#the headphones would come in on Sunday (today)

[miraclewoozi]

DON'T SWEAT IT. - l.jh

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you.

pairing; lee jihoon x fem!reader.  content; fluff / gym crush au / strangers to lovers / kinda idiots to lovers / smut towards the end (MINORS DNI). w/c; just a breezy 18k- and some change? warnings; swearing, this is only proof read once because if i read it again i was going to lose my mind. please let me know if i've forgotten any. smut tags under the cut ( not sure that this counts as a warning but a heads up: the gym weight units, whenever mentioned, are in kilograms not lbs because i’m british and the metric system, am i right? sorry if there are any other british-isms, i try really hard to avoid them/catch them on a proofread but there are inevitably some that have slipped through the net.  )

note; gym-selfie jihoon, you will never not own my ass. ( screaming internally this is the first fic i've written since my dan + phil youtube era. i don't know what i'm doing. this has been in my wips for about two months. it's a bit all over the place. that's. literally just me. bon appetite. <3 )

smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), blowjob started/implied (at the end), protected sex (be safe out there gang), little bit of biting, no huge power dynamics? reader & jihoon are both switches (and simps), some use of pet-names (good girl/baby).

—————

He first sees you around lunchtime on an otherwise unassuming Sunday. 

As you walk in, the gym is wonderfully quiet. A handful of regulars mill about, making full use of the rare freedom of the machinery. One of the club’s personal trainers is marching an impossibly steep incline on a treadmill. It could just be any other weekend session in this criminally over-equipped and under-used gym: the town’s worst kept secret. But when the door slams shut behind you, his head jerks up; it, in this moment, is the loudest sound in the room. It’s sort of the only one he hears at all.

Today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — Jihoon is forced to notice you as he sits with dumbbells rested against his thighs. He catches his breath as he wonders who you are, if you’ve ever been to this gym before, why he doesn’t recognise you. Are you a new potential regular, maybe? Or just visiting the area and making good use of the cheap pay-as-you-go rates? Maybe, he considers, lips turning downwards in thought… maybe you’ve been coming here for a long time and he’s somehow just always been so in his own head that he’s never noticed.

The last, he thinks, is sort of unlikely. No. He would definitely remember a face like yours.

His heart rate slows more than he usually lets it as he finds himself watching you fill up your water bottle at the fountain, taking a long sip on your way over to one of the stairmasters. His brain blanks out when he realises that he’s not just looking anymore, he’s sort of staring, and swallows the saliva on his tongue hard, looking back at the mirror. He doesn’t want to be that guy. He isn’t that guy – he just got distracted by the loud noise, and this is exactly why he checks the damn battery on his headphones before he leaves the house. 

The only problem is that now, he can’t remember how many sets he’s done. He lies back and stares straight into a slightly sketchy light-fixture, neglecting to pick up the dumbbells that he put aside for his next set of pushes. Jihoon adjusts the position of his shoulders against the bench, arches his back off it slightly, digs his heels into the spongy floor beneath them and pushes the ones still in his hands until failure. 

Today, he finishes his routine and leaves the gym without allowing himself so much as another glance your way.

He neglects to notice that your eyes are avoiding him right back. 

—————

You smile at him for the first time on a Tuesday. Not the following one – a week and a bit later.

Seungcheol is with him tonight. Jihoon prefers to train alone nine times out of ten: this is a truth widely acknowledged, accepted and respected among his friends. Gym time is his down time, his equivalent of movie marathons and comfort food, of face masks and glasses of wine. But it’s not a hard rule: occasionally, someone will ask to tag along and use one of his guest passes, and Jihoon very rarely says no. There are two reasons. One, he isn’t actually rude, contrary to approximately eighteen running jokes in the group-chat. But also, it adds a little bit of variety to his otherwise very set-in-stone regimen, and mixing it up doesn’t hurt. Like tonight, for example. Seungcheol is pulling him into the studio off the main gym floor, his own gym bag packed with boxing pads and gloves for them to play with.

Variety.

Jihoon grumbles a little at the idea, at first. He has a very love-hate relationship with cardio, favouring a simple steady-state run over everything else, and it just feels a bit against his moral code to use gym time for something like this. However, he comes to discover very quickly that smacking Seungcheol’s hands is very therapeutic; Jihoon knows he’s maybe getting a little too into it when his friend asks if they can switch around, grimacing and shaking out his wrist after a particularly beefy punch. 

He agrees, albeit reluctantly, tugging off the gloves he’s wearing and pulling on the pads instead.

This half of the activity is considerably less enjoyable for Jihoon; he starts to cool down and loses his flow almost straight away and after about thirty seconds, his breathing is back to normal and he feels ready to go again. Even so, he does what he needs to do to be a good workout partner, and goes one step further into ‘good friend’ territory as he allows Seungcheol to vent about the bad day he had at work in-between hits, offering murmurs and looks of disgust when it feels appropriate. Suddenly, the impromptu request to come to the gym tonight makes much more sense, as does the slightly bizarre choice of activity, but Jihoon tries not to ask about it in too much detail.

They swing at each other for a few more rounds apiece, working up a healthy sweat and getting out a few frustrations as the hour wears on. On the last set, Jihoon switches out Seungcheol’s hands for a punching bag, putting a lot more of his weight behind every hit and really tiring himself out. By the end, his hair sticks to his forehead and his cheeks have flushed bright red; he only stops when he gets that weird, metallic taste in the back of his mouth that says he’s probably overdone it. Again.

“Hit the shower?” Seungcheol asks breathlessly as he finishes his last set of Russian twists and lies down flat on the floor, equally sticky and flushed all over. 

Jihoon pats his face dry with his towel, shaking his head. “You go ahead. I’ll have one at home.” 

He doesn’t give Seungcheol much of a chance to respond, already cleaning down anything he’s touched or managed to sweat on and riding out the high of the endorphins flooding his veins. Secretly, he hasn’t had a cardio session this high energy or this satisfying in a long time. He isn’t going to readily admit to that though.

“Nah, I’ll do the same,” Seungcheol agrees. He starts packing the gear he brought with him into his bag and they leave together after, heading towards the exit. 

That’s when he sees you again. 

He doesn’t notice at first; you’re stowing your things into one of the higher lockers, and you have your headphones slung around your neck as he walks past. It’s the sound of a song he vaguely recognises through your speakers that makes his head snap over from the conversation he’s in the middle of. They walk past at the moment you drop down from your tiptoes, and you flash a small (but insanely pretty) smile at Jihoon.

By the time he manages to process this fact, he’s already walked past you and you’re headed over into the main gym area, so even though he turns around to try and catch your eye, all he sees is your retreating figure. He stumbles over his own feet, not looking where he’s going, and just barely catches himself on Seungcheol’s upper arm before he actually does fall over. His older friend glances down at his bicep before he adopts a look that Jihoon has seen many, many times before: just never directed at him. His cheeks heat up further and he looks away.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, one eyebrow so far up his forehead that it’s disappeared almost entirely under his soggy hair. He looks so smug, so incredibly entertained. Jihoon wants to smack that expression off his face, immediately.

“Nothing,” Jihoon rushes, managing not to act on the violent thought even though he wants to. He clears his throat. “No-one. I-... they’re new, I think. I don’t know.”

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, pushing the door open for them both to leave through. “Yeah,” he scoffs, eyes glimmering with something Jihoon doesn’t think he likes the look of. “Nothing, my ass.”

—————

Three days later, he hears you speak for the first time.

Granted, you aren’t speaking to him – at least, not at first. But that’s not really what matters.

It’s late, and it’s a Friday night. Fridays are usually Jihoon’s days rest days, but sitting around his apartment had him feeling impossibly twitchy, with far too much energy to burn and no way to do so without leaving the house. And he knows that he needs to take days off, now and again. He knows that they’re good for recovery and that it’s healthy to take time to himself that involves not lifting weights. But what he also knows is that if he doesn’t manage to shake the weird buzzing feeling in his muscles, in his joints, in his veins, he’s never going to get to sleep. So, here he finds himself at almost 10PM, walking down the street to get to the gym.

To begin with, he doesn’t know (or really care) who it is that’s coming up behind him. He can hear quite clearly that the mystery person is on the phone, and that they’re in the middle of what seems to be a rather heated argument: his brain latches onto occasional words, phrases, curses. Every now and again, their voice drops to a deep, frustrated mutter and he cringes slightly, making a point to keep his eyes forward and down so as not to draw attention to the fact that this presumably private conversation has become everything but.

He touches his entry fob to the sensor on the door as he arrives and pushes it open. Jihoon uses the opportunity to stand still, to glance back at whoever it is that’s walked behind him for the past four and a half minutes, and his eyes come to land on you. He falters, noting how your eyes are a bit glassy and your cheeks are stained with what he can safely assume are tear-tracks. In this moment, he wants to run; he doesn’t want anything to do with that, and he certainly doesn’t want to hear any more of your call. It’s none of his business, and he feels plenty weird enough already with what he has overheard. But, for some unknown reason, he stays in place.

“No – no, you don’t get to-...” you hiss into your phone. “It was our fucking anniversary, you asshole.” Jihoon’s face tightens at that, lips drawn between his teeth and his eyes blowing slightly wide. You pass through the door in front of him, flashing a small smile as you go. Another smile, he thinks to himself, but he’d be an idiot to compare them in any way; this one is so dramatically dissimilar to the first, he thinks it could almost have come from a totally different person. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing ‘insanely pretty’ about it this time. Your smile is tight-lipped and exhausted, slightly apologetic. Maybe even forced. He does try to return a warmer one to you, but he doesn’t know if you notice. 

“Look, I’m at the gym – we’re not doing this right now. I’ll call you later.” You hang up the phone with the kind of sigh that groans in the back of your throat.

A small part of him wants to take this moment and use it to ask if you’re all right, but an even larger part of him doesn’t. It isn’t because he doesn’t care. In a weird way, considering this is only the first time he’s clearly heard your voice and he knows absolutely nothing about you, he does care. But there are a few things that stop him. Not only are you a near-complete stranger, not only would he have no idea what to say to you if the answer happened to come out as a ‘no’, not only is he already coming over a little bit clammy at the thought of having a conversation with you… Jihoon isn’t stupid. He knows from the sound of your voice and the way you’re rather aggressively typing a message into your phone that it’s a ridiculous question.

You’re walking into the gym at 10 o’clock on a Friday night, your eyes literally brimming with tears. Of course you’re not all right.

He’s still standing in the open doorway mulling all this over, but Jihoon only realises when a gust of wind slaps over his calves and sends a draught not only through the reception area, but up the length of his spine. He comes inside fully as you close the locker you’re using – he notices, but he isn’t sure why, that it’s the same one as last time – and throws his things into the one he always uses. Two below and one to the left of yours.

It’s quiet tonight: just the pair of you and one middle-aged guy. Jihoon recognises him as the friendly man who seemingly knows everyone who comes in here – including you, apparently, judging by the way he strikes up a short but energetic conversation. When the other guy walks away, you clamp your headphones back over your ears and return to what you were doing before, occasionally bobbing your head or moving your lips in time with whatever it is that you’re listening to. Jihoon steals little glances at you now and again when you’re in-between sets, watching how you breathe deeper, how your skin glows with sweat as you tap your fingertips against your thighs.

He almost drops the bar he’s holding when you catch his eyes in the long line of mirrors. He turns away, swallowing hard, completely missing how your own gaze lingers.

Jihoon becomes so obsessed with not being caught looking at you again that he doesn’t even notice when you disappear off the gym floor completely. It’s only when he pulls his headphones off at the end of his session and glances around that he registers your absence: your third companion is long gone, and he assumes you must have snuck out without him noticing too. He settles the speakers back over his ears before pulling on an old zip-up, flicking the hood over his head to shelter him a little better once he gets outside. But he’s in no rush to get home so he takes his time, resting his bag between his abdomen and the lockers, replying to a few messages and clicking his tongue at some of the nonsense being spewed into the group-chat. 

He isn’t sure exactly how long he’s standing there for, but he does know precisely what pulls him back to the world outside of the device in his hands.

To begin with, he doesn’t notice you approach, lost completely in his screen. He doesn’t hear your footsteps, or the way you politely clear your throat to announce your presence so he can move out of the way. He misses your moment of realisation that he’s listening to music and has no idea that you’re standing three feet behind him. He doesn’t even see you walk up next to him, your hair still damp from your shower and sitting loose over your shoulders.

It’s only when you try to reach over him to grab the last of your things that he snaps out of his trance. The fragrance of your body wash hits him first, and oh boy, does it hit him. Sweet, and delicate. Then, he gets something beautifully fruity: it’s not a perfume (it doesn’t smell like a perfume), but it’s you. Your shampoo, maybe? A conditioner? He can’t tell. Whatever it is, the combination of fragrances has him feeling like he’s been slammed into by a damn freight train. He drops his bag to the floor, freezing for a second, and then finally moves away just as the little door swings open. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly, tugging his hood down and pulling his headphones off completely. “I didn’t even think you were still here.” He can’t shake the smell of you, nor the feeling of your warm frame leaning so close to his own. God, why is his heart pounding like he’s just finished a round of sprints? Why can’t he breathe?

“No – hey, no, don’t be,” you rush, shaking your head. You finally succeed in pulling your coat free and start trying to get it on; Jihoon wonders if you often struggle to find your sleeves like this, if you’re always chasing them around like a puppy after its own tail. He does it too, sometimes. He gets it. It’s cute. “It’s okay. I was trying not to disturb-... I’m sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he tells you. For the first time, he’s able to smile back at you properly. 

Why is it so hot in here, all of a sudden? Do they shut off the air conditioning after hours or something? He’s breaking out in a sweat.

“Call it even?” you suggest shyly, extending out a hand now you’ve managed to get both arms through your sleeves. He looks down at your fingers for a second before reaching to shake your hand once, a semi-firm grip securing the ‘deal’. (He feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted after, but he tries not to make that too obvious).

It goes awkwardly quiet for a moment then, and Jihoon wishes deeply that he had it in him to say something. Anything. But his brain has gone completely empty and apparently, all he knows how to do is stand completely still like a fucking statue. He shifts his gaze from you, to the wall behind you, to the carpet beneath his shoes, all the while tugging at the collar of his sweatshirt as if it might bring him a tiny breath of fresh air. The gentle sound of you clearing your throat has him looking back at your face again though; he assumes for a second that this is maybe you about to announce taking your leave. All the while, he’s cursing himself out in his own head for being totally inept, and he’s not entirely sure that it isn’t written all over his face.

“Alone, today?” you ask, idly fiddling with your zipper and succeeding in taking him by surprise. He really didn’t think you were going to continue this. And yet…

“Hm?” he questions. 

You swallow before answering. “You… the last time, you were with a friend?” you explain, and now it’s your turn to look away. He wonders if you’re a little warm too, if he’s right in what he was thinking about the air-conditioning. 

“Oh. Right.” 

He nods. An annoying train of doubt in his mind wants to know why you’re asking about Seungcheol; if maybe it was him that you smiled at the other night, even though he knows your eyes weren’t looking up at the man he brought with him. He thinks maybe he should be used to these turns in conversation by now – you certainly wouldn’t be the first person to ask if one of his friends is available, after all – but somehow, he isn’t, and he has a slightly bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he goes on.

He really didn’t have ‘you being interested in one of his best friends’ on his bingo card for tonight, that’s for sure. 

“Yeah. I think he’s with his partner, or… I don’t know. I don’t really bring other people, often. That was a one-off.”

You nod silently and Jihoon can’t quite get a read on what that means. He wonders if you’re upset at the revelation of Seungcheol’s partner, or maybe that he doesn’t tag along to every session. Or maybe, maybe, you were just being polite, and you don’t really care what his friend is up to that means he isn’t here. But whatever it is that you’re feeling, you do far too good a job at hiding it; he’s suddenly very overcome with the desire to run, again, except this time he might just bury his head in the sand too for good measure.

“How much were you deadlifting, just then?” you ask in the lull, just as he thinks he might have perfected the best way to say goodbye that doesn’t make him come across as even more of a tool than he probably already has. It throws him off kilter, but somehow, he manages to answer you in reasonable time.

“Oh, God… uh, one… 160?” He says uncertainly. “That’s not… I can do heavier-...” In his mind, he slaps his forehead. “Wait, no, that’s-... I mean, it’s true, but I didn’t mean-...”

You bite back your smile as he talks himself in a circle but Jihoon is too flustered to notice, convinced that he now sounds like every arrogant gym rat on the planet. God, he’s given himself the ick.

“I guessed you could,” you say. 

Oh boy, this freezes him. Mid-thought, mid blink, mid-breath: he’s completely stuck. What does that mean? What does that mean? He only just manages to unstick his now suddenly dry tongue from the roof of his mouth, looking at you with surprised, confused eyes and parted lips. There aren’t any words on them, though. Like a deer in headlights, he just… stares.

“I mean, okay. Come on.” Your eyes visibly drop as you look him over, gaze lingering at his shoulders, his biceps, his waist. “You can get another twenty on that at least, right?”

He doesn’t know how to explain what’s happening to him, but if he thought he was burning up before? It was nothing compared to this, now. And there’s no way you haven’t noticed how everything from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears has suddenly started staining scarlet. He bows his head and pinches his lips tight, wrestling away the train of thought that appears as you drag your bottom lip between your teeth momentarily, still eyeing his arms. God, he’s never felt so overwhelmed in his life. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he strains. He’s trying so hard to be nonchalant, even though he knows all of his personal bests by heart. Deadlift, 195kg. He hit it a few weeks ago: a couple of days before he first saw you.

“Mm. You can tell.”

