unsettle and deepen your anxiety. The fountain pen scratched on the papers in front of you, as unforgiving as the man wielding it.

“That was unexpected, dear,” he broke the silence, but kept on with his writing; reading glasses hanging just on the edge of his nose, “thought you’d be able to handle it.”

Nibbling at your lower lip, you tried looking around as if the expensive-looking hard covered books would be able to offer you something — anything, really — to say; but alas, they stayed silent and so did you.

“Nothing to say for yourself?,” Dutch asked, seemingly disappointed, and you dared say even more than when you turned in a poorly written paper with barely any sources. “That’s a shame.”

“I—,” you protested, frustration getting the best of you, but quieted down as the man fixed you with a hard stare, eyes dark and brow quirked up at your outburst. “My apologies, Mr. Van der Linde. I suppose I… bit off more than I could chew.”

The man huffed a laugh, putting his fancy looking pen down. “Oh?,” he condescended, somewhat curious, perhaps amused — hell, maybe even both, you couldn’t tell. “And why’s that?”

To get to spend more time with you, Mr. Van der Linde.

“I think I underestimated the amount of work it required,” you lied, smiling pleasantly at him. “But if you’re willing to give me more time—“

“And why would I do that?,” he cut in, same pleasant smile as yours, only all the more menacing. “See, I’m not entirely against second chances, but fool me once shame on me, now fool me twice… you know how the saying goes.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you spoke, wriggling your hands together on your lap, “but I’ll do better this time.”

Dutch watched you for a few seconds, now pulling his reading glasses off.

“I appreciate the effort and the eagerness,” the man said, half smile playing on lips as he reclined back on his chair, “but why exactly are you here?”

Caught off guard, you opened your mouth and closed it again, blinking at your advisor with disbelief. “Mr. Van der Linde—“

“Don’t take me the wrong way, dear,” Dutch spoke unhurriedly, sighing tiredly as he rubbed a hand on the dark circles under his eyes. You supposed teaching and tutoring took its tool. “But most students aren’t willing to go through all of that just for an extra grade, which accordingly to your GPA,” he slid a file to the other side of the desk, your name written on it, “you clearly don’t need.”

The man got up slowly, moving towards the open window; the crispy autumn air filtering in just enough to keep the room fresh. Dutch fished a cigarette from the pack laying at the windowsill, flicking it in his fingers rather anxiously. “Do you mind?,” and upon your silence, he lightened it up. “It’s not unusual for a smart girl such as yourself go extra lengths to secure a Honorable Mention in their graduation, I’ve seen that more than once myself,” the tip of the cig lit up slightly as he dragged it, holding the smoke for a while before letting it go. “The thing is, none were willing to work as much as you do, with your grades — which alone, should be able to get the Mention you must need, depending on your final project.”

Feeling your blood boil and your cheeks burn, you cut in rather exasperatedly, “what do you take me as, Mr. Van der Linde?”

Dutch turned to fix you with an amused look, mirth evident in his eyes as he tipped the cigarette outside the window. “I make no suppositions, my dear; I simply ask the right kind of questions,” he flicked the cig outside, not bothering to close the window — and when he rounded the table to get closer to you, there was the smell of tobacco around him. “But I must be honest with myself,” he sat on the desk beside your chair with an air or self pleasantness about him that made you want to kiss and punch him at the same time. “I like your spirit.”

Flushing, you gasped rather soundly and cast your eyes downwards. Had he caught on to you? Were you that obvious? You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, embarrassment taking the best of you as he stayed silent at your side; obviously watching.

“Does it… bother you, being close to me?,” he asked suddenly, but you knew there was no sense of shame or self-consciousness in his words, voice a sultry and low rumble in his chest.

“I— no, it… I don’t mind it, Mr. Van der Linde,” you offered meekly, gulping thickly. Where had your spirit gone to? You sure as hell needed it now.