Jihoon tries to shake off the compliment, but he fails. In equal measure he wishes you’d stop (he doesn’t know how much more blood can rush to his cheeks before he keels over) and never wants you to stop talking. It’s all going straight to his stomach, though, and he doesn’t remember having felt this specific brand of nervous and excited and stupidly shy since he was in high school.

He can hardly keep up. This is the danger zone.

Maybe it’s a bad idea that he says the next thing that comes into his head in a desperate attempt to change the conversation away from how much he can pull. But somehow, his voice doesn’t break when he asks, “are you parked far away?”

What? It’s dark outside, and this part of town isn’t exactly known for its upstanding citizens and pretty flowerbeds.

“Oh,” you say, eyes a little wide. “I’m-... just staying close-by. I walked here.” The space between his eyebrows must crease a little too quickly because you immediately hurry to speak again. “Really. It’s like… not even ten minutes. All main streets. It’s nothing.”

“Ten minutes longer than I’d walk around here at night on my own,” he says lightheartedly. In tone, at least. He’s actually completely serious.

You laugh at that; he lets out a chuckle, too. Now, Jihoon doesn’t believe in fairies but he thinks that if they were real, they’d giggle just like you do. 

With a smile still on your face, you say, “what? A strong guy like you? Come on, now.”

Do you have to keep doing that? Fuck, he’s absolutely done for.

He tilts his head forwards, eyes closed, trying so hard to stop the muscles in his cheeks from lifting in a grin that it becomes a workout in and of itself.

“I mean it,” he says, taking what he hopes is a subtle breath to settle the fluttering in his chest. The next thing he knows, he’s leaning one shoulder against the lockers, a little reminiscent of every douchebag in every teen movie ever made. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he won’t cringe into oblivion until he gets home and replays this interaction over and over in his head instead of going to sleep. “Maybe I’ve just lived here too long. I might be jaded, but it’s still true.”

“How long is too long?” you ask.

“All my life,” he tells you.

“No way?”

“Mm.” A beat. “What about you?”

“I’m just staying with a friend, right now.”

“Oh, right.” He falls quiet again as he remembers the first time he saw you, remembers making the list in his head of all the possible reasons he hadn’t seen you before. The second was true, then.

Why does that feel like the worst possible scenario? He decides not to unpack that here.

“Maybe-...” you start, glancing down at your hands, which have been twisting in front of you for a few seconds now. Your chest inflates, filled with the words you’re about to speak, but only a breath comes out when you shake your head instead of saying them. “No, don’t worry. Scratch that.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, because he thinks that whatever you were about to suggest, there’s not much he would have said no to. He feels like it’s only fair to give you another chance to say it.

But you don’t.

“Yeah, it’s nothing.” You pause. “I… should probably get going.” He glances over your shoulder at the clock mounted on the far wall, squinting to see the time. 11:45.

“Shit. Yeah, me too,” Jihoon agrees. He didn’t realise it had gotten so late, so fast: he’s hardly ever out at this time. Lord, he already knows it’s going to be an open inquisition when he gets back to his apartment. His neighbours, Soonyoung and Seokmin, are about to have a fucking field day. 

But it’s already long past the time he usually goes to bed, so he asks his next question anyway. He still can’t shake the thought of you walking back on your own at this hour. “Do-… you need a ride?” 

He’s not sure if you actually consider it, or just wait a moment before you answer just to be polite. Either way, you end up shaking your head.

“It’s okay. I’ve-… got a call to make, so.” Your voice is a little quieter, lips tweaking up into a regretful half-smile, and Jihoon curses in his own head. How had he forgotten about that? “Thank you, though. Really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says. “Just… get back safe.”

You smile and nod, taking a step towards the door and Jihoon does the same. He reaches the exit first and holds it open for you; when you’re both out in the street, he suppresses a shiver and looks in the direction of where he left his car earlier. Feeling the full force of the cold, it crosses his mind to ask again if you’re sure about walking home, but you’re already pulling a beanie down over your still damp hair and tapping something into your phone, so he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll see you around, uh-…” you start to say, only looking back up when you falter, realising that this is the first time you’re about to use his name and it occurs to you both, at the same time, that you haven’t done this part, yet.

“Jihoon,” he introduces himself, lips quirking into a side-smile. His gaze is expectant and you respond to it perfectly. 

“Y/n,” you introduce yourself. 

“See you around, y/n.”

You split off in the opposite direction to where he’s heading. Before he clamps his headphones over his ears for the short walk up to his car, the last thing he hears is the retreating sound of a dial-tone. 

—————

He doesn’t see you then for two whole weeks. 

For the first couple of days, he only idly notices; it’s not a big deal — it’s not like you’re always there when he is, and he’s sure it’s the same vice versa. But he notices your absence, nonetheless. By the end of the first week, he casually wonders if you’ve had a change in schedule. Maybe you’re on a different working pattern, something that means you can’t be there on Monday and Thursday evenings and at 11:45am on Sundays. 

It’s not weird. He only knows this because prior to that first conversation, acknowledging you as you crossed paths by the free-weights became part of his routine. It’s fine that he sort of misses those little interactions, isn’t it?

Maybe you’ve decided to start training ridiculously early in the morning instead? He tried that once. Never again. It then occurs to him, in the middle of a self-enforced rest day as he sits in the dark nursing a headache, that perhaps you’re not well. He sort of wishes he’d had the guts to ask for your number the last time he saw you, now: he thinks he’d check in, see if you were okay, ask how work was going or something. 

Deep down he knows he’d probably actually just be staring at a blank text thread with a ‘casual’ message typed, tweaked a few hundred times, and ultimately unsent. But that’s fine. It’s the thought that counts. 

The next time he sees you isn’t even in the gym, at all. It’s a Sunday afternoon — he finished his morning session, went home, showered, and headed back out into town after some lunch with a few errands to run. He finds himself spoiled with the luxury of a spare few hours to kill and dips into his favourite coffee place, thrilled beyond belief to find that it’s not obnoxiously busy and that there’s only one other person in the queue waiting to be served. 

Oh, he thinks when he looks up from his phone and sees a vaguely familiar set of headphones sitting on top of a definitely familiar mane of hair, standing right in front of him. Oh, shit. It’s you.

Jihoon goes back and forth with himself over it but ultimately decides he probably doesn’t know you well enough to just say hello out in the wild like this, so even though the urge to do so strikes, he holds himself back. It’s agonising, though. He really wants to. 

You step forward to order and he’s typing out a reply to a message in his, Seokmin and Soonyoung’s three-way group chat, in which he’s literally been fighting for his life as of late. He made the mistake of mentioning you in passing a few days ago and ever since, he’s had to vehemently deny that he has developed his first gym crush, insisting that actually, he’s just made a friend. They don’t believe him, because of course they don’t. That would be far too reasonable. Seokmin says that Jihoon wouldn’t be blushing just from saying your name if you were really ‘just a friend’. Soonyoung argues Jihoon wouldn’t have mentioned you at all.

“I’m so sorry — bear with me, just-…” your voice is quiet but Jihoon hears you apologising to the cashier in front of you, and it snaps him clean away from the tiff he’s having with the men who live in his building. He glances up and you’re elbow-deep in the bag over your shoulder, red in the face with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. He turns his head slightly and sees the small hand-written sign that says the card machine isn’t working, and they’re cash only, today. 

He can hazard a guess at your predicament. 

After another few seconds of you trying to find whatever it is you’re looking for in your bag, he starts feeling bad for you. This, right here, is his own worst nightmare. Should the roles be reversed, he thinks he would’ve just turned around and walked out. It’s exactly why he doesn’t bother with backpacks and satchels day-to-day: if it doesn’t fit in his pockets, he doesn’t take it out with him. The system isn’t perfect but it has saved Jihoon a decent amount of public distress. 

But the roles aren’t reversed, and he has his wallet already in his hand, so… he only gives himself a few seconds to wonder if it’s appropriate before he does the stupid thing anyway.

“Don’t worry — I’ve got it,” he says, stepping around you, pulling out the cash to pay for your order. You’re dumbstruck when you look  at him, head tilted to the side. The person stood behind the counter glances at you, then at him, and back at you; you don’t see this, however, because your eyes haven’t left Jihoon’s face since he appeared — as far as you’re concerned — out of thin air.

“I can’t ask you to…” you start to protest, but your hands have stopped fishing around and he’s moving the cash further towards the barista, who hesitates just a second longer. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’ve got you.” He says this with such finality that you quite literally can’t argue with him. The lady behind the counter accepts the cash and you nod, shyly, mouthing a thank you. He orders his own drink — an Americano, nothing exciting — and you both go to stand at the other end of the counter while you wait.

“Hi,” you finally say, and Jihoon can’t help but give a small chuckle. 

He doesn’t have anything hugely witty or creative in his arsenal, though, so he comes back with a matching, “hey.”

“How… have you been?” you ask. 

“Can’t complain, really,” he says. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you around for a few weeks.” Oh, God — the second the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could take them back. Why did he have to add that last part? Why didn’t he just leave it at the question? 

“Yeah — about that,” you breathe, ducking your head to conceal the heat that’s spreading over your cheeks. “You know how I said I was staying with that friend?” He nods, and you continue. “I was waiting for some stuff to get sorted out with an apartment and it all finally got resolved, so… I’ve been moving my stuff over to a new place.”

Jihoon feels his heart sink for a moment, but he keeps his expression pleasant and engaged. His fingers threaten to give him away as they fiddle with the aglet on the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

“Sounds tiring,” he says lightly, and you laugh again, nodding. It’s odd, having his heart taking residence low in his stomach and somehow also in his throat, all while hammering away at a mile a minute. All the caffeine in the world couldn’t have this effect on him. “Is it going okay so far?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “It’s a process, but… it’ll be worth it.”

The barista behind the counter announces herself by clearing her throat and slides your drinks across the marble surface with a little glimmer in her eye. Jihoon picks them both up, extending yours out to you. There’s a pause (in which he swallows a large helping of self-doubt) as he glances to the door, working through several combinations of his next words in his mind before he looks back at you. 

“Do you… maybe have ten minutes to sit with these?” He asks. You light up immediately, not even checking the time on any of your devices, nor the wall clock behind your head. He doesn’t let himself think about why it makes him giddy that you’re accepting the offer, just like that.

“Yeah — yeah, sure.” You smile, walking through the lines of tables and sliding into one of the big, comfy chairs by the window. He unzips his jacket and slings it over the arm of the other chair before settling in himself, his long fingers wrapping around the to-go cup. The drink warms his perpetually cold palms and he sighs sweetly.

“You must be excited to get into the new place, then?” he asks after taking a sip, letting it heat him up from the inside. It could be argued that this job is already being taken care of, but Jihoon is not about to go there.

“Oh, God yes.” You nod, relaxing back in the seat with your own cup. Jihoon subconsciously leans a little forward in tandem. “It’s been fun staying with my friend, but…” You pause, lips slightly parted, before going on. “Okay, a warning: I’m a terrible person for this, I know. She’s done me a huge favour, letting me stay there — but I can’t deal with how untidy she is. It’s driving me nuts.”

A chuckle bubbles in Jihoon’s chest, cheeks starting to ache as his smile grows and grows. It hasn’t fallen since he sat down opposite you, and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, any time soon. “That bad?” he asks.

“You have no idea,” you groan, covering your face with one hand. He wishes you hadn’t — he thinks you look quite lovely when you’re all lit up like this. “She doesn’t clean her dishes after she eats — she piles them up in the sink for like, three days. I don’t think she’s used the vacuum the entire time I’ve been there. I keep finding wrappers and packets and mismatched socks everywhere —” 

His snort of laughter rolls off the back of his throat rather ungraciously and he settles back into his chair. You gently bump his ankle under the table with your foot, beaming at him. “I’m serious! I can’t live like this, Jihoon. I can’t!”

The more you speak, the less he can control the fits he’s descended into, and his abs start to ache after a while; there’s desperation in your voice but it’s just wrapped up so cutely in your lighthearted frustration and decoratively tied together with your sunshine smile… he can’t help it — he’s in pieces. It’s okay though, because you’re laughing too: it makes him think of fairies again, and he can picture you with dainty, intricately patterned wings under the soft lighting in the café. He wipes the corner of his eye with the heel of his hand as he starts to calm down, taking a few deep breaths all the way into his stomach.

“You’re so much stronger than I am,” he says.. “I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You know, I had a feeling you’d be a clean person, too,” you say, sipping at your coffee again. “I mean… I’ve never seen you use the gym showers, so I wasn’t sure, but…”

“Hey,” he says, mock-defensively. “I don’t trust the locks, okay? I shower at home!”

Your cup is lifted to your mouth and he can only see you from the nose upwards, but by the creases at the corners of your eyes, he knows you’re concealing a smile behind it as you nod back at him.

Ten minutes turns to twenty and then somehow becomes thirty — Jihoon starts feeling like you’re someone he’s known for years, and not just the person he accidentally ended up paying attention to in the gym just a couple of weeks ago. He bounces off you and you bounce off him. Both of you have long-since finished your drinks, too: there’s no real reason for either of you to still be here.

Except the obvious. 

“So, the apartment,” Jihoon says, leaning forwards again with his elbows resting on his knees. “Is it…?” He makes a few circular gestures with his hands with which he tries to imply something to the effect of ‘local’, or ‘nearby’, but he can’t quite bring himself to say that out loud. You seem to catch on though. Somehow.

Then again, you did say — a few subject changes ago — that Jihoon is on your wavelength. Maybe that’s it.

“About… a fifteen minute walk from here? Give or take,” you say, and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead so fast it’s like they’re on strings, being controlled by someone else. He doesn’t realise for a few seconds, by which point he isn’t even sure how to relax them. 

“No way?” he says, trying to feign nothing more than an idle interest. Obviously, he’s soaring. 

“Yeah. I’ll want to get back training soon, too, so there’s some incentive to get this done quickly. I miss it,” you tell him.

Jihoon comes out with what he says next without thinking. His mouth is moving before fully engaging his brain. It’s the coffee jitters. Apparently.

“Well, if you need any help with anything, I’ve got a car.”

“You’re too sweet,” you say. “I really couldn’t put you out like that, but…”

“You wouldn’t be,” he assures you with a shrug. “If I’m not working or in the gym… I’m never really that busy. It’s up to you, but-… I’d be happy to.”

You bite the inside of your lip for a moment, apparently mulling this over, before wiggling in your seat to pull your phone out of the front pocket of your jeans. You unlock the device and hand it over on a ‘new contact’ screen. 

Jihoon goes completely stupid: he thinks his brain stops functioning as he takes it to put his number in — for a moment, he’s staring dumbstruck, struggling to even remember the order of the digits now he’s under pressure, but it comes back to him eventually. His thumbs dart across the screen and he checks, double checks and triple checks that he’s typed it right before placing it back in your waiting palm. 

His fingertips brush against yours and it tickles, sending small shockwaves up his arms and straight into his chest. You smile down at your phone before glancing up at him.

“You need an emoji,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“Everyone in my contacts has one — I’ve been doing this since I was in high-school. You need to pick one, too.”

“Oh, uh-…” Jihoon swallows, and for some reason he’s completely forgotten every single little emoticon option there is. He draws a blank. “I can’t — you pick one for me. I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him for a second, pouting your lips as you seem to scroll through the endless options. Now and again, you look up at him, as if trying to see what best fits him before you continue your search. He waits. And waits. And waits. He’s about to throw in an admittedly useless suggestion of some sort of boring animal when you turn your phone around to show him what you’ve chosen.

Jihoon, the contact name reads. And there’s the little angel face next to it.

“Oh, come on,” he says, blushing deeply. “You can’t be serious.”

“I totally am,” you say proudly, turning it back and pressing to save it. He hides his face in his hands. “If you won’t pick your own, you get what you’re given. You did this to yourself.”

“Wow,” he chuckles weakly, sliding his hands up into his hair and raking it back off his face. Your eyes move quickly across every inch and boy, does he notice. You shrug in response and test it, sending the same little emoticon to him. He blushes harder when it comes through and he saves your number into his own phone before placing it face-down on the table. 

More than an hour after buying your coffee, Jihoon stretches his arms above his head and checks the time on his watch. He frowns slightly, not sure how the afternoon got away from him so fast, and lets out a sigh.

“I think I need to get going,” he says reluctantly. Leaving you is absolutely the opposite of what he wants to do, actually. Alas, “I have some friends coming over tonight.”

“Yeah — yeah, of course,” you smile, leaning to one side to pick your bag up off the floor. “No worries.”

You both move to stand up and he throws his coat over his arm, leading the way out. He holds open the door for you to leave first, then follows you outside into the afternoon sun. 

“It was really nice to see you,” you say, turning to face him. 

“You too,” he agrees. “Text me if you need anything, okay? But actually do. Don’t just say you will?”

You laugh sweetly. Fairies. His ears might have actually caught fire this time. “Okay, okay. I promise. I’ll text you — thank you.” There’s a pause, but only a tiny one. “And for the coffee, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, waving it off. You shake your head. He thinks your hands are twitching when you stuff them into your pockets but he can’t be sure. Your breath definitely stutters, though. 

“No, really. Um… next one’s on me?” 

He blinks, and blinks again. Next one? The next one? He feels like he’s malfunctioned and been forcibly rebooted. The next one? 

“I-…” he starts, his throat dry. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You nod, smiling with — what he doesn’t realise is — relief. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah — I’ll see you, y/n.”

—————

Jihoon has no choice but to admit defeat to the group chat that night when Seungcheol and Jeonghan come over for a takeout.

Within minutes, his oldest friend is asking about the girl from the gym — he’s been just as relentless as Seokmin and Soonyoung in quizzing Jihoon, except it’s slightly harder to deny to Seungcheol because he did witness, first-hand, the way you had his friend tripping over his own feet with a single smile. At first, Jihoon tries to shrug it off. Play it down. Change the subject. He doesn’t mention that he’s actually spoken to you since he and Cheol trained together, or that he accidentally bumped into you and paid for your coffee, or that you stayed talking with him for as long as you did. He definitely doesn’t say that you exchanged phone numbers. 

He absolutely won’t confess to being smitten. 

All Jihoon willingly admits to is that from what he’s seen of you around, you seem nice, and with a roll of his eyes he does agree that he thinks you’re attractive. He gets a bit of a glare later in the evening when  Jeonghan asks if he’s thought about where he wants to take you on your first date, and Jihoon tells him to stop asking stupid questions and eat his chicken before he eats it for him. But all in all he thinks he evades the worst of it pretty well. For now, anyway — he knows their pestering isn’t going away any time soon. 

Especially not when, on their way out, Seungcheol leans close and whispers that whatever is going on with his gym crush, it suits him. Jihoon jabs him on the arm and the two men leave, laughing brightly.

It’s about an hour after his friends have gone home, having washed the dishes and cleaned up his apartment that Jihoon is sitting on his living room floor doing a few lower body stretches before he turns in for the night. He finds himself tapping into your text thread — not for the first time this evening — and skimming over the short conversation you had earlier. You messaged him when you got back to your friend’s place to thank him for the third time, and Jihoon replied back telling you that if you didn’t stop being silly, he was never going to respond to you again. Your reply came in the form of a “:(“ and his was a simple “:)”. That was it, but he’s been thinking about the exchange ever since. 

He’s not sure why. Nor is he certain what about that has him looking down at the messages and grinning like a fool in his apartment, alone, at 10:30pm on a Sunday night. He could probably take a stab in the dark at what it means, though. He rubs at the back of his neck with one hand as he changes conversations and types out a short message with the other. 

jihoon: fine. you’re right. 

seokmin: ?

soonyoung: probs true, does need context

jihoon: about the gym girl. you’re right. 

soonyoung: OH

seokmin: Hahahahahaha

seokmin: Yeah, you’re definitely the last to know, dude

soonyoung: fr even chan and hansol know atp lmao 

jihoon: they what?

jihoon: how do they know?

jihoon: they don’t go to my gym! i haven’t seen them in weeks!

soonyoung: because we told them????? 

seokmin: So, we might have told everyone

jihoon: blocking both of your numbers immediately.

seokmin: Hey! We’re just glad you’ve accepted it

seokmin: When do we get to meet her?

jihoon: blocked.

Well, great, Jihoon thinks as he fights the urge to lay face down on the floor and let the laminate cool his searingly hot cheeks. 

At least he’s admitted it now. 

He’s vaguely confirmed in writing that maybe he has a bit of a thing for you — it’s out in the open and at minimum, two of his friends know that it’s real. Straight from the horse’s mouth. Fingers. Whatever. No doubt by morning, all of his friends will have found out. The point stands that he hasn’t confessed to something like this since he was approximately sixteen years old, so whatever you’re doing to him, whatever this… is, it matters. 

So, he asks himself, standing up off the hardwood floor and stretching his spine, arms locked behind him and pushed back as far as they can go. He turns off all the lights, checks the front door, goes through the motions to get himself ready for bed. So… what the fuck am I supposed to do now?

—————

Come Monday evening, he’s about ready to hit the roof.

As far as bad days go, Jihoon thinks he’s in the running for one of the worst ever. He slept awfully, tossing and turning through the night despite the usual winning combination of freshly washed bed sheets and his white noise machine drowning out the occasional disturbance from the street below. He wakes up two minutes before his alarm is due to go off, only to discover he fell asleep before plugging his phone in to charge overnight, and it’s sitting at a very risky 13%. The gel he uses to keep his hair off his face at work has gone weird and only does half a job, strands tumbling back in front of his eyes the second he goes to leave his apartment, very nearly forgetting his keys. Then, to really put the cherry on top, he sees that — at some point between getting home yesterday and now — someone has scraped his car while parking up next to him. There’s a large scratch right down the passenger side, with no note nor reliable CCTV in his apartment’s parking lot to confirm who it was, and of course, the space is currently empty. 

All this before he even gets to work.

He fundamentally knows that starting the week off with a bad attitude will only lead to a really shitty remainder, but when Vernon sends his routine ‘Monday Motivation’ booster message — “you’re going to have a great day, today!” — into the group chat, Jihoon responds with a crude photo of his middle finger, right in front of the massive scuff on the bodywork of his Hyundai. Jeonghan replies with an ‘oof’, Wonwoo with a ‘yikes’, and Joshua, ever the comedian, sends a picture of Garfield lying face-down captioned ‘Mondays’ that nobody replies to. All responses feel kind of appropriate. But he pockets his phone without sending anything else, sighing again; he locks the car and checks the handle just in case before he finally heads into the building.

It’s going to be a long day. He just has to get through it.

Things don’t necessarily improve. He ends up in and out of meetings all day, so when 5 o’clock rolls around and he’s on his way out the door, he’s feeling a bit like he’s done nothing of actual value. Just, for some reason, thinking about you and tapping out a catchy beat on the top of his desk as he pretends to pay attention to useless presentation after useless presentation. But it’s still somehow been exhausting on his brain and on the drive back to his apartment, Jihoon feels so drained that he contemplates skipping the gym altogether and going straight to bed. This internal argument takes up most of his journey, but it does keep him occupied during the rush-hour traffic if it does nothing else. 

Nothing has ever been fixed by ruining a perfectly good routine, however — so no sooner than he’s back in his apartment, he changes out of his button-down and trousers and into his regular gym gear. His protein shaker is ready on the counter for when he’s home again, the lights are off, his bag is on his shoulder and the door is locked. He pushes against it a few times, checking out of habit, despite the fact that his only neighbours on this floor are Soonyoung, Seokmin and an elderly couple with a cat they’re not technically supposed to have. Nobody tells, though, because Boots has become everyone’s emotional support animal. The only actual security threat is Seokmin maybe stealing something from his fridge, but he’s only ever satisfied after the third test anyway. 

A quick warmup and a few easy stretches later, Jihoon sets about his business. Mondays are for training legs (and often, as a result, incapacitating himself for the rest of the week), and these workouts are always some of his most intense.

So intense, in fact, that he’s sweating buckets and cherry red when he steps away from the squat rack, tugging up the hem of his t-shirt to dry his face, a brief flash of his toned abdomen on full view. He’s just about catching his breath when he glances in the mirror, and his knees nearly give out when he sees you walking in. You lock eyes and smile at him in the reflection as you start to walk towards him.

It’s not just any smile, but he’s way too flustered to notice.

He spins around to face you, mortally embarrassed that you definitely just saw that, but in a weird way… kind of elated? You drop your headphones to sit around the back of your neck to greet him as you get closer. He pushes his hair back off his forehead and tries to act as cool as he can, but Jihoon suddenly becomes incredibly aware of everything about himself in this moment: his posture, how his arms hang by his sides, the exact positioning of his feet. The fact that he’s breathing pretty deeply, that his pulse is so loud in his ears that he can see your lips moving but can’t quite hear what you’re saying.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit — you’re talking. Focus. He needs to focus. 

“Sorry — what was that?” he asks, eliciting a soft laugh from you.

“I like your shirt,” you repeat, a fraction clearer. Jihoon glances down at himself, at the same sweatpants and tight black workout top he wears in here several times a week, and looks back at you with a raised eyebrow. God, he lets himself think for half a second, entertaining his own stupidity with the idea that you’re finding this as hard as he is, too. Maybe I’m not alone in this. 

“Oh?” he says. “Um — thank you?”

“How’d it go with your friends last night?” you ask, hardly skipping a beat, and he’s a little thankful that you skim over his poor attempt at gratitude for a compliment he isn’t sure he deserves. Instead, his confusion wraps itself around the fact that you actually remembered what he was doing last night. Hell, even he’d forgotten in the heat of the day he’d had, but you remembered. He’s sweating over it a little and briefly wonders what the chances are of the gym floor opening up and swallowing him whole.

Slim, he decides. But not zero. 

There’s hope.

“Yeah — yeah, it was nice,” he says, internally kicking himself for overthinking this so much that he’s apparently lost his ability to speak. In the space of 24 hours, he’s gone from giggling over coffee with you to completely weak just at the sound of your voice. It should be easier here, if anything — this is home turf for him. His comfort space. He supposes the tight fit of your gym clothes accentuating your hips and thighs isn’t helping matters, and neither is the wide neckline of your own t-shirt exposing your throat and a collarbone. But still. He’s not a teenager. He should be able to handle a little bit of skin. 

He clears his throat, rolling his head side-to-side. Focus. “Sorry — I’m-… I just didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. “I-… couldn’t stay away. Missed it a little too much.”

“I get that,” he concurs, willing his eyes not to drop down your frame to a newly exposed area of skin just around your waist, your t-shirt riding up as you adjust your bag on your shoulder. “It’s good to-… have you back, anyway.”

“Good to be back,” you agree. “Hey — can you leave that set up for me, when you’re done? I’m on legs today, too.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to say that he knows Mondays are your leg days, as well, so he doesn’t. Even if it is true. He wonders if you would find it odd that he’s remembered. “Sure,” he says with a small smile, which you return. Just as you’re about to walk off to drop your things into a locker, he pipes up again. “I mean — hey, if you wanted a spot, or to-… do, you know… anything…”

“Are you asking me to train with you?” you ask, eyes bright and smile wider than he thinks he’s ever seen it. This is torture. He’s not even lifting anything and his heart is about to burst out of his fucking chest — God, maybe this was a bad suggestion.

“I-…” he starts, but he lets the breath out of his lungs and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah. I am.”

“Give me two minutes,” you agree, hurrying off to put your stuff away and fill up your bottle.

He manages to squeeze another set of squats in before you get back, which is sort of a miracle seeing as how his knees have gone completely weak ever since you arrived. He’s scrolling through his playlist as you cross the gym floor on your way back to him, but he looks up and smiles as you approach. 

“You go ahead — I’ve just finished.”

He knows he’s really fucking done for when, after the first round, you add plates onto the bar to out-lift him. All before he’s even positioned himself behind you to be a good spotter.

Jihoon doesn’t go down without a fight though, and things get a little competitive from there. Both of you throw some of your favourite (see: most agonising) exercises into the mix over the course of the hour, taking it in turns on the equipment and creating a session that just about has him able to move by the time you’re finished. You talk to each other when you’ve got the breath to do so, otherwise focussing on your workout with more intensity than either of you remember training with for a long time. 

And so what if he has to turn away from you once or twice to compose himself when breathless whines spill from between your lips on your last few reps, the sheer effort of the movements pushing your muscles to their absolute limit? So what if he feels his entire body run a thousand degrees every time you sweetly encourage him to manage just one more? So what if his palm stays tingling for fifteen seconds every time you high-five him for a set well done?

You slide out of the hamstring curl machine with a deep breath and legs like two sticks of jelly at the end of the session, and he holds a hand out to steady you as you regain your ability to weight-bear.

“You okay?” he asks, and you nod, patting what’s exposed of your chest and neck with your towel. 

“Yeah. Yeah — just… fuck.” You laugh, laying your hand over the top of his and squeezing. Only for a second — not even, only for a breath — and really just to let him know that you’re okay to stand on your own, but Jihoon feels a bit like he’s been electrocuted straight up his arm all the same. “You don’t come to play, do you?”

“Says you,” he scoffs, only now moving his hand from your upper arm. “I was wrong about you — you’re insane. Clinically insane.” 

Using the paper towels he went to gather while you were finishing up, he wipes the machine clean as you stretch out your now slightly exercise-swollen thighs. 

“I was just gonna finish up on one of the stairmasters,” you tell him, taking a long sip of your water. His eyes widen to the point of comedy, eyebrows high on his forehead. You snicker at his horror, the rim of your bottle hovering tantalisingly over your bottom lip. “What?”

“That’s-… got to be a form of masochism,” he says, exhausted just at the idea of marching up the never ending staircase even for a minute. You almost choke on your mouthful of water, only just swallowing it in time before a sudden, uncontrollable laugh erupts from your chest. 

“How?!” you ask, covering your mouth with your hand. Just like yesterday, the urge to pull your arm away, to reveal your hidden smile strikes him. He doesn’t act on it, but he wants to.

“What do you mean, how? Why would you put yourself through that after what you’ve just done?” It’s completely lighthearted, and the rush of heat on your cheeks intensifies at the cocktail of shock and awe in his gaze.

You shrug your shoulders once. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just better than you.” The way the tip of your tongue teasingly sits between your teeth as you grin at him sends bullets of adrenaline through his veins and Jihoon runs his hand over his face.

For about three seconds, he tells himself he isn’t going to take the bait. He’ll lose, he’ll admit it — he’ll put his hands up and say you’re absolutely, definitely better than he is, if it means he doesn’t have to push through a round of cardio after surpassing every single one of his physical limits. But God, he thinks you look completely irresistible standing there challenging him like this, your hands on your hips. His eyes don’t leave yours and yours don’t leave his; both of your chests stutter, just a little bit, and he can see your smile grow in his periphery.

How the fuck is he supposed to walk away?

“Ten minutes,” he concedes, matching your footsteps as you start to walk backwards towards his least favourite line of equipment in any gym, ever. “And you’re definitely getting the next coffee, now.”

——————

That Friday, you finally text him again.

His muscles have just about returned to a working state and Jihoon is quite proud to say that he has regained the ability to sit down without needing something to hold onto. He got home from work, showered the day away and has just settled down into the sofa to start on the book Wonwoo has been on his ass about reading when his phone vibrates on the side table. He reaches over for it, trying to figure out which of his friends might be trying to get hold of him early evening on a Friday, and already going over excuses in his head as to why he can’t go out to do whatever they’re inviting him to. But when your contact name flashes up on the screen, every single thought disappears from his brain.

y/n: hey :)

y/n: just out of interest, how good are you at assembling furniture?

He furrows his brows at this. There’s a very obvious answer, which is that he’s not. He doesn’t want to reply saying so, though, so he goes for what he thinks is the next best thing.

jh: well…

jh: what are you trying to put together?

y/n: a bed :(

y/n: today’s your rest day, right?

y/n: can i bribe you with dinner after? :)

Oh? His brain stalls, fingers hovering over the keypad. He can literally see your face forming a little pout before growing into a hopeful grin in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t see how he could ever say no. 

jh: apparently yes, you can.

jh: text me the address? i’ll leave in 5.

He changes out of his basketball shorts and hoodie in record time, abandoning Wonwoo’s book on his couch in favour of attempting to look at least somewhat presentable for you. He tugs on a pair of jeans that he hasn’t touched in about 6 months and one of his nicer t-shirts instead, even going as far as to spritz aftershave on the column of his throat. You’ve sent him your address and he makes to leave, doing his regular essential item pat-down on his way out the door. He puts your new apartment into his phone as he crosses the parking lot, stupidly delighted to discover it’s only 7 and a half minutes away from where he lives, and settles into his car with a series of deep exhales.

The breathing exercises don’t achieve much. His head is still spinning when he parks up in the street by your new place and lingers just outside the building. He sends you a text to say he’s arrived and you reply saying you’re on your way down. You appear in the lobby just a few minutes later.

“Hey,” you greet him warmly, crossing the space and putting your arms around him in a hug. He goes limp for a fraction of a second before his arms slide around you, too. God, he hopes you can’t feel his heartbeat right now. He thinks that the effect you have on him should be considered dangerous. But whether you can or not, you tighten your arms to squeeze him once before you unwind them from around his neck and step away. 

“Hi,” he says, feverish from the tops of his ears all the way down to his toes. His hands find his pockets as you take a few more polite steps back.

“Thank you so much for this.” Your bottom lip finds temporary home between your teeth before you’re nodding back towards the stairwell. “I’m on the third floor. Follow me.”

He does. He walks up the stairs behind you as you ask about his day at work, and he tells you that he thinks today has probably been one of the best he’s had in about 2 months. When he asks how your day went, you turn your head back to look at him and stumble on the next step, gently laughing and saying that you think you’re at your tether’s end with D.I.Y, but it’s been pretty good otherwise. By the time you reach your floor, his thighs are aching, a bit of residual fatigue from your session earlier in the week making it a little harder than it ought to be. He can’t imagine how you’ve coped every day since then; if his own building didn’t have an elevator, Jihoon thinks he’d have been sleeping in his car.

You give him a little tour of the apartment, and he stands next to you at the window as you point out where you were staying with your friend a few blocks away. He thinks the view is seriously pretty in the evening light, enchanted by how he can see the tops of the slightly lower buildings and the street below, lined with neon storefronts and currently alive with shoppers and bar-goers, but… He cringes at himself for thinking it, but the view through the glass is nothing compared to the one he has inside. 

You’ve started to put up a few decorations and knick-knacks around the place too. He doesn’t know you very well, but he still thinks it’s very you — all of it, and he likes them. Even with the room full of boxes and half-unpacked cases, there’s so much personality in it already. Charm. He brushes off your attempts to apologise for the ‘mess’, as you called it, despite everything being neatly pushed out of the way of the main space. It’s easily tidier than any other mid-move apartment he’s ever been in. 

“Did you want a drink?” you ask him, walking over to the refrigerator and resting a hand on the door. “I’ve got wine, or-… anything, really.” 

“Just some water would be great,” he says appreciatively, and a few seconds later you’re handing him a bottle, turning another one over in your hand. “I really wouldn’t be much help after a couple of glasses, trust me.”