“Please,” he spoke deliberately, “call me Daniel. Dutch if you please.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Dani— Dutch.” You cursed yourself silently at your behavior, fighting the urge to just get up and leave — it was funny, how you had pictured that conversation so many times; and you were never the one being teased unmercifully in any of them.

“I don’t normally do this, my dear,” the man pushed away from the desk and you could hear him walking around your chair, no rush, “but I suppose you’d like a second chance on your paper.”

An escape route.

“Yes, very much so!,” you spoke eagerly, turning around to look at Dutch, ready to impress once more. “I promise I’ll get it right this time, Mis— Dutch.”

“Oh, but I know you will,” he condescended, stepping closer slowly as his hand slowly took hold of your chin; thumb pressing softly just below your lip, “I’m sure you’ll do me proud this time.”

[sibillascribbles08]

It’s midnight and I’m a big sad time to write a scruff idea I had eons ago, pre-season 8, maybe I’ll scrap up a sequel tomorrow lmaooo

Dareth smiled as he put the last of the glasses in order. The first month of Laffy’s had been nothing short of of a success, even with the rowdy crowds he’d get on weekends. It was nice to have something to focus on since the ninja were no longer nearby.

Course, a lot of this success lended itself to the person who helped him get this location in the first place. Dareth glanced back at Ronin who was still here long past closing. By now he was half napping on the counter, hat on his head.

Dareth stepped over, a bit worried to see that glass of tequila was gone as well. He seemed to be drinking a lot.

“Ronin?” He tapped his arm as gently as he good.

Ronin shot up, his hat almost falling off in the process. He adjusted to get it out of his eyes. “Huh? What’s up?”

“You okay?” Dareth leaned on the counter and frowned. “I knew I should have cut you off after that last glass.”

“I’m fine.” Ronin snorted and snatched up his glass. He moved to take a sip from it, only to realize it was empty. His expression turned to shock.

Dareth shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ronin blew his hair out of his face before taking his hat off to fix it. “Just thought it would... ease my nerves.”

“Hah, what?” Dareth grinned. “What are you nervous about?”

“I’m leaving.”

That made his smile drop. “Huh?”

“Come on, Dareth, did you not noticing me clearing out my pawn shop?” Ronin slouched against the counter again. “Trust me, it’s been fun, but I can’t stick around in one place for too long. People get suspicious. People pick up my trail. I need to move around and work again for a while. Besides, Ninjago City is less than ideal considering the amount of security it has.”

Dareth wanted to argue that maybe Ronin could quit this line of work and try doing something else. He was more than capable with his skills as a mechanic, a hacker, a salesman, hell, Ronin could probably do anything he wanted to.

But considering that, Dareth knew that this was what Ronin wanted to do. He wouldn’t interfere.

“When?” He asked instead. “When are you heading out?”

Ronin avoided his gaze. “Tomorrow morning.”

His mouth dropped open. “Wh– tomorrow? And you didn’t think to tell me until now?”

“Cause I knew you’d be mad!”

“I’m mad because you didn’t tell me sooner.” Dareth groaned. “Christ Ronin, I haven’t even gotten to thank you for all over this.”

“You don’t need to.” Ronin waved a hand.

“Shouldn’t we at least hang out or something before you leave.”

“We’re doing that right now.”

“Yeah, while you can barely sit up straight.”

Ronin wobbled on his stool before he stopped himself. “Ugh, look, I’m sorry I... I was planning out in my head of telling you I was going along with some other stuff but I’m no good at it. I still don’t know how to say the rest of it.”

“The rest of it?”

Ronin sputtered for a moment. He picked up his glass, as if begging for it to fill itself up. “Like, you know, you’re pretty fun to be around. You might screw up a lot but– Wait, no I’m wording that wrong. I mean, even when you make mistakes you try and make up for them. Hell, you’re always working as hard as you can and...” He trailed off. “Ugh, I have no idea where this is going.”

Dareth smiled, ignoring the buzzing in his chest. “It’s fine, I get it. I’ll miss you too, Ronin.”