“Does this mean you are good at it, then? Before a drink?” you ask him. Is it hope in your voice? Or do you somehow know how hopeless he is, and are you teasing? He can’t tell. Regardless, clearly his evasion earlier wasn’t quite as successful as he hoped it would be.

“About that…” He chuckles, taking a sip from the bottle and glancing sideways at you. “I’m sure between the two of us, we’ll figure it out.”

“My knight in shining armour,” you say with a laugh, closing your fingers around his wrist and leading him through the door to your bedroom. You’ve managed to separate all of the individual pieces, but you haven’t made any real progress otherwise. He settles himself down on the floor and reaches for the assembly manual, pursing his lips as he looks at the little baggies of screws and bolts and various other things he doesn’t know the names of.

“Okay.” He frowns, looking back up at you where you’ve kneeled down a couple of feet away. You’re grinning innocently back at him, but Jihoon’s lips are more aligned with a pout. “You maybe should have mentioned that the instructions are in Swedish.”

——-

Ignoring the fact that you can’t understand the directions printed on the flimsy little pieces of paper, you get to work. It’s… an interesting process, but somehow between the pair of you, you successfully manage to assemble the bed in just under two hours by mostly following the diagrams (and having to backtrack several times because Jihoon managed to miss a few steps). At three minutes to nine, you’re both finally standing up off the floor, stretching out stiff joints and tight muscles; the bed is fully assembled and made up with your sheets in the centre of the room, headboard against the back wall, the lamp you set on the dresser casting a pleasant orangey glow on every surface.

“We did it,” you say, a little in shock, a lot exhausted, and absolutely starving. At least, that’s what he assumes you’re feeling, because it’s what he is. “We actually did it.”

“I mean, you did most of it,” Jihoon says. It’s true; at a point, he was just handing you the pieces you asked him for and holding parts steady so that you could fit them together. But if you want to call it a joint effort, he isn’t going to stop you, and the roll of your eyes tells him that you do want to call it that. 

“Shh. You helped,” you scold him, bumping his upper arm with your elbow. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“If you say so,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his water. Jihoon isn’t sure he believes you, but the way you’re challenging him to argue further with your tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek scrambles his brain. Any remaining argument dies on his lips. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” you agree, expression shifting into a shy smile, bumping his arm again, your elbow lingering against him for a second longer. “Come on, I think I promised to feed you, too. What are you in the mood for?”

A movie has been playing in the background for about an hour by the time your food arrives and you’ve eaten everything. Jihoon relaxes back against the cushions of the couch and you’re settled comfortably next to him: there’s plenty of space on either side of you both, so there isn’t really any need for you to have your upper arm basically pressing against his, but Jihoon is too comfortable to say anything and you certainly aren’t making any attempts to move away. You shift your legs after about ninety minutes, bringing them up underneath you so your thigh is pressed against his now, as well, and you’re twisted slightly so you’re physically facing him but your head is still turned towards the TV.

Everywhere your clothed body touches him is scorching, and he wonders if maybe he should’ve worn a thinner t-shirt, or at the very least something a little less heavy on his legs. His jeans, slightly tighter around the thighs than perhaps would be their peak level of comfort, are clinging to him everywhere and he’s so aware of himself, so aware of you, of your sweet body wash, your fruity shampoo, every single one of your breaths… He’s cursed people out for breathing too loudly around him before, but he thinks he could replace his white noise machine with an eight hour track of just this and he would sleep like a fucking baby.

One of your elbows is propped against the top of the cushions behind you and you’re resting your head in your palm, and (not for the first time this evening) he glances sideways to look at you. They’ve been fleeting glances thus far, only stealing fractions of a moment before he turns his attention back to the TV. But this? This is the wrong moment. Entirely the wrong fucking moment because as his head turns, so does yours, and you catch him in the act. Fuck, if he thought he was burning up, before? He’s pretty sure he’s somehow just descended straight to the second circle of hell, greeting all the other lusty sinners like old friends. Several of his thoughts tonight have been considerably impure, and in this half second of blistering eye contact, they all come rushing back.

The universe is really testing him this evening, and Jihoon is stumbling. It feels like any minute now, he’s going to explode.

He straightens his spine and looks back at the TV, trying to force his eyes to focus even though he’s completely swallowed by the feeling of your arm straightening across the back of the couch, your fingertips grazing over the skin at the bottom of his hairline. He can feel your eyes still on him, your gaze burning into his cheek, no doubt following as his tongue darts out subconsciously over his lips. But he can’t quite help himself, can’t get the image of how sweet you looked out of his head; he clears his throat quietly and looks over at you again, coming over almost completely blank the second he notices the glimmer your eyes hold when they’re trained on him. 

Any. Fucking. Minute. 

“Jihoon, I-…” you start to say, and he turns himself a little bit so that he’s facing you better, completely forgetting about the movie now. That’s not a great loss: he couldn’t explain the plot even if he tried. “I don’t know if-… you can tell me if I’ve read you wrong…”

“You haven’t,” he hurries. Relief starts to ease the tension between your brows, before you scrunch them again and cock your head to the side. “I’m sure you haven’t, I mean.”

In this new position, one of his legs is bent and sitting up on the couch beneath him and you’ve adjusted your own posture to accommodate. Your knee sits just over the top of his, more of your impossible body heat radiating through his clothes, and he glances down at the site of contact before he looks back at you. 

“I just-... I don’t know, I think I knew I was interested in you from the first time I saw you, but the last few weeks especially…” You’ve been rehearsing this. He can feel it. It’s written in your eyes, holding the weight of the words you’re struggling to say, and behind them he can see cogs turning as you try to get the words in the right order. (He knows how that goes, because he’s been trying to figure out how to tell you, too.) He nods, urging you to keep going.

“I can’t get you out of my head. I really like you.”

He short-circuits, then. Even though part of him knew what you were going to say, hearing it out loud flips a switch inside him and he stops functioning. Blinking at you slowly, lips parted, heart racing – he feels as if his brain has been sucked clean out of his ears and is floating somewhere way above his head. Way outside of a contactable range, way beyond any level of rational decision-making. Jihoon knows what he wants to say, of course – he knows that he wants to say that he likes you, and that he has for a while, and that maybe you should let him take you out on a date or something, but all of that sits just behind the barrier of his teeth, so…

He leans forward and kisses you, instead.

He almost can’t believe that he’s only wanted this for as short of a time as he has; it feels like it’s been building inside him for so much longer. Relief floods through his veins, the emotional dam finally breaching. It only lasts a few seconds, but with his lips pressed to yours and yours pressing back, the static in his brain goes quiet, the movie falls silent: everything stops, except you. He thinks you could’ve been carved from stone around each other — he thinks something just feels so inexplicably right. Your hand tightens in his hair and he gasps softly as he pulls an inch back, eyes heavily lidded and looking straight at you through his lashes. You move forward, leaning your forehead against his, and the feather-light hold he has on your chin slides up to your cheek instead. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to-…” he says after a long, long moment of remembering how to breathe, how to blink, how to exist in your space without combusting on the spot. He still isn’t sure he knows how to do any of those things, especially not now he can see every single line of your face this close. He’s trying, though. “But — shit, I’m crazy about you.”

You kiss him, then, harder than before, colliding in a mess of half-finished breaths and bumped, stinging noses. His other hand comes up to sit against your rib cage, yours pressing into the material of his t-shirt over his chest. He smiles and parts his lips as yours move against them, your tongue gently sweeping into his mouth, finding his own; a soft, low moan tickles the back of his throat, his fingertips curling slightly to tighten his hold. 

Jihoon isn’t sure how you end up on your knees, straddled astride his legs with one of his hands tucked between your thigh and calf, the other on the curve of your ass — he just knows that he doesn’t mind one bit. You’re warm and comfortable, the arch of your back pressing you into him deliciously. He’s kissing you like his life depends on it (he really fears that it might), and you’re doing the same back, licking against his tongue and rocking slightly with every separation and reconnection of your lips. He feels your fingers brush at the hem of his t-shirt and slip just underneath at the same moment as you pull away from him, and he’s so dazed, so fuzzy, so lost in you that he can only tilt his head back to stare up at your face. In your current position, you’re towering over him. It’s easily the best view he’s ever had.

“Can I-…?” you ask breathlessly. The new roughness to your voice goes straight to his cock and he has to restrain himself from bucking his hips upwards.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward slightly to try and aid you. Your hands tug at the bottom of his shirt and peel it up over his chest: he raises his arms slightly and soon, you can toss it to the unoccupied side of the couch. He shivers slightly as he relaxes back, both at the chill in your unheated apartment and upon noticing the way you’re staring down at him. It’s addictive. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, jaw a little slack, smoothing your hands over his shoulders to feel every ridge of hard-earned muscle. You travel down his arms, over to his chest, down his stomach… Jihoon sucks in a breath, your warm hands absolutely searing against his skin, and his abdominals tighten beneath them. Tilting your head, you press a line of kisses down the side of his neck, your lips brushing against one almost unbearably sensitive spot when you continue. “Fuck, you’re so hot.”

He smiles bashfully, rolling his head to the side and giving you all the access you want. Your lips tickle euphorically against him as he tugs you flush against his chest, both his hands now tightly pressing against your ass, fingers kneading the muscle concealed by your pants. You’re sitting right over his clothed cock and he’s reasonably sure he can feel your pulse between your thighs, letting out a soft grunt when you roll your hips deliberately down into his own. Your kisses travel to the swell at the curve of his shoulder before moving back up to his lips, where he meets you with a fire that he’s never kissed anyone with, before.

“Says you,” he murmurs into your mouth, your teeth clashing, his hips pushing slightly up off the couch. Just enough to make you sit back from him, just enough for Jihoon to open his eyes and look at you. His hair, thoroughly scrunched up and pulled around by your desperately gripping fingers, fans out at all sorts of angles and his chest has taken on a rosy hue since you last looked at it. With swollen, shiny lips, glossy eyes, breathing deep, he looks completely blissed out, like a man who could unravel beneath you if you moved just right. All from a little tongue action. He’d usually feel embarrassed, but it’s hard to when you’re the person on top of him; to be honest, neither of you would mind much if he did.

You’re pushing yourself up and off him before he can really get his bearings and an audible whine of despair parts his lips at the loss of your weight against his cock. Fuck, these jeans were a bad idea: he’s straining against the denim so much that it hurts, and there’s a near perfect outline of his hard-on. He stops pouting the second you take hold of his hand and tug him upright, though, your eyes dark and determined and intense. He thinks he might faint, actually: from standing too fast and feeling as though all the blood in his body is pulsing through his aching dick, he has to take a moment to stop the edges of his vision going dark before you’re pulling him through to your bedroom.

Something flips inside him the second you have him there. Jihoon, who was more than happy to sit beneath you and let you take all the control in the living room, is pushing you back onto the mattress by your shoulder and slotting himself between your parted thighs the moment the door is closed behind him. He’s past the point of wanting you, now: he needs you, and he needs you to need him, too. 

And God, do you. You prop yourself up on one elbow, staring at where he’s now leaning over you with wide eyes and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He bends down and kisses along your jawline in response, nipping gently just below your ear. Your back arches up and in a flash, one of his hands is beneath you, snapping open the clasp on your bra with a few slides of his fingers.

“Wh-…” you start, giggling and panting at the same time. He smirks against your pulse point. 

He flattens his tongue against you and licks a salty bead of sweat off your skin. “What?”

“Had no idea you could-…” You’re cut off by a gasp as one of his hands slides under your sweater, slipping beneath the garment he just unfastened. His fingertips graze over your breast and a pleading sob escapes you. His smile grows even wider. “You were so…”

“So what?” he prompts, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Another one of those beautiful sounds breaks the air above you. He does it again, massaging your breast with the palm of his hand. “Come on… talk to me.”

“So good,” you gasp, lying down flat and tilting your head back against the pillows. He rocks forwards to press his cock against you again and your thighs tighten around his hips, one leg hooking around his to keep him there. “So-… fucking good.”

You’re so impossibly irresistible to him, especially like this, and he sits up, settling on his knees to look down at you. Jihoon doesn’t even get the chance to move his hands towards the hem of your sweater to tug it off you though: you’re already grabbing it yourself, crossing your arms to pull it over the top of your head. He can see your bra now, and hell, it’s pretty even if it is just hanging off you. Baby pink and lacy. He thumbs over the material as he helps you pull it down your arms, briefly letting himself wonder if-…

“If only you’d been patient enough to see the set together.”

Oh, so you can read his mind now, too? 

You glance down to the small space between your bodies and his eyes follow, lips slightly parted, a heavy sigh on his breath. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck — he wishes he had. Even imagining it, he’s throbbing.

“You wear all this for me?” he asks, hands creeping up the insides of your thighs. You nod up at him and he smiles down at you. “Fuck. I bet you didn’t even need my help tonight at all, did you?”

You’re bucking your hips now as his thumb brushes, agonisingly slowly, over your clothed cunt. One arm has come up to cover your face: for the first time, he acts on his impulsive need to see you shy, see you needy, and leans over you to gently pull it away and pins your wrist down against the mattress. He kisses you, his fingers on the other hand pressing slightly more firmly to where he’s pretty sure your clit is.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. Let me see you.”

“I didn’t,” you admit, voice wobbling as he works you up so much you’re actually soaking through not just your pretty underwear, but the leggings you’ve had on all night, too. He can feel it against the pad of his thumb and he raises his eyebrows for you to continue. “Just… really wanted you to come over…”

“Mhm. I know,” he soothes, bending low again and kissing down towards your chest. His lips purse over one of your nipples and he sucks it up into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud. He releases your wrist with the hand currently taking most of his weight and leans on his elbow, teasing your other tit with his fingers. The weight of it in his palm has him murmuring soft praises against your skin, telling you over and over how good you feel. You push up onto your elbows to try and press him closer — when his teeth tug just slightly, you’re about ready to beg.

“Jihoon, please,” you murmur. He short-circuits, again. Goes blank. His name has always sounded so much sweeter on your tongue, but this? This? Oh, he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to recover. That sound is going to stick in his head for days, months, forever, if he has anything to say about it. But even if his brain isn’t working, his body moves on autopilot: he sits up and hooks his fingers under your waistband, pulling your pants down your legs and discarding them onto the floor. 

He’s staring between your thighs with zero functioning brain cells and literal galaxies in his eyes, trying to figure out what cosmic miracle brought someone like you into his life, how on Earth he’s ended up between your thighs. The question is so overwhelming in his mind that he barely notices that you’re moving, at first. Jihoon doesn’t know what causes you to try and bring your thighs together — if it’s shyness or arousal, desperation, a search for friction? — but he stops you as soon as he realises, laying a hand on each of your legs, pinning your knees down now, instead.

“Keep your legs wide for me?” he asks, to which you punctuate a nod with an assenting hum. “Good girl.” 

You’re so wet that when he strokes two fingers over your covered pussy, pressing the fabric of your panties into your heat, they come away thinly coated in the arousal that’s seeped through them. He brings his fingers to his lips then, eyes fluttering as he licks your slick off them. You taste otherworldly and he doesn’t hesitate to tell you so with a groan.

“God,” he murmurs, tugging at the waistband of your panties with his other hand. His eyes ask if you’re ready — if you’re sure, and when you nod down at him, he pulls them off completely too. His middle finger slips between your folds, collecting the wetness dribbling out of you, and he drags it slowly upwards towards your clit. He repositions himself again, leaning down over you with his head at your neck, the heel of his hand resting against your lower abdomen. He draws small circles over the bud, laying open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone and listening to the gorgeous sounds you make, learning what you like, following each gasp and moan and chasing as many of them as he can draw out of you.   

At the same time as you start rocking your hips up to meet his hand, your nails scratching gently against his scalp again, Jihoon slips his finger down from your swollen clit to press it inside you. You gasp, high-pitched and needy, your cunt spasming around his finger and pulling it in deeper. He’s only in up to his second knuckle but the way you keen for him has him pushing further until it’s buried inside your pussy completely. 

“S’this okay?” he asks, but he knows your answer thanks to your vocal responses to him already slowly easing his finger in and out, in and out. You nod your head almost aggressively as he glances up at your face, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, jaw tense, throat bobbing as you swallow hard. 

“More — please,” you say not long after. A breath hitches in your throat when he does exactly what you ask, pressing the heel of his hand against your clit and positioning another finger at your entrance. He flexes his wrist slightly to get comfortable, pumping both fingers into you now, and he curls them upwards at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed. “Fuck — mhm, just like that—…”

He moves down your body slightly, reattaching his lips to one of your nipples as he fingers you deep and slow. He’s in no rush: Jihoon thinks he could do this all day and just deal with the RSI later on. You look so unbelievably hot with your face scrunched in pleasure, your thighs quivering as you fight to keep them apart like he asked you to, with your hips twisting down against his hand to try and get his fingers deeper and faster. When he lowers himself all the way down, settling completely between your thighs, he flicks his tongue out over your clit and your back arches up off the bed with a gasp.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, all high-pitched and rushed, both syllables merging into one hurried sound. “Fuck, fuck — please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not going to,” he murmurs, keeping pace and rhythm as he works you towards your high. God, he thinks there couldn’t possibly be anything in the world more sexy than watching you come undone from this angle. Your chest rising and falling in stuttered breaths, your hips rocking down against his hand, your pussy right on his mouth. Just the thought of it has his cock jumping in his boxers. “You gonna come for me, huh?”

“I-…” you start, releasing your death-grip on the bedsheets to bring a hand to cover your face. He clears his throat deliberately — perhaps it’s sort of closer to a growl than a cough — and he thinks maybe you really can read his mind, or maybe you’re learning that he wants to see every inch of you (especially like this), because a second later, it’s tangled up in his hair and holding him in place. “Y-yeah, fuck, I…”

“Good girl,” he coos again, and that breaks you. Your pussy tightens around his fingers and you feel yourself convulse, muscles clenching and releasing as you go over the edge with a cry. He eases you through your climax, tongue laving over your clit, fingers slowing but not stopping inside your cunt until your thighs close around his head in your oversensitivity. He takes the hint, then, and he slowly pulls away, sucking his fingers clean of your arousal while you take a few breaths to recover.

“Oh, my God,” you sigh as he moves back up and starts pressing small pecks over your chest and collarbones, your fingers lacing through his hair again to pull him up to kiss you. You groan softly at the taste of yourself on his lips, and can’t blame you. He still isn’t over it, either.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you in-between kisses, one hand supporting the back of your neck to keep you close. “So pretty. So sweet. So good.”

“Shh,” you giggle, but he doesn’t. Just about every adoring adjective Jihoon has in his arsenal is murmured against your lips until you’ve gathered enough strength to get up on your knees and push him back onto the mattress, fumbling with the button of his jeans. 

He groans at the relief as you tug them down over his hips and thighs. “We don’t have to do anything else if you’re—”

“Shh.” This one’s a little more insistent, and he makes a show of clamping his lips back together. “You wore the tightest jeans on the planet, had your cock on-fucking-display for me all evening, and you think I wanna stop now?”

His jaw falls slack at the words that come out of your mouth. The incredulous way with which you say them has him involuntarily bucking up into nothing. Your expression matches his when you finally get his jeans all the way off and his thin, black boxer-briefs are the only barrier between you. The outline of his cock strains against them, tenting the fabric: Jihoon doesn’t miss the way you lick over your lips before glancing up at him through your eyelashes. It’s your turn to give him the look, now, asking that this last part is okay, with your fingertips hooked underneath the elastic waistband. He nods feverishly up at your heavy gaze.

“Please,” he groans, lifting his hips so you can pull them off. His length springs free the moment they’re pulled low enough, slapping back against his abdomen, sitting pretty against his toned muscles, thick and veiny and red-tipped. Desperate. His underwear joins the pile of clothes down the side of the bed as you throw one leg over him; sitting across his thighs, you take his cock into your hand, giving it a few gentle strokes. He fucks up into your palm when you squeeze your fingers around it.

“I need you so fucking bad,” you murmur, head spinning, and Jihoon isn’t in much of a better state himself; he’s fighting to keep his eyes open, fighting to keep his breaths coming. He sits upright, one arm behind him for support, and kisses you hard as you continue to tug at his length. 

“Need you, too,” he breathes, shifting so he has both arms around you. In a swift movement, muscles rippling, he lifts you off him and turns you over so he has you sitting on your now impossibly scrunched comforter.

He finds home back between your legs as you reach over into the drawer at your bedside and fumble around for a few seconds. He hears a little clatter and a rustling and when your hand resurfaces, you’ve pulled free a small foil square. You don’t even give him a chance to lean forward and take it; you’re ripping it open and looking up at him with the biggest doe-eyed stare he thinks he’s ever seen. He nods at the silent question, a grunt tumbling free as you roll the condom down his length. This is the most pathetic little bit of contact and he’s fighting demons.

“Okay?” he asks, shuffling back a little and giving you space to lie down flat on your back. You nod up at him, already wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Mhm, just-... take it slow?” you ask him, anticipation rendering you already a little breathless. “S’been a while.” 

A grin blooms all the way from his lips to his eyes and he leans down to kiss you again, positioning his tip at your hole and pressing forward just enough to tease.

Your thighs tighten around his hips and he pushes himself further inside you with a stuttered groan, agonisingly slowly, inch by inch. He stills every few seconds, both to give you the time to adjust and so that he can take a steadying few breaths and not collapse at how good you feel wrapped around him; he stops pressing his hips forward before he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy and you let a whine slip, the stretch slowly easing. 

“You can move,” you tell him, laying a kiss to his chest. “I’m okay.” 

Jihoon gives a soft laugh. Oh, he wishes this was just to be polite, but no. He’s in real danger of losing control any second. “Yeah, this isn’t for you, baby.”

“Oh?” you ask. You clamp around him and he gasps at the tightness, hips jerking forward until he’s buried up to the hilt. Fuck, there’s a bruised cervix if you’ve ever had one; a high-pitched whine erupts out of your lips and he ducks his head down to your ear.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You just-... fuck, you feel so good.”

“Mm, says you.” 

It’s another moment before he thrusts with intent, though. But when he does? When he pulls out halfway before sliding all the way back inside you, losing and regaining the feeling of your heat enveloping him entirely, hearing your gasps against his collarbone? The invisible reigns holding him back unravel and he settles into a slow but intensely deep rhythm, guiding your legs around his waist. You hook your ankles behind his back and somehow, you suck him in deeper still, your bodies touching everywhere they possibly can, so impossibly close.

The arm not holding his weight slides beneath your hips and raises them just a little. Now, at this angle, every time he rolls into you he grazes against your sweet-spot and you’re reduced to an incoherent mess within a few minutes. Good, he thinks, because he’s not doing much better, himself.

You hug him tighter after one particularly well-angled thrust, sinking your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder. He hisses at the sting, and your lips part as if you’re about to apologise but he doesn’t give you the chance to; he bumps your nose with his own to ask you to lift your head slightly, before he bends down and kisses you hard.

“Do that again,” he gasps, almost all of his weight against you as the hand not around your hips comes up to rest on your cheek. When your brows tighten, he swipes his thumb over your spit-covered, swollen lips. “Please. ”

So, you do.

Maybe not as harshly as the first time, but your teeth find his collarbone and you suck a bruise into his skin, drawing from him the highest pitched sound you think he could possibly make. He squares his jaw, ducking his head back down, biting on his bottom lip before he has no choice but to speak.

“I’m close, y/n,” he confesses, fucking into you slower, trying to stave it off for a few more seconds, his hips stuttering. “Can-... can you give me one more…?”

You nod, the knot in your stomach already growing tighter and tighter with every movement he makes, and when one of your hands unwinds from around his back to slide between your sweat-slicked bodies, he moves slightly away, letting you reach down.

It’s the sight of two of your fingers finding your clit and rubbing your favourite movements out on yourself that takes him past the point of no return, his cock sliding in and out of you messily, desperately, chasing the high that he’s right on the brink of. He kisses and nips just below your ear, breathy groans tickling your neck, and your high-pitched whine tells him you’ve hit your orgasm just as he starts to spill his into the condom, gushing around him, your walls fluttering and milking him for all he’s worth. 

—

You offer for him to shower first – an offer he gratefully accepts. While you’re taking your turn afterwards, Jihoon hunts down a fresh duvet cover in your room; he changes it, grabs you a glass of water for when you’re done, and sits on the edge of his bed with just the towel wrapped around his waist, scrolling through his phone. He looks up with a bright grin as the door opens and you emerge through it in your pyjamas, glowing from the light behind you, stray droplets of water clinging to your arms. 

You pause gently rubbing your hair dry with the towel, eyes brightening when you see him. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, and he pushes a hand through his own still damp hair with a laugh.

“It was the least I could do,” he counters. You raise your eyebrows at him, crossing the room to sit opposite him. He drops his phone down onto the mattress. “I couldn’t leave and make you change them yourself.”

“Leave?” you ask, picking up one of his hands and playing idly with his fingers. 

“I mean, it’s getting pretty late, so…” he says. “I probably need to get going at some point.”

“Or…” you say, tongue darting out over your lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

Jihoon looks down at your hands, then back up at you. Are you suggesting what he thinks you are, or has he still not quite come back to himself from earlier? It’s hard to say if the look on your face is hope, or something else.

“Are you… asking me to stay?” he asks. 

“Only if you want to,” you tell him. He lifts your hands up, pressing a kiss to one of your knuckles, then using it to tug you closer to him until he can plant one on your own lips. “I’ve probably got an old t-shirt you could sleep in.”

“Of course I want to.”

So you slip away from him to go rummaging through your drawers, trying to find the promised article of clothing. The whole time, he’s awestruck. Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

——————

He wakes up next to you for the first time on a Saturday morning. His sleep-fogged brain registers lying on an unfamiliar mattress, tucked beneath new bedsheets, eyes fluttering open to take in a room he doesn’t quite recognise at first. Part of him wonders if he’s still dreaming. When he rolls over onto his side, and his eyes land on the curve of your shoulders, the fall of your hair down your back, he has to ask himself the same thing again. 

All of last night must’ve been a dream, he muses, smiling shyly to himself and watching your frame rise and fall with every slow breath you take. There’s no way you really told him you liked him, too. There’s no way any of it could have really happened.

“Y/n?” He asks in the gentlest of whispers, only wanting to stir you if you’re awake already. When there’s no response, he moves a tiny bit closer to you, hesitating before he slips his arm around your waist and settles with his chest pressed against your back. A wildly insecure part of his brain tries to argue that just because you wanted what happened last night, that doesn’t mean you want all of this now. Maybe you only wanted to sleep with him, or maybe you’ll have changed your mind somehow now the sun’s come up. He considers moving away again, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling until you wake up and he can have a real conversation about where both of your heads are at with everything, but he barely gets a chance.

Those thoughts are silenced almost immediately, his brain falling quiet the second you roll over in his arms. You bury your head in the valley between his pectorals, tucked away from the world beneath his chin. His arms tighten around your sleep-warmed body.

“What time is it?” You ask. He contains a shiver at the softness of your voice, bliss running the length of his spine. Jihoon thinks that he could get used to this.

“I don’t know. Early, I think,” he murmurs, and you whine softly, burrowing deeper against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

“Not if you’re awake,” you say. He’s not entirely convinced you can stick to that promise, though, with the way you yawn and he feels your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he tells you, the tips of his fingers ticking against your side. He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your hair. A soft hum rumbles in your throat and he can’t hold back the smile that spreads over his lips. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

True enough, you fall back asleep curled up against him and Jihoon, to the sounds of your slowing breaths, drifts off too. A few hours later, at a far more reasonable time, you wake him up with a press of your lips to the tip of his nose.

Innocent, exploratory kisses grow heated in the warmth of the sun that streams through your blinds. Hands start to travel, sleep clothes get discarded, and you have him lying on his back, pressing kisses down his chiselled stomach when his phone starts to vibrate on the floor next to the bed.

He groans at the distraction, again as you shuffle up to sit on your knees and look at him expectantly. 

“Are you gonna answer that?” you ask, the tips of your fingers grazing his thighs. He shakes his head, no. “Come on, Jihoon. It might be important.”

“Not important enough,” he sighs. 

“At least see who it is,” you laugh. Despite a huffed protest, he props himself up on one elbow, leaning over the side of the bed and glancing down at his phone screen.

Seungcheol.

The arrangement to go for a run this morning comes rushing back to Jihoon, who slaps a hand to his forehead and reaches down to grab his phone off the floor, looking at you apologetically.

“Give me two seconds,” he says, and you grin wickedly up at him, ducking low to press a kiss to one of the lines that disappears down into his boxers. 

“Take all the time you need.”

He answers the call frowning, flopping his head back against the pillows. 

“Hey, look – I’m really sorry,” he starts to say, but Seungcheol’s voice cuts him off almost straight away.

“Jihoon, where the hell are you? I got to your apartment and your car wasn’t here, and Seokmin said he didn’t hear you come home last night. We all thought you’d died,” he hurries. Jihoon can picture the expression on the other man’s face perfectly, which is pretty unfortunate seeing as how you’ve moved to start palming his hardening cock through his briefs.

“I stayed out,” Jihoon says, a little wobbly. “I can’t make the run, someth-... shit.” You press an open-mouthed kiss to the outline of his length, the heat of your breath through the fabric sending him into overdrive. “Something came up-...”

The line goes silent for a second, and his breath stutters as you do the same thing again. Each press of your lips is euphoric agony, and he’s really not hiding this as well as he wishes he could. One look down at you tells him that you’re very proud of that.

“Dude,” Seungcheol gasps, snickering suddenly. “Tell me you’re not with a girl right now.”

“Shut up. Go away,” Jihoon grunts. “I’ll call you later.”

“Oh my God, is it gym girl? Did you finally-...”

“Bye, Cheol,” he hurries, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He drops his phone onto the mattress, fake-glaring down at you and shaking his head. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you ask, pulling at the waistband of his briefs to tug them down his legs. “Let me make it up to you, huh?”

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago. 

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time. 

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap. 

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. 

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply. 

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices. 

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate. 

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back. 

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment. 

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all. 

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you. 

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference. 

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best. 

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes. 

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them. 

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you.  You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now. 

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things. 

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

all banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings for this chapter: none

Word Count: 2702 words

a/n: hello!! so I was able to edit a lot today. :') I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by Sunday! Let me know what you think about this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts on this one! Happy reading! <3

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

Chapter 4

You felt off all day.

It was something you couldn’t explain. Out of nowhere that morning, you woke up with a slight headache and a sudden uneasy feeling that refused to go away until late in the afternoon. It was Friday, and you decided to close early due to your bizarre state. You planned a night-in with some warm tea, hearty soup and a marathon of a new series you started. 

Currently, while finishing up cleaning the tables and organising the chairs, you paid no attention to anything and swayed mindlessly to the soft music in your headphones with the fresh scent of lavender filling the room which you were using to wipe the tables down. Your friends had already left for the evening and the skyline of Seoul provided a composed and serene atmosphere, one which you were very grateful for at this time. 

You pondered the cause for your sudden headache and a spike in anxiety. Werewolves rarely got sick, the main reason may be because of exhaustion, but as far as you could recall, you weren’t over-exerting or pushing yourself too hard. While the beginning of your journey was far from effortless, you paced yourself when it came to facing challenges. Because you knew if you overworked yourself, especially since you were still recovering at the time, Jisung wouldn’t hesitate to tell Chan and Minho. You could handle Chan but you were afraid of an angry Minho. 

As you continued to lose yourself in your thoughts and music, you didn't hear the bell of your cafe ring. However, you felt your emotions suddenly shift and there was a rapid electric rush through your body. Following it was a pull you knew all too well.

It couldn’t be?

You spun around and halted at the figure in front of you. He was still slightly dripping wet, his hair damp and his clothes stuck to him but his face glowed beautifully. His eyes sparkled and he panted with a slight smile beginning to form as he looked at you in awe and admiration. 

Song Mingi, your soulmate, and one of the loves of your life stood in front of you in the flesh. It had been six months since you last saw him and the last time you saw him was during the worst times of your life, one that took a lot of therapy to start unpacking. Luckily, Chan knew someone who helped you immensely in deconstructing all the walls you had built. 

You thought a lot about this moment, coming face to face with one of your soulmates and unravelling all the feelings and emotions that had been buried inside you for so long. There were times when you wracked your brain with so many different scenarios, playing out what you would say, how you would act and your responses when they responded. You hoped to prepare yourself for the imminent confrontation but truthfully, you were far from well-prepared.

As Mingi approached you cautiously, you were stumped. So many questions began to flood your mind. What are you supposed to do? Should you be aloof and standoffish? Should you start yelling? Should you run away, let Chan handle it and never look back? 

The main question you had was, did you harbour any hate towards Mingi? Hate was a very strong word and you couldn’t begin to fathom hating one of your mates. Yes, you were hurt, angry and disappointed in them but part of you didn’t want to throw in the towel just yet. If there was any possibility for reconciliation, you were willing to try, albeit you wouldn’t go easy on them.

Something you learnt in therapy was that relationships are a work in progress. It’ll never be perfect like you were told growing up and it didn’t necessarily have to be set in stone with you not having a choice about it. You did in fact have a choice, and while you still believed fate had a role in bringing people together, a real relationship requires showing up, learning from mistakes, taking accountability and trying again if both parties truly care for each other. If not, you knew you had to face the harsh reality of walking away even if it broke you.

You wanted to make it work with your soulmates, and Mingi was the one out of your eight mates who you were closest to after Hongjoong. He was the second one you had bonded with and spent a lot of time together before meeting everyone else. You would describe him as your tall alpha with a soft heart and sweet personality. He wore his heart on his sleeve, he’s a tenderheart and big softie who would seek you out to share his snacks with because he didn't like to eat alone. He struggled with his self-esteem because being the middle child had him being forgotten a lot. You were there along with the boys to give him comfort and show him his worth. Song Mingi is the tenderest, sweetest and softest person out of the entire pack. 

"Mingi..." you murmured.

"Y-Y/N..." his voice broke out in a raspy tone.

The moment he spoke snapped you out of your daze. You just wanted to hug him, embrace him and feel his warmth again. As your finger grazed his hand, he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head repeatedly. 

"It's you! It's really you!" He cried.

That’s all it took for you to break your facade and you broke down in his embrace, sniffles and sobs racking your body. Mingi just pulled you closer.

"Don't cry, don't cry angel. I know I have a lot to apologise for. I-I can't even b-begin to explain it. There are no e-excuses for my actions. I'll make it up to y-you. No matter what, I won't ever hurt you like that again."

You felt the sincerity in his words. You knew he was being sincerely honest. You weren't ready to forgive him - you both still had to have a proper conversation about everything. But for now, you wanted to have this moment with him, after so long you finally had your Mingi again. 

It took a while to peel Mingi off you because he kept refusing. He was taller than you and much stronger so it took a lot of convincing that you weren’t going to vanish into thin air once he let you go. He wouldn't even sit if you didn't. When you placed him in a chair and moved away to give him a blanket, some tea and maybe a change of clothes, he bolted upright and grabbed your hand, holding onto it for dear life. 

Your apartment was right above the café. You had a few oversized jerseys in your closet as you were currently experimenting with your style that could fit him but it seemed to be futile on retrieving anything.