The man’s gaze shot up, as if he was scared. “What? No that’s not what I–I mean I will miss you, yes, hopefully I won’t have to be gone for long but uh, I was trying to... What I meant...” Ronin let his head fall forward, his forehead thumping against the wood. “I’m not good at this.”

Dareth shook his head. “Ronin you’re tired, and not sober. Not really the best time for... whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

“Is it not obvious?” Ronin groaned. “I’m worse than I thought.”

Dareth laughed. “I appreciate you trying to be sincere. Just come find me tomorrow before you leave, tell me then.” He nudged the man’s shoulder to try and get him to sit up. “Or tell me when you get back.”

Ronin met his gaze as he sat up one more time. Something about his gaze was intense. Dareth’s breath caught in his throat.

“Well, one other thing.” Ronin adjusted his hat as he stood. “Can you hang onto something for me while I’m gone?”

Dareth tried not to cringe, not wanting to imagine what it was. As long as it wasn’t some cursed weapon again. “Sure, no problem. What is it?”

He expected a verbal response, or for something to clunk on the counter from who knew where Ronin hid it. Instead, Ronin was quiet. His gaze darted down once, twice, before he leaned closer.

Dareth heart stuttered in his chest. What was he doing? Couldn’t be what Dareth was thinking. No way.

Doubt kept running through his mind until Ronin gently touched his his chin to pull him closer and their lips met.

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what Ronin had been trying to say.

Realization kept him so dumbstruck that he didn’t move when Ronin pulled away. The blush on his face had spread all the way to his ears, and the word “adorable” crossed Dareth’s mind, but he couldn’t move.

“Um, yeah, hang onto that.” Ronin rubbed the back of his head. “Maybe... maybe when I get back you’ll be willing to return it.”

“Sure,” Was all Dareth could manage to mumble out. His whole face felt hot.

Ronin adjusted his hat to cover his face as he shuffled toward the door, stumbling once. “Right, I better go. Got some last minute things to get ready, um...” He looked back when he got to the door. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

Dareth hated himself for just nodding. Could he really not think of anything to say? Then again, with how fast Ronin dashed into the street, perhaps the man didn’t want to hear Dareth’s response right now.

Perhaps he was too afraid if Dareth accepted it that he wouldn’t be able to leave.

Part of him wanted to rush after him, call him back, hug him, smooch him, talk about what an oblivious idiot he was for not realizing what Ronin was trying to say.

But Dareth’s legs refused to move. In the end he sighed, picking up the used glass and putting it in the dish washing rack for the morning.

Ronin would come back. Maybe by then Dareth could do more than just stutter.

Maybe.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Tag, Your It || Sam Drake x Reader ||

Characters: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader 

Fandom: Uncharted.

Requested: Yes! My first one!! [A request for Sam where you two are good friends, but both have feelings for each other. You're always flirting and stuff but no one has made a move yet. One day you're playing lasergun with Nate, elena and Sam, girls against boys. Sam finds you and sneaks up to you from behind, putting his gun to your head and holding you against his chest. But instead of shooting it ends up in a hot make out session. Later interrupted by Nate and elena who are wondering where you are :) xx love your writing!]

Prompt: Taking a break from the treasure hunting business, you, Sam, Nate and Elena all decided to unleash your inner children in a free for all game of Lazer Tag. Given the dark environment years of built up sexual tension between you and Sam finally crumbles down on the both of you. 

Tags: @rafeadderall @missdictatorme @dragonjedihobbit (Message me if you want to be tagged to get notifications of posts!)

Word Count: 1,798

A/N: Lmaooo so I wrote half of this and saved it as a draft but good old tumblr didn’t save it so heck. Y u gotta do me like that tumblr? SEND THROUGH REQUESTS TOO LOVELIESS <3 its also 2 am so i tried to edit it as best as I could but lmao heck/

Cursing under her breath, Y/N had made a break for the barrier, her heart pounding in her chest. It was dark, hard to hear but she knew they weren’t too far behind her. She leant up against the barrier, panting to gradually gather her breath back before jumping back into the action. 