Mingi refused to part with you so instead he followed you foot to foot behind the counter as you pulled out one of the blankets from under the counter that you had for safekeeping for the colder days. He stood close by as you made him some tea.

Suddenly, your phone went off signalling a message. Mingi was confused by the sound and intrigued by the device you pulled out of your pocket. As you quickly checked to see who it was, Mingi quickly snatched it from you to see what it was.

"Hey—Mingi!" 

Your shouts went unanswered as Mingi stared at the screen. He was confused by the interface. Who is Jisung? Somehow he exited out of that app and managed to click on Instagram. Your profile was the first page when he opened the app and his brows pinched in even more confusion.

"Is that you?" he asked

You tried to get your phone back so you could explain things to him but Mingi is taller than you.

He pressed on the picture with you and Chan. It was a harmless picture that was taken during Chan’s birthday party with the two of you posing with big smiles as you both leaned against the kitchen counter watching Seungmin and Hyunjin fight over something. Your caption was simple: Happy birthday to my best friend. However, Mingi’s instincts kicked in seeing the two of you standing in close proximity. He felt a low growl wanting to erupt from his throat, his protective senses coming in. But he noticed your smile. You hadn't smiled like that in a long time. It was only with them and the last time was probably when…he couldn’t remember the last time.

You were able to grab back your phone after accidentally stepping on his foot. 

“Ow!” he cried.

“Finally.” you sighed.

"Who is that?" You could hear the pain that was evident in his voice. Even if you did want to be cold towards him, you didn’t have the heart to. It was difficult to remain aloof.

"He's my friend," you answered, "His name is Chan and he was the one who found me in the lake and brought me back with him."

"The lake? You came through the lake?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I don’t know how, all I remember is jumping in and then everything went dark. Then next thing I knew I was here.”

“That's why we couldn't find you. You were in this realm all the time?"

You hummed and nodded.

"Yeah, I…I didn't want to come home…” you stuttered, “I-I couldn't..." you trailed off.

Truth be told, you weren’t 100% certain what to expect from Mingi. There was so much heaviness weighing on your shoulders and in the air, that you couldn’t read what was going through Mingi’s mind or predict his next move.

Was he going to snap at you, ridicule you or berate you?

Mingi felt your uncertainty as the spark of your bond started to drop and he brought you into an immediate hug. 

"I can't blame you,” he started, “We left you with a lot of broken promises, we didn't take care of you like we are supposed to. It hurts to hear that you didn’t want to come back to us but…you were also hurting a lot more than we were."

You didn’t realise the tears cascading down your face. For so long, you just wanted to be heard, understood and comforted. 

"Mingi, we have to talk about all that…”

“Let’s talk now then. At least cover some bases?”

You agreed and brought the tea to a table in the far corner away from the window. You sat opposite Mingi with great effort as he was still uneasy not being able to feel your touch, you saw the way he never took his eyes off you. 

You cleared your throat holding the teacup securely in your hand.

“First of all, I’m really, really, really, really sorry for not realising sooner the damage we were doing to you. I know an apology isn’t even enough. The fact that it had to take you being separated from us, for us to recognise the severity is inexcusable.” he began.

You listened intently, anxious at what he had to say.

“When I discovered how damaged our bond became, it felt like an entire collapse of my world. I don’t even know how to explain it, it was as if the one thing that kept me going was stripped away and I was operating on autopilot with no clear way ahead,” he paused, “My birthday wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a celebration, there was more grief than anything. I always told you how much you meant to me and you going missing showed me just how important you are to me Y/N. You’re my entire world and I can’t bear the thought of living without you. I hate it and I don’t want to live like that. I should have noticed my treatment towards you, I should have told the boys, I should have supported you and been there for you. I’m so sorry for failing you.”

“Mingi…”

“Hit me, yell at me, tell me as it is. Don’t hold back Y/N but please…don’t give up on me. Please give me a chance to make it up to you.” 

“I…I appreciate your honesty Mingi. You seem to be sincere. I thought I would never be understood. It felt like I was drowning in a sea of my feelings. Everyday I prayed one of you would wrap your arms around me and end the nightmare I was living in. All my life…I was taught how to be a perfect mate and to consider your mate as your whole world, but when your mate forgets you, your world falls apart and you’re left stranded in a dark void with no real direction to follow. When I was running from those rogues, it came to my mind that you all were on the other side of town with Lila…”

Mingi grimaced at that realisation. You were in danger and they were so far away from you. He held your hands that were still wrapped around the teacup, rubbing soothing circles to comfort and help you gather your thoughts.

“I always thought it was my fault,” you cried, “I wanted to call out for you through the bond but I couldn’t even focus. I felt like a failure, I thought I failed at being a Luna, and so many questions plagued my mind every day and night. What does Lila have that I don’t? Why am I always a second choice? Why does Mrs Kim hate me? What’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke as you spoke. Mingi wanted to kick himself for doing this to you. He finally saw the way you had been broken. You questioned your self worth, they made you question your worthiness. You didn’t know how you were so important, you were a precious gem to him, you were priceless. 

“Nothing’s wrong you angel, if anything, something is clearly wrong with the rest of us because we’re plain idiots for making you think you’re unworthy. You deserved to be loved, adored and respected.” he answered.

“It hurts Mingi. All I ever wanted was to be someone's favourite person growing up. I wanted to be the one, you could come to for anything. I wanted to help in any way I could. I just wanted to be loved.”

“And you are loved, my love. I love you so deeply and truly, I really do. I will never let you feel that way again. As long as I live, you’d be showered unconditionally with love and respect.”

You closed your eyes and regulated your breathing to compose yourself. 

“I’m willing to work things out Mingi. But you should know, I’m not sure if I trust you right now. So many thoughts come in, what if it happens again? What if -”

“It won’t. It will never happen again, angel. I know that seems like an empty promise. But it isn't! I promise you, I will make you trust me again.” 

You looked at Mingi with some uncertainty. You never considered love would be like this, you always thought it would be easy. You didn’t know what was going to happen next but at least for now, this was a start.

“Tiny steps. Let’s take tiny steps then. I’ll introduce you to Chan tomorrow, he’ll help you get in contact with the others. Let them know you’re safe.”

Even after all the hurt they gave you, Mingi was in awe at the way you cared so deeply for them.

“Let’s head upstairs,” you said tiredly.

As you both made your way to the apartment, Mingi thought about everything. It pained him deeply to know the hurt they caused you. He made a silent promise to himself that he’ll be better for you. 

That night, he couldn’t sleep. You’re the best thing that ever happened to him and you deserve unconditional and unwavering love. In no way, shape or form were you ever a second choice. You could never be second - you were and will always be first. 

He’ll make things right again. He promised.

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

Tag list: @eastleighsblog , @sehun096rainbow

[andvys]

We'll burn the sky E.M.

Warnings: mentions of heartbreak, mostly fluff, reader and eddie get high together

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader

Summary: You and Eddie grow closer and have one- or a few moments.

Chapter two

Series masterlist

-

The shrill sound of a telephone ringing wakes Eddie from his deep sleep, groaning in annoyance, he opens his eyes only to screw them shut when the sunlight hits him directly in his face. Reaching for one of the pillows on his bed, he slams it on his face, “shut up,” he mumbles as the phone keeps ringing. 

He hopes that one of the guys will pick it up but it keeps ringing and ringing. 

“Gareth!” Eddie yells out to his friends, knowing that he is probably awake already, “pick it up!” 

Eddie rolls his eyes when he gets no response, the house is silent aside from the obnoxious ringing. 

And then, it finally stops and Eddie sighs in relief. Relaxing into the comfort of his warm bed again. But his peace is disturbed a minute later when the phone begins to ring again. 

He groans, throwing the pillow and the blanket off of him, he jumps up, his bare feet hitting the wooden floors as he rushes out of his room, walking past Gareth’s room, he catches a glimpse of the empty bed, he is no doubt relaxing on the patio, totally ignoring the phone. Asshole. 

Running down the stairs, he rubs his tired eyes, leaning against the wall as he comes to a halt, he reaches for the phone, closing his eyes. 

“Hello?” he mumbles, grumpily. 

“Hi… did I wake you up?” 

Eddie opens his eyes, a smile appears on his face and he suddenly feels wide awake, “no no– you’re fine. How are you doing, y/n?” 

“Good, I’m doing good,” you giggle at the sudden change in his voice, “how are you doing, Eddie?” 

He grins, leaning his head against the wall, he closes his eyes again, “better now that you called.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes.” 

Your breathy laugh makes his chest feel all warm. 

“So uh– how about we write some songs today?”

“I’d love that.” 

“Cool, you could come over to my place, if you want?” 

“That would be nice.”

He walks into the kitchen with a large smile after hanging up the phone. He looks down at the notebook where he wrote down your address. 

“What’s got you all smiley and shit?” 

Eddie shuts the book and throws it on the kitchen counter, locking eyes with Gareth who just took his headphones off. 

“Dude, the phone kept ringing!” Eddie complains as though it wasn’t just the best call he had in a while. 

“Oh,” Gareth mumbles, giving him an apologetic look, he points to his headphones, “sorry– who called?” 

Eddie says your name as he pours himself a cup of coffee. 

A knowing look flashes in Gareth’s eyes, he leans against the counter and smirks at his friend, “oh, that’s why you’re so happy at 9 am in the morning.” 

It’s been a week since they started practicing with you. You came by on Sunday and after that, you came by every day after work to practice with them and work on the songtexts with Eddie. Gareth and the others– especially Eddie are happy about you joining the band. Not only do you help them improve, you also make the band even better, just by being there.

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m not happy.” 

“Right,” Gareth chuckles, “so uh– what did she want?” 

Running a hand through his messy curls, Eddie turns around to look at his friend, taking a sip of his coffee, he stares at him through his bangs, “gonna work on some of the song texts today.” 

“Oh, cool,” he says, “is she coming over?” 

Eddie shakes his head, “no, I uh, I’m going over to her place.” 

His best friend’s eyes widen and he nods, “ah, you are going over to her place, huh?” 

“Dude.” 

Gareth snorts and turns away from Eddie, walking towards the fridge, he takes out the milk and places it on the counter before he grabs himself a bowl and his favorite cereal, ignoring the way Eddie looks at him. 

“You know, I think she’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie nods, “she is.” 

“Very talented,” Gareth says as he pours the honey nut cheerios into the green bowl. 

“Very,” Eddie says. 

“I love her voice,” he smiles, reaching for the milk. 

“I love her voice too.” 

Gareth smirks to himself, “bet she’s gonna rock the stage.” 

“She will.” 

“She’s very hot too.” 

“Yea–” Eddie clears his throat, turning away and pretending like he said nothing. 

Gareth only chuckles to himself as he begins to eat his cereal. 

Eddie closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighs in annoyance. 

‘I have a girlfriend,’ he thinks to himself, repeating it over and over again in his head. 

“You talked to Sam yet?” Gareth asks, “about her joining the band?” 

“Yes,” Eddie mumbles, “I gave him the recordings, he loved them– loved her voice.” 

“Cool.” 

“Yeah, cool.” 

-

Eddie can’t explain why but whenever he is about to see you, he feels this weird tension in his body, he is giddy, excited and nervous but the moment your eyes lock, he feels calmness washing over him, the tension in his body leaves as quickly as it comes. 

Right now, he is standing in front of your door, taking deep breaths. He hasn’t been alone with you yet– well, he has been alone with you at his house but the guys were still around. This is a little different. 

He knocks three times and takes a step back, licking his lips, he brushes his fingers through his curls– he doesn’t even know why he feels the need to impress you but he always makes sure that his hair looks good and that he wears his best shirt, the good pants. God, he feels ridiculous sometimes but whenever he is around you, he feels as though he is in the presence of an already famous rockstar, naturally he has to impress you. 

The door opens and you greet him with one of those breathtaking smiles of yours, the kind that is contagious. Your eyes are glowing with happiness. 

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Eddie grins at you. 

You step aside, stretching your arm out, “well come on in then, rockstar.” 

He chuckles, smiling down at you as he enters your home, looking around in curiosity. As though he can feel them, he turns around and his eyes fall on the guitars hung up on your wall. 

“Oh wow,” he whispers as he walks towards them. 

You close the door and follow him into your living room, his eyes light up when they fall on the black electric guitar, he stretches his hand out, fingers tracing the smooth wood, “she is beautiful,” he whispers, staring at it as though he is in trance. 

You laugh, “he is,” you joke. 

He looks down at you, smirking, “you play with him sometimes?” 

You raise your brows, lips twitching, “of course,” you say with a low voice, “especially at nights, gotta stroke him a little, show him some love, you know?” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks growing red. 

You burst into laughter, shaking your head, “that’s so dumb,” you giggle as you turn around and walk to your kitchen, “you want a drink?” you ask, “coke, water, beer.. or some coffee?”

Eddie blinks as he watches you walk off, eyes traveling to your– nope. Eddie forces himself to look away, “y-yeah, a coke would be nice.”

He turns away from the guitars and looks at the pictures on your wall. There is one of you at the recording studio– you smile at someone behind the camera, guitar in your lap. Eddie smiles. There’s a picture of you and a group of girls, he recognizes them from the night at the bar. There’s one of a man with a little girl on his lap– he assumes it’s your dad, he recognized the girl right away, it’s you. Cute. 

He turns away and looks at the little table in front of your couch, raising his brows at the unfinished joint in your little ashtray, “you’re a stoner, y/n?” he smirks. 

Walking out of your kitchen with two drinks in your hand, you chuckle when you find him pointing to the joint on your table. 

“No, just need something to relax sometimes, you know?” 

He nods, “I get that,” he says, “you know.. I actually used to sell drugs, back home.” That’s how I got to know my girlfriend– he should have added but he can’t bring himself to do it, he doesn’t know why. 

A surprised look flashes in your eyes, “really?” you ask as you hand him his coke. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “but then I got a job at the garage and my drug dealer career was over.” 

Laughing, you shake your head, “and now you’re on the way to becoming a rockstar.” 

“Yup,” he smirks as he raises the cup to his lips, drinking the cold sweet beverage. 

You stare at him with a smile on your face. 

“Shit, I love coke.”

“Me too,” you mumble, still staring into his eyes, getting lost in them.

He furrows his brows, looking down at the water bottle in your hand, “I hope we’re talking about the same kind of coke,” he laughs nervously as he stares into that lost look in your eyes. 

Your eyes widen and a laugh leaves your lips, scratching the back of your neck, you shake your head, “we do,” you snort. 

Sitting down on your couch and reaching for your notebook, “let’s get to work, shall we?” 

He nods, sitting down next to you, he places the drink on the table. 

“I made some changes. I stayed up last night. Was hit with this sudden inspiration,” you chuckle as you scoot closer to him, pointing to the new lines you wrote down but Eddie isn’t looking at them yet, no, he is looking at you. 

“So uh– how about we change this line ‘crying for you’ to ‘bleeding for you’? I think it works well with the rest of the lines, or we could add it.”

Eddie smiles, you still stare down at your notebook, furrowing your brows. 

“Hold on,” you mumble, putting it back down, you get up to get the guitar in your bedroom. 

Eddie’s gaze follows you until you disappear in the hallway. He looks down at your notebook, curiosity gets the best of him. He flips the pages, reading the lines of the song he wrote down, he flips to another page and another until he finds a song he doesn’t recognize, ‘death to my heart’.

If it wasn’t the title that got his attention, it definitely would have been the first line. 

He doesn’t mean to pry but he can’t help but read the rest of the song text. What starts off with a smile on his face ends with a frown on his face. The look in his eyes can only be described as overwhelmed as he reads it. It’s good, perfect even but it is so sad. So beautiful yet heartbroken. 

It’s about the pain of love and loss, the feeling of unrequited love. The feeling of loving someone so much that it crushes your heart and destroys your soul. It’s about a soulmate; how it feels to love the one, have a piece of their heart only to lose them because the time wasn’t right. 

“Hey– oh.” 

Eddie tears his eyes away from the pages, looking up at you, his eyes grow wide, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to–”

“No….No, it’s okay,” you mumble as you sit down next to him again, “I actually wanted to play this song for you, see if you'd be interested to work on it."

“Really?” 

You nod, looking at him nervously, “but if you don’t like it–”

He puts his hand on your arm, gaze softening, “I love it, y/n. It’s beautiful.”

A smile tugs at your lips, “thank you, it’s my favorite one I’ve written.” 

“Would you like to play it for me?” 

You blink, breathing nervously as you look into his pretty eyes. 

“Okay.” 

So you end up playing the song to him, not noticing the look in his eyes. Eddie stares at you with a sense of longing in his eyes. It feels like something inside of him feels drawn to your voice, to you. Perhaps that’s why he gave you a chance in the first place. Eddie was never the type to beg for someone’s help but he did beg you and it wasn’t just your help that he wanted, he wanted you. 

His heart feels full, he feels at peace, the way he has longed to feel for so long. Your voice feels like a warm hug, like he can let himself fall into you, knowing that you’ll be there to catch him and hold him in the safety of your arms.

-

Weeks go by and a lot has happened. The guys ‘introduced’ you to Sam but to their surprise you already knew him, confusion was written all over their faces when the older man embraced you in his arms and called you ‘bug’. 

“You know each other?” Eddie asked with a confused smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, “worked with her dad.” 

“Kid got just as much talent as he did.” 

Given that he talked about your dad in past tense, Eddie figured that your dad isn’t around anymore. He never asked you about it, not wanting to pry but he can’t help but want to know more about him about who he is or was and while you were growing closer and closer, he still didn’t want to bring something up that might make you sad or uncomfortable– he could see the sad look in your eyes when Sam mentioned him. 