Despite the fact that Y/N was in the centre of a large foam arena and the gun she had in her hand was actual a lazer gun, it was almost as if she was back in Madagascar trying to fend off shoreline mercenary’s or as if she was back in the ruins of Avalon the legendary Island of King Arthur.

The fact was that Y/N, a grown woman and three of her other supposedly more ‘mature’ friends, decided that they’d spend their well deserved break from treasure hunting in an adults arcade filled with games like Lazer tag to fuel their childish needs. 

Once Y/N caught her breath she bounded up and over the barrier just in time to see a silhouetted figure dart around a corner. She smirked and chased down the figure, not holding back the trigger when she rounded the corner herself. The lazer shot beamed from the barrel of the gun and hit directly at the chest plate which lit up and triggered the lights to flick on. 

“This rounds winner, Y/N.” the autoplay system announced, she grinned proudly and bit back a laugh after discovering her victim was Nate. “What can I say, you gotta be sneakier.” She shoved his shoulder and stepped back awaiting for the next rounds instructions. 

Sam and Elena emerged at different sides congratulating Y/N on her victory for that round, she bowed cockily, “it’s all in the strategy.” Sam stood beside her and peered down at her, “oh please, teach us.” A slight smirk pulled on his lips earning a shove in response. “Talent isn’t something you learn Sammy, you just gotta be born with it.”

“Oh why excuse me princess, I am a man of many talents.” Sam retorted, his smirk more evident as he looked down at her. Nate rolled his eyes, “all right you two, I don’t think we need a demonstration.” Of course, Nate’s unnecessary added comment was only to stir the pot between Sam and Y/N. Having been friends for quite some time, it was only natural that the two would end up developing feelings for each other at one point or another. Naturally, that’s exactly what had happened. 

For months now, quips weren’t just witty one-liners or typical banter, they were now mistaken quite often as flirting. Nate over the course of the past months had to put up with his brothers not-so-inconspicuous-but-very-conspicious complaining and whining over Y/N. It was obvious that the two were attracted to each other in more ways than one, hell, even Sully picked up on it. 

“The next round is, team death match, two teams face off. The team with most amount of hits in fifteen minutes wins. You have thirty seconds to pick your team and sync it to the system.” The automated voice sounded over the arena. Nate was quick to pick, ruffling Y/N’s hair as he made his choice, leaving Sam and Elena unimpressed. 

“What? She won the last round!” Nate put his hands up in defence, Y/N however shook her head and walked over to Elena, “we’ll settle this dispute once and for all, who’s better, us girls or you boys. But we all know who’s going to win right?” Y/N raised her eyebrow cheekily, a smirk pulling on her lips. 

Elena was far more on board with that Idea knowing that trying to verse a team of Nate and Y/N, they wouldn’t stand a chance. The two girls synced up their colours, it was blue versus red now. “I gotta admit, Y/N... i’m a little hurt you didn’t even think to pick me.” Sam frowned jokingly of course. 

The countdown started to flash at ten seconds, as she shrugged and winked at him, “c’mon Sam, you and I both know we’d take down these two in seconds. We gotta give em a chance to win.” She saluted him before the two girls both started to jog the opposite direction of Nate and Sam as the timer continued to beep before lights out. 

They had just made it to cover as the lights flicked off suddenly, leaving them in the dark environment only lit up poorly by few LED lights. “I’m thinking you take the west side of the arena and I’ll take the east side.” Y/N whispered, but before Elena could get up and leave she grabbed onto her wrist, “stay behind cover, if it’s quiet enough you’ll be able to hear them walking.” 

Both girls has parted ways and followed suit with the plan. Y/N was on the east side of the building, hidden behind a pillar, she stuck her head out to see any movement and immediately ducked back behind the pillar upon seeing a silhouette that was indeed not at all Elena. Her side pressed up against the foam pillar, she kept the lazer gun close to her and sucked in a large breath. 