You rewrote almost every song, making the good ones even better. Eddie was even willing to replace some of his songs with the ones that you have written; he loves them. 

Now you have one song left to rewrite and you are struggling, you both are. 

Laying on the carpet in his bedroom, you read the song text again, trying to fix the lines with better words but your mind is blank. 

You hear the guys playing in the garage, the late afternoon sun peaks through the curtains, the warmth kissing your skin. 

Eddie groans, throwing his pen along with his notebook down on the ground, he runs his hand down his face, feeling frustrated, “you got anything?” he asks you. 

“No…” you mumble, still keeping your eyes on the words on the pages. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and nods as he looks down at you. His breath hitches in his throat. You look beautiful. Hair sprawled around you, your top has ridden up a little, exposing your soft skin, your short jean shorts show off your pretty legs, the sunlight meets your face so perfectly– fuck. 

Eddie can’t deny how absolutely gorgeous you are or how it feels to be with you but the moment he allows all these thoughts and feelings in, he gets consumed by guilt. He can’t feel this way about you, he can’t have all these thoughts about you. 

After all, there’s someone waiting for him back home. 

“I think we have to get out.”

You sit up, furrowing your brows, “you okay?” you ask when you see the conflicted look in his eyes as he stares at you, “Eddie?” 

He blinks, snapping out of his thoughts, he tries to give you a smile, “y-yes.” 

“Are you sure?” you frown. 

“Yeah,” he whispers as he stares at the slight pout on your face, the worried look in your eyes. Damn you, why do you have to be so adorable? “What did you say right now?” 

“Uh, I said that we should get out. We’ve been cooped up in here for weeks now, we gotta take a small break– just for tonight, it’ll help get some ideas and inspiration back.” 

“You think so?”

“I know so,” you smirk, “and I already know where we’re going.” 

You get up and walk towards him, reaching for his hand, you grab it,  “come on.” 

Eddie shakes his head, smiling as he gets up. His heart flutters in his chest as your thumb brushes against his skin. 

“Where are we going?” 

“We’re gonna sing.” 

He raises his brows, “the garage is your way of getting out?” 

“No,” you chuckle, “we’re going to the bar you kept annoying me in.”

Eddie tilts his head, squinting his eyes, “oh, I was annoying?” 

“Very,” you smirk as you lean closer to him, eying the guitar pick necklace around his neck, “kept pestering me.” 

He smirks, looking down at your lips for a brief second, “and now you’re here, guess I wasn’t too annoying after all, huh?” 

You shrug, “who says that I’m here for you?” 

His face falls and he looks confused causing you to giggle. 

“I’m here to make music not to hang out with you, Eddie.” 

“Ouch, you keep being cold towards me,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he pretends to wipe his tears away, “so we’re not friends then?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know, are we?” you smile as you look up at him, “I thought that we are just band mates.” 

“Band mates who spend a lot of time together,” he points out. 

“Isn’t that what band mates do?” you giggle as you leave his room. 

Well, Eddie certainly never laid on Gareth’s carpet before to write songs with him. Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. Taking one last look into the mirror before he follows you out. 

He walks down the stairs, finding you in the hallway. You stand in front of the mirror, brushing through your hair before you take your purse, fumbling through the small bag until you find what you were looking for, bending forward to get a closer look at yourself, you reapply your lipstick with a concentrated look on your face. 

Eddie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you. 

You see his reflection through the mirror, “you want some?” you chuckle, holding up the red lipstick.

His stomach flutters as you walk towards him, he stares down at your lips– your very kissable lips. 

“S-Should we go?” he asks, unable to look away. 

You smirk to yourself, putting the lipstick back in your purse, you nod, “let’s go.” 

-

After a few drinks, Eddie feels like he can finally relax a little. Weeks of band practice and writing took a toll on him, he rarely ever took breaks but it was time for one, just for tonight at least and he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t dying for a chance to get to know more about you– outside of the music.

“Tell me about Steve.” 

Eddie chuckles, “what about him?” 

Ever since he told you about his best friend Steve, you kept bringing him up as though you already knew him personally. 

“Tell me about him, what is he like?” you ask, “what does he look like? Is he hot?” 

He shakes his head, snorting, “well, considering that he used to be the most popular guy at school, I’d say he’s pretty hot.”

Your eyes light up and you giggle, “I knew it.” 

He rolls his eyes, “how?” he mumbles. 

You shrug, “I just do. Tell me more.”

Eddie clears his throat, “Everybody loves Steve, kids love him, chicks love him– shit, even my uncle loves him. I mean, I get it, he’s cool. I-I didn’t always think that though, I didn’t like him at first, I thought he was an asshole just like every other jock but it turned out that he’s a pretty cool guy. Dustin– our friend, kept telling me so but I didn’t believe him and then he just started to bring him around Hellfire and forced us to hang out.”

“Hellfire?” you ask, remembering the little drawing on his notebook. 

Eddie nods, “yeah, we had this club– you know DnD?” 

“Yeah, my cousin is like obsessed with it, forced me to play with him whenever I’d babysit him.”

His face lights up and he smiles, “oh, you’re a little nerd too, huh?” 

“Not really,” you laugh. 

“Yes you are,” he smirks, leaning closer to you. 

You get a whiff of his cologne, mixed with the smell of cigarettes and whiskey– something about his scent makes you feel dizzy. 

Eddie tells you more about his life back in Hawkins– his old life. He tells you about his uncle Wayne, about how he took him in and treated him like his own. He tells you about his friends about how supportive they’ve all been when he told him about his plans to move out to LA to pursue the career he always dreamed about. 

His eyes glint with happiness but also with sadness, he misses them, his family, his friends.

He tells you everything– well, almost everything. He leaves a small detail out. 

You tell him about your friends and about the way you used to work with Sam but that’s it, you don’t talk about your dad, you don’t even mention him and it only sparks his curiosity even more.

“Okay, enough with the talking, let’s sing!” You get up, taking one last sip of your drink before you grab his hand, “the stage is free just for us,” you grin. 

Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his whiskey, he gets up, “what are we gonna sing?” he asks, letting you pull him along to the stage. 

He looks around, the bar is definitely less crowded than it was that night you sang but there is still a good crowd. 

You look back at him with a smirk and by the look in your eyes, he knows exactly what you want. Every time he hears your car pulling up, he hears the same song playing– he is pretty sure that you do it on purpose at this point. 

“No…” he groans. 

“Yes!” you exclaim with an excited look in your eyes, you turn your back to him as you walk towards the DJ.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he hears your song choice. Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, he chuckles a little. He’s glad that the guys didn’t end up joining you here tonight, he would have been embarrassed to sing a Fleetwood Mac song in front of them. 

You turn back to him, with one microphone in your hand, giving him an excited grin, “I always wanted to sing that song!” 

He can’t help but smile when he sees how excited you are, “what do you need me for then?” 

You frown at him as you grab his arm and pull him further onto the stage, “Fleetwood Mac has two singers, dude!” 

“We’re not Fleetwood Mac tho!” 

“Tonight we are,” you giggle as you hand him the mic, “you sing the first verse.” 

“Why me?” he asks, throwing his arms up.

“Because I said so!” 

The DJ looks between the two of you, raising his brows, “you ready?” he asks. 

You give him a thumbs up and a grin. Eddie shakes his head. Yeah, he’d do anything you say.

“The things I do for you,” he mumbles under his breath as he grips the mic tighter in his hand. 

You giggle at the grumpy look on his face, the song starts and he keeps his eyes on you, not really caring about the audience. He brings the mic up to his lips, rolling his eyes at you one more time before he begins to sing. 

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

And if you don't love me now 

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain 

And if you don't love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying 

You would never break the chain 

Your smile is so big as you’re watching him, he can’t help but enjoy this moment. Stepping closer to you, he hands you the mic, ignoring the way his heart fluttered in his chest when your fingers brushed against his and you gave him a wink before you began to sing your verse. 

Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light

And if you don't love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain

Just like every time he hears you sing, it’s like he is in a trance and all he sees is you. All he feels is you, your happiness is just radiating off of you when you sing and it’s like he can feel every emotion that floods right through you. 

You look into each other’s eyes, nothing around you both exists when you do what you love, especially when you do it together. 

His brown eyes flicker with something unreadable, suddenly Eddie grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him, placing his hand above yours, he surprises you by singing the chorus with you. 

A weird feeling settles in your chest, you have never been this close to him. His nose almost bumps into yours, his curls brush against your cheek, his hand is still on the small of your back, his touch leaving goosebumps on your skin- no, it's more intense than that. His touch is burning into your skin, making you feel desire and need, all at once.

Neither of you notice that you attracted the audience, that the people are watching you with awestruck expressions on their faces.

You can’t see them because all you see is each other. 

If you had to describe this moment with one word, it would be; magical. 

Sparks fly when you sing together, there’s no denying that you feel something when you’re with him like this. 

You get lost in his eyes every single time. He lets you take a look into his mind, only you can’t read it but you can see the longing, the happiness, the passion and the guilt, you don’t understand what the guilt is for but it unsettles you a little.  

You embrace each other after the song, you don’t know who made the first move but you don’t care, not when you feel him pulling you closer. Touching you in such a gentle way, it leaves you breathless. His breath hits your neck, a shiver runs down your spine. His arms are wrapped around your waist, hands squeezing your hips. 

You close your eyes and so does he, both smiling in happiness. 

Eddie smells your sweet perfume, your shampoo that reminds him of his favorite milkshake; strawberry. He can feel your heart pounding as your chest is pressed against his. Your hands are on the nape of his neck, your lips linger against his shoulder. His heart skips a beat and he feels something he has never felt before, a sense of belonging and it catches him off guard, fills him with fear and the need to escape.

His eyes snap open and the smile falls from his face as the guilt settles deep within his heart. 

“I think the people love us,” you whisper into his ear before you pull away with a smirk on your face as you point to the people who are still cheering for you, “guess we should sing more Fleetwood Mac.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head, “you wish!” 

You end up leaving the bar after your little performance, Eddie suddenly grew quiet, disappearing in his thoughts. A lost and sad look appeared on his face after you sang the song together. 

“Hey,” you nudge his shoulder, “everything okay?” 

He nods, still looking at the ground as you wander through the streets, he presses his lips together. I have a girlfriend….. I have a girlfriend waiting for me at home… No. He doesn’t have to tell you, right? There’s nothing going on between you two so there’s no reason for him to tell you about her, right? 

“Yup.” 

Lies. You can see right through him but you don't push him to talk, you would never do that. You hate when others do that to you.

You nod, looking up into the darkening sky, the color reminds you of the ocean. 

“Hey, have you ever been to the beach?” 

Eddie looks at you with raised brows, “no.” 

You gasp as you halt in your tracks, “you have never– what?” 

Eddie laughs at the expression on your face, “I’ve been busy,” he shrugs. 

“Dude, you came to LA and you haven’t been to the beach? What is wrong with you?” 

He pushes your shoulder playfully, “stop insulting me!” 

“Never,” you smirk, pushing him back, “so… wanna go to the beach? We could share a joint and just relax, I know a good spot.” 

“Now?” 

“Yeah… why not?” 

"You carry drugs with you?"

"Always," you grin.

Eddie looks around, scratching the back of his neck. He doesn’t really feel like going home yet anyway, “okay, sure.” 

-

A secluded beach is not what Eddie had in mind but he loves it, it’s too dark to be able to see how pretty the beach truly is but the moonlight brightens it just enough, especially your beautiful face. 

The sand is already in his shoes and sticking to his clothes but he doesn’t mind, at least not right now when he is high and without a care in the world. You both stare at the crashing waves, enjoying the sound and the smell of the ocean. 

For the past 20 minutes, you sat there in comfortable silence, just passing the joint back and forth– both deep in thoughts. 

Once again, Eddie’s mind takes him back to your songs, to the picture on your wall, to the questions about your dad, to your life, to that one song and this time he finally lets one of the questions fall from his lips. 

“Have you ever been in love?” 

You turn to look at him to find him staring at you already, curiosity swimming in his eyes. 

“Why do you ask?” 

He shrugs, “just had to think of your song, 'death to my heart',” he explains, reaching for the joint you offer to him, he takes a long drag before he gives it back to you, “first time I read it, I thought that that can only be written by someone who was deeply in love and got their heart broken.” 

You chuckle, “I’ll take that as a compliment, that’s what I was hoping it sounds like,” you pause, getting lost in his eyes once again, “but no, I have never been in love before.” 

He stares at you in surprise, “seriously?” 

“Seriously.” 

“B-But you’ve had partners before, right?” 

You shake your head, “not serious ones.” 

His eyes widen, a frown settles on his face. Not serious ones. He knows what you mean by that and he doesn't like to think about you having not serious partners- it makes him feel jealous.

“But uh– I’ve never really dated anyone.” 

“Why not?” 

You sigh, placing your palms on the sand, you lean back, “cause I've never met anyone that I liked in a way that wasn't platonic."

He looks confused, waiting for you to continue.

“You know how you sometimes just meet someone and you just both get along so well, you share the same interests and the love for things that it ties you to each other?” 

He nods. 

“Well, sometimes we mistake those feelings for love, we can mistake platonic love for romantic love so easily, especially when we're lonely and we just want love and when the other person feels the same, we end up in a very messy situation because in the end people we like, adore, admire or love platonically are just people who were always supposed to be friends, just our friends. And that person is someone who was never supposed to be yours, you know?” you pause to take a deep breath, lips setting in a frown as you look into his eyes. "I mean, I'm not saying that you can't be in love with your friend because you can be -- but, uh-- I'm rambling, what I'm trying to say is, I don't want to date someone I just love or have to learn how to love, I want to be with someone that I'm genuinely in love with."

“You think just love isn't enough?” He asks with a frown on his face.

“I don't know. Just love isn't enough for me,” you shrug. "Because what if I settle for someone, build a life with them but then meet the person that I end up falling in love with?"

The look in his eyes is almost one of heartbreak. 

“I wouldn’t want to break my partners heart and I'd probably stay with them, but then I’d also be miserable for the rest of my life because I wouldn’t be with the one I truly want.” 

His heart feels heavy in his chest, his eyes show nothing but regret and a longing for something he will never have. 

"A-And what if you won't find that person?"

"I don't know," you shrug, "I don't have a problem with being alone, I can still see people, you know? But I just don't see the point of being with someone that I don't love in a way that I wish I would. But hey, maybe the love I'm talking about doesn't even exist," you laugh, blushing when you realize how much you just rambled. "And maybe I will actually befriend someone that I end up loving in that way."

He smiles at your words, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

"And the song? It's about two people who met at the wrong time?" He asks, curiosity flashing in his eyes.

"Soulmates," you correct him.

“And there’s no happy ending for them?” 

“No,” you whisper. 

“Why not?” 

You shrug, heart aching in your chest when you see the broken look in his eyes. 

“Because he chooses the wrong one.” 

“And what about her?” 

A breathy laughter falls from your lips when you think of how dramatic those words might sound.

“She dies of heartbreak.” 

“Oh..” 

-

Taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @cry-for-u @mysticmunson @tvserie-s-world @eddielives1986 @1paire2vans @poisonedluv @sherrylyn628 @aysheashea @kaitebugg03 @lma1986 @aftermidnightwriting @livelaughlove-mhm @miarosso @novelnovella @magenta-moon

[elisysd]

4. If I'm being honest, feels like you don't even know me

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Dear Patience - Niall Horan

For once, he was not dreading going to the media pen. He was excited even. Nothing could bring him down. Not even your questions. To be honest, he didn’t know what mean questions you could ask him. Not aware of it, a smug smile appeared on his face and he made his way to you and was taken aback by your content smile. You were far from the disappointed image he had imagined you would be.

“First of all, congratulations for your podium, Charles.” you said and he couldn’t help the shock to be painted on his face. He stuttered, barely managing to thank her. He didn’t even know what he answered her and hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself.

The after race meeting followed by a quick celebration were over in a blink of an eye and, it was still smiling that he made his way out of the paddock. He saw you walking right next to Marion. He looked at you from afar. You were laughing after Marion showed you something on her phone.  Your colleague saw him and whispered something to your ear before motioning for him to come. He knew Marion very well, she had been one of the first journalists to follow him closely ever since he started to make a name for himself. She was someone important to him.

“How are you doing, Charles?” she asked softly.

“Amazing! Really. It was a nice weekend.” he replied, barely looking at her, too focused on you who were typing on your phone. Marion didn’t fail to notice his attitude towards you.

“I have a meeting with a PR officer from Haas, we’re trying to have Steiner in an interview” she told Charles. “I have to go. Will you be fine on your own, Y/N?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you need me for something?” 

“It’s all good. Enjoy your evening.” she added, winking at you.

As soon as she was out of sight, you proceeded to make your way out, for good this time, not caring if Charles was following you or not. But he was, matching his pace with yours.

“So… you can’t tell me I sucked today! You had to be nice to me, it must have been tough.” he jokingly teased you.

Unexpectedly, it made you laugh. A real laugh and Charles found the sound beautiful.

“You don’t suck. You never had.” you calmly said. “Sure you made some questionable career choices with Ferrari but even I have to admit it, you’re a great driver.”

“But then, why do you hate me?”

“Don’t take it personal, it’s not you I hate. It’s what you mean to me.” you cryptically explained, before walking faster, leaving him here trying to grasp a meaning to the words you’ve only half spoken.

Miami was everything you hated. Too glamorous, too wild, too flashy, too much. You only wanted the weekend to end and it hadn’t even started. You were enjoying a little bit of peace and quiet on the patio of your hotel. The air seemed cooler and you didn’t know if it was because of the AC or because of the fact that it was less crowded here. You were watching a few highlights of the previous race to try to prepare your next interviews. Notes scribbled down on paper sheets were on display in front of you and anyone looking at them would wonder how you would manage to understand anything in them. But it was your own organized mess, you were used to it and it was how you were working. Focused on your video, your headphones on your ears, you hadn’t heard Jean approaching you. 