She stuck her head out once more but gasped when someone had pointed their gun to her head and snaked their arm around her waist. She knew that someone was Sam, just by his distinguishable smell and strong embrace. “Bet you regret not picking me for a partner now.” His voice was low and silent, he pressed her up against his chest, proud of his little victory. 

A blush crept up her cheeks, she was thankful it was incredibly dark so she could blush shamelessly. A silent laugh passed through her lips as had to comment on how dramatic he was being, “you do realise that shooting me in the head with a lazer does nothing.” she referred to the gear she had set up that registered the lazer beams as hits. 

“Sure it does-.” he spun her around, his free arm still gripping her waist. He could only just the outline of her face, “-It thickens the plot.” Joking around like he usually did, would result in witty remark after witty remark laced with flirtatious connotations. However this time, it was different. 

For months now tension built up between the two of them, every time they’d make an accidental sexual pun or joke it was almost always followed by suggestive eyes, or every time they would touch accidentally they would linger longer than they should, or hold a gaze longer than necessary. 

“thickens the plot?” She repeated, snorting out a soft laugh making him roll his eyes, “I couldn’t think of anything witty to say.” Sam admitted shrugging in defence, he thought it sounded cool but it sounded a lot better in his head than it did coming out of his mouth. 

She laughed lightly, “Oh I know, that wasn’t one of your best... but besides the point are you going to shoot me or not?” She may have sound composed and put together but on the inside her heart was racing being pressed up so closely to Sam’s chest she was going into sensory overload. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” His voice softened, while he could barely see her he knew where she was, and his face hovered closer to hers.

“What’s that supposed to-.” He cut her off by closing the gap between their faces, pressing his lips onto hers carelessly dropping the gun on the floor to and caressing her face gently. He caught her immensely off guard but the sensation was nauseating, the good kind of nausea, the kind that made her chest ache and stomach tingle.

He broke away from her but didn’t go too far, the short few second kiss leaving him clammy and sweaty already as well as Y/N. She looked up at him, only just seeing his features before on instinct she brought her hands up to the back of his head and through his hair. Time started to slow momentarily as they stood in silence, nothing but their soft breath was heard before an instant of animalistic hunger struck the both of them. 

The months building up to this moment for them was astonishing, their lips sloppily moved in sync, which contrasted the first kiss incredibly. Y/N ran her fingers through Sam’s hair while his own hands were preoccupied running up and down her sides. 

He bit down on her lower lip causing a hum of pleasure to pass her lips before pressing her up against the foam pillar. The two could barely keep their hands of each other, that was due to the fact that they were reluctant to let go after so many months of intense sexual tension.

They had to keep reminding them where they were and that as heated as things were going they were most definitely not going to do anything in a foam arena. Of course that meant they were going to have a wild night when they got home. Getting herself lost in the kiss Y/N tugged the ends of Sam’s hair a little too tightly, not that the groan from his mouth was one connected to pain but pleasure. 

“Oh please don’t do that.” He murmured against her lips, squeezing her hips slightly. “Sorry.” She mumbled in response, her voice muffled by his lips, “oh no, don’t be sorry, the more you do that the less i’ll be able to hold back from just taking you right here right now.” He admitted, his hands now trailing up to her hair, his calloused thumbs caressing her cheeks softly. 

“I don’t have a problem with that.” She mumbled, her hands still in his hair. “You don’t, but we do...” Nate’s voice greeted them, making the two jump apart. They hadn’t noticed the lights had switched back on and Elena and Nate stood not to far with smirks on their faces. “Jesus, Nathan. How long have you been standing there?” 

“Oh trust us, we just got here. We wondered where you’d both run off too... oh and by the way I won.” Elena grinned, Nate’s arm around her proudly. “This is a little embarrassing...” Y/N admitted, scratching the back of her neck nervously, her lips swollen, much like Sam’s were as well. “Hardly, but you two lovebirds run along now and you-.” Nate turned to his wife, “owe me fifty bucks.”

“Seriously? You guys bet on us, how original...” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes at his younger brother. At least Sam could very comfortably wrap his arms around Y/N and it not be strange anymore.