“Y/N, right the girl I wanted to see.” he greeted you with a sneaky smile that involuntarily made you gulp. 

“Jean… what brings you here?”

“I have something to tell you. And I believe you will particularly like it.” he winked at you, making you curious. “If I was telling you that we managed to get a driver for a long interview broadcasted on Sunday before the race and we wanted you to conduct it, what would you say?”

You blinked a few times, repeating his questions, trying to register what he was saying. It was all you had ever wanted and you couldn’t believe that the team was trusting you enough to let you do it on your own. You excitedly agreed, it was an opportunity you wouldn’t pass on. 

“And who is it? Which driver did you manage to book?” you asked. 

“Charles Leclerc.” Jean told you and suddenly, your smile faded. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no of course not. It’s just… Are you sure I'm the right fit? He doesn’t exactly appreciate my questions.”

“Well, I guess you are since his only condition to make this interview was you being behind the mic.”

Getting inside the Ferrari hospitality felt impressive. It was not everyday that their doors were open to journalists and to have the opportunity to be there, for a whole hour, felt surreal. You felt prepared but anxious still. It was an overwhelming feeling. You met Silvia who told you that everything was almost ready and that Charles was on his way. She got you a cappuccino and showed you the room, giving you time to settle. You looked around. Pictures of the drivers were everywhere. Charles’ wins in Spa, in Monza, in Austria. Carlos’ win in Silverstone was hung as well. Pictures of the crew. Pictures of old wins were there as well. If you were just turning around on yourself, you could have a full 360 of Ferrari’s history.  When you looked at the door, you almost jumped. Charles was there, leaning against the door frame, a half smile playing on his lips, not bothered to have you here in the slightest. Jean hadn’t fooled you, he knew you would be there, bringing to your lips a thousand unspoken questions.

“You asked me to be here. Why?”

“I like a good challenge.” he simply said, sitting on the chair in front of yours as you quickly verified the equipment and did the same. 

You breathed in and out, asked him if he was ready and started the interview. 

“Thank you, Charles Leclerc, for agreeing to this interview. Today, I wanted to take a deep dive into your career, showing you some key moments of it and collecting your thoughts on them. I didn’t select your wins, though. I’m a firm believer that you learn much more from someone when you look at their failures than in the moments they thrive.”

You paused, taking a moment to judge his reactions but as a true professional he didn’t show anything only, nodded. You gave him the tablet and invited him to click on the link of the first video. French GP 2022, his mistake, his scream on the radio.

“What goes through your mind right at this moment, when you lose your grip and end up in the barriers?”

“Frustration. A huge wave of frustration because I know that it’s one hundred percent my fault. I can’t blame the team, or the strategy or the set up because we had a perfect car and we were in position to win. I’m very critical of myself, I don’t accept any mistakes because I think this is how you improve. I wake up every day wondering what I can do to get better. It took time for me to make peace with my mistakes during this Grand Prix.”

You asked a few more questions, trying to understand his thought process and making him talk about his preparations for a Grand Prix before you told him to click on the next link. It’s an audio and not a video this time. And soon, the now sadly famous line ‘Box, box. Stay out, stay out.’ echoed in the room. 

“You really decided to show me all the traumatic moments of my career.” he bitterly laughed. 

“I’m not going to ask if that hurt because I know that it did. What was the first thing you did when the cameras were off and you were on your own?”

“I called my mom. It’s stupid, I know but at that moment I needed to hear her voice. I felt like a kid, confused and lost. It’s one of the very first times in my career where I started to doubt, not myself, but the environment I was in. It didn’t take long because I was quickly reassured by the staff.”

“Were the tensions with Mattia Binotto already there at the time?”

“I don’t like to talk about tensions with Mattia, because I know at the time he thought he was doing his best with the situations he was in. But yeah, it broke something that day. But that’s how it is, you know. Mistakes are made, you learn from them and you bounce back.”

“The last moment I chose is a more recent one, if you want to open it.” you guided him. 

Bahrain 2023. It made Charles laugh and shake his head. You really are determined to make him relive his worst moments. But still, he somehow found it easy to talk to you. You actually let him talk, say whatever he wanted to say, you were not searching for a headline you could reuse to deform his words. You were listening, only asking him to be more precise when it was needed. And you finally wrapped the interview, Silvia looked happy. It had taken less time than expected and maybe Charles could actually do that sponsor video shoot that they thought wouldn’t squeeze in his very tight schedule. 

“No. And before you ask, I don’t intend to go anywhere. This interview was supposed to last an hour and it’s barely half of it. I still have thirty minutes to spare, so Silvia, please, I would like to be left alone for the time being.”

“But Charles…”

“It was not a suggestion. I was trying to be polite.” he cut her and Silvia, even if she looked visibly frustrated, ended up giving up.

“Fine. You know where you have to be in half an hour. No lateness will be tolerated.”

As soon as she left the room, Charles exhaled deeply and looked at you. You are cleaning your stuff and are tidying the place and you are surprised to not see him move. Instead, he sat on the ground and studied each one of your movements, making you painfully aware of them. 

“I think it’s time for me now to ask you questions. And I won’t give you any other choices but to give satisfying answers otherwise I won’t let you leave that room.”

You glared at him. Who did he think he was? But as he saw you glancing at the door, his instincts took over and slided towards it, preventing you from running away. You sighed.

“You don’t give me the choice, do you?”

“Nope. It’s you, me and the questions I’m dying to ask you.” he replied, a playful look on his face. 

Understanding that you might get stuck with him for the next few minutes, you sat on the floor as well, right in front of him. 

“You said, in Baku, that you hated what I meant for you. I don’t understand. What did you mean?”

You fidgeted. You hated yourself for telling him that a few weeks ago because you knew that he would keep it in the back of his mind. And you were right.

“It’s personal.” you said, a bit more harshly than necessary in hope he wouldn’t ask further.

Your gaze is everywhere but on him and your bouncing legs, giving away how awkward Charles had made you. Suddenly, he felt bad and slowly approached you until his knees touched yours. He was so close that you couldn’t ignore him anymore but in a desperate attempt to achieve it, you closed your eyes, focusing on your shallow breathing. You felt his hand, hesitantly brushing yours until he took it in his to squeeze it. That’s when you opened your eyes. You could feel them burning from the tears you were trying so hard to fight back.

“I lost my baby brother a few months ago. Leukemia.” you confessed. 

“I’m sorry.”

“He is… was a huge fan of Ferrari and of you. Our granddad introduced me and later him to F1, he died a couple years ago. Watching the Grand Prix was our thing, you know, to my brother and I. When he was diagnosed and forced to be hospitalized I didn’t stop watching them. It was just in his hospital room, now. He was such a fan, he had so much merchandising from Ferrari, posters and flags on the walls of his room. He was idolizing you. You were his favorite driver and he had promised to himself that when he would get out of this hospital room he would do anything to meet you. His hero. And then I had to go to New-York for my studies. I always had him on the phone, though. After each Grand Prix. He was the happiest when you won in Bahrain last year. And he cried of happiness about Australia. For a moment, the doctors thought he was going better and he was only saying it was because of you. But then his health started to get worse all at once. And it correlated with the moment your results were downgrading. He died a few days after Silverstone.”

You paused, trying to steady your breath as you felt a tear falling down your cheek, caught up by Charles. 

“I… I guess… I associated you with his death in a twisted way and I’m sorry. It’s just… I didn’t get to say goodbye. I wasn’t even there for his funeral, I preferred to not go because if I didn’t then it wasn’t real. I was a coward. I still am. And you didn’t deserve any of it. It was just… easier? I don’t know. I don’t make any sense and…”

“You make sense. I understand. A little bit. Not everything but I relate… in some ways. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Truly.”

“I feel so guilty… about so many things. But treating you the way I did was wrong. You were right, I wasn’t fair. I didn’t give the same treatment to you that I did for others.”

“It’s okay. It’s behind us. Are your parents still around?”

“They are. Not the greatest parents, though. But it’s like that. You know, that’s why this job is so important to me. Because it makes me feel close to my brother and because I hope that it will help me get out of that freaking guilt feeling. I do it for him. I hope he is proud of me, wherever he is.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Suddenly his alarm went off, signaling him that the 30 minutes he had set up were over. It startled them both. He got up and looked at your distraught and pale face and he felt awful to leave you like this. But he had work commitments that he couldn’t avoid. You saw his look on you and forced a smile. 

“I’m okay. I promise, it’s just… It’s the first time I talked about Luc aloud since he has passed away.” you explained. “Go. You can’t afford to be late.”

He reluctantly ended up leaving you, not without thinking that something had changed between both of you.

Author's note: It's race day! I hope for Charles and Ferrari that everything will go well and pray for a podium.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

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[zerobaselove]

mon amour | seok matthew

pairing: tutor!matthew x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1294

warnings: none ! lowercase intended, not proofread

notes: this is so messy and completely self indulgent but i just think he's endearing.

“i just don’t get it,” you sighed, your head hitting the desk with a loud thud. 

this wasn’t the first time you had found yourself here, sitting in the library faced with an overwhelming amount of french notes you just couldn’t seem to comprehend. and you were certain at this rate it wouldn’t be the last. 

“here, what if i try explaining it in a different way?” 

seok matthew. the kind boy who had offered to tutor you after hearing from a mutual friend that you were struggling. you weren’t sure why he would even want to help you but you were thankful for him nonetheless. 

“it’s no use,” you let out another deep sigh, loud enough to draw the attention of some people around you. “the exam is tomorrow morning and i couldn’t even tell you the day of the week let alone all of this stuff.” 

“aujourd'hui c'est dimanche,” he beamed, only to be met with your deadpan look.  he couldn’t help but laugh at your expression, “it’s sunday.”

“i knew that, genius” 

he smiled once again and brought his hand up to ruffle your hair. “see, you’re smarter than you think!”

the comment made your face heat up more than you’d like to admit, and honestly you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. 

deciding to wrap it up a few hours later, you bid your farewells, only feeling a little more prepared than when you started the day. but it was better than nothing. 

the next day you woke up to a message from the boy you’ve started to grow fond of. 

maechu: good luck today, you got this! 

you couldn’t help a smile from spreading across your face at the kind message. you didn’t know when you started to smile so brightly from just his name on your phone but it had been creeping up on you the last few weeks and you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

but for now, you opted to reply to him, it was the least you could do. 

you: thanks matthew, for everything :] i’ll talk to you after! 

much to your surprise, the test didn’t feel to out of your skill level. maybe the tutoring actually was paying off. 

today had just been full of surprises, because who was there to greet you after your exam other than matthew himself. 

“what’re you doing here?” 

“c’mon” he grabbed your hand, tugging you down the hall, “we are going to celebrate!” 

before you could even respond you were being pulled out the front doors of the school and down to the bus stop. 

“will you at least tell me where we are going?” you questioned the boy, trying to keep it cool as you became increasingly more aware of your hand in his. 

he simply smiled and shook his head before catching a glimpse of the bus coming down the road and dragging you to two empty seats in the back. 

you found yourself people watching as the bus moved along, your hand now free from his grasp, and you couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. 

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a nudge on your arm, looking over to see an airpod as an offering. smiling to the boy, you put in the headphone and returned to looking out the window, this time accompanied by what you could only assume was a sam kim song. 

“psst, we’re here” 

your eyes opened to the feeling of being gently nudged by matthew, his hand back in yours as he led the two of you off the bus at your destination. 

you didn’t even remember falling asleep but you were sure you’d never forget the embarrassment of waking up after that. that was until you saw where he had taken you. a small park overlooking the river; it was still early in the afternoon so it was more empty and peaceful than usual, and this is exactly what you needed. 

now it was your turn to pull the boy somewhere, leading him to the nearby swing set, sitting beside each other as you rocked back and forth. 

“d’you like it?” 

“it’s perfect” you nodded, turning your view from the lake ahead to the boy beside you. 

before you knew it the sun was starting to set and the air had started getting chillier than you were dressed for, but you had no complaints. it had been nice to finally hang out with matthew outside of the dusty library, and the two of you got along even better than you could’ve thought. 

while you had no complaints, your body seemed to tell a different story, and matthew had seemed to notice; offering you his plaid jacket to protect you from the wind. 

before you could protest and say it wasn’t that cold, he had already draped the jacket over your shoulders before ruffling your hair once again. it had become a habit of his. 

“hey did you check your test score?” you were thankful he broke the silence, maybe he hadn’t noticed the way your cheeks flushed at the realisation of wearing his jacket. 

“oh it should be out now shouldn’t it?” you pulled your phone out of your pocket to check, but pausing before you could open the webpage. 

matthew seemed to take notice of your hesitation, “do you want me to check?” he laughed, getting a nod from you in return along with your phone. 

a smile spread across his face as he opened the results. 

“well is it good?” your curiosity was getting the best of you. 

“you got a 93!” he smiled, turning the screen so you could read it yourself. you couldn’t help but grab your phone to get a closer look, in absolute disbelief of the results. 

before your better judgement could stop you, you had your arms wrapped around matthews frame in a tight hug, mumbling a thank you as your face was pressed into him. 

it took a moment but matthew hugged you back even tighter, “it was all you, i told you you were smarter than you thought.” 

the adrenaline must’ve spread to matthew because next thing you knew you had both pulled away from the hug and he had planted a chaste kiss on your lips. 

“oh my god,” matthew quickly took a step back. “i’m so sorry, i-“ his face had begun to flush a deep crimson. “i don’t know what got into me i just-“ 

you couldn’t help but giggle at his panic, “matthew.”

he went silent, tilting his head to the side like a puppy dog, a small hum of confusion leaving his mouth. 

“kiss me again.” 

“what?” he managed to spit out, convinced he didn’t hear you right. 

you repeated yourself, taking a step closer to close the gap between you two. that seemed to work as he finally seemed to take the hint. his hand coming up to cup your cheek before connecting your lips in a gentle kiss, this time pulling away smiling from ear to ear. you were sure you were mirroring his expression as you reached up to plant a light kiss on his now flushed cheeks. 

“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do that.” he smiled, taking your hand in his. 

“i could say the same,” you squeezed his hand, swinging them a bit as you walked. “let’s get back yeah?” 

it was his turn to let out a sigh, “do we have to?” 

you couldn’t help but laugh as you approached the bus stop. “wouldn’t you rather kiss me somewhere that isn’t cold?” 

“i’m not picky really, but does that mean i get to do it again?”

turning to the boy, you nodded. “only if you keep helping me study.”

“deal.”

[lemon-boy-stan]

THE 1 - JOHNNY SUH

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The wait for the first standalone chapter of my NCT The Eras series has finally ended! SUMMARY: Johnny and the reader have been best friends since time itself, and they've never fought, until her most recent breakup. GENRE: smut. WARNINGS: unprotected sex, angry sex, years of tension built up between Johnny and the reader, manhandling.

I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

You know the greatest films of all time were never made

Johnny always made it clear that he hated your boyfriends, ever since your first boyfriend in highschool. He made it clear that he hated them and that they weren't good for you, and when it turned out to be true, he was always pissed.

Johnny had only ever had one girlfriend before, in his final year of highschool, the year Nakamoto Yuta took you to prom. You weren't even sure if Johnny was going, and he asked her out the day before.

They seemed pretty happy at the dance, and they were hot and sexy at the after party; Johnny doing shots off her chest. You had to admit, you were a little jealous. Your own date was god knows where, probably off flirting with some jock or some cheerleader. The first thing he'd said to you which you didn't tell Johnny was that tonight was completely casual. It was just so neither of you would go alone.

The prom and the after party was good, but the weeks after that were not. It was Yuta who dumped you first. You'd been casually seeing each other, even though Johnny had gotten mad about the casual part. "Don't date him if he's got more than one partner," he'd said. "I don't care if he's bisexual." so, it wasn't much of a surprise when he dumped you for Mark, but it hurt. Johnny liked to solve problems with violence.

You preffered rumours, and that was when a war broke out, a week before school finished, a day after you'd both recieved acceptance letters from the same college you'd applied to - school wasn't going to stop two best friends from seeing each other.

It was the world's most horrendus and messiest breakup in the history of messy breakups. Johnny never cried, but his ego had been hurt. She'd said something to him, or about him that you never heard. He never told you what she said, but as his sobs rattled the house you knew you would kill her.

Two years later, and Johnny had stopped dating, dedicating his life to lectures and clubs at college and looking after the four-room flat that you shared in New York. You, of course, had not learned your lesson.

I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now

Johnny rolled his eyes as you swiped left on your phone. "Seriously," he scoffed, shoving his fork into his food; crunch, crunch. You arched your eyebrow, "what, John?" it had been rocky since Monday, and you brought a blind date home. He snorted, "nothing." you gritted your teeth.

He cocked his head and smiled, "so, plans for today. Do you have another date who's going to interrupt my beauty sleep? Please tell me so I can buy noise cancelling headphones."

The phone dropped on the table almost as soon as your jaw dropped to the floor before you recovered. "Do you have a problem with my love life?" you cocked your head, crossing your arms. Johnny smirked, "yeah, because getting fucked by every guy on campus is a love life." you let out a frustrated scream.

"What the the fuck is your problem?!" you shrieked loudly. "My problem?" he yelled back, "you're the one who doesn't seem to get the intention of every guy who talks to you and then cries as if you didn't see it coming! You're fucking stupid, that's my fucking problem!"

You ignored the stinging pain of his words, using that energy to fire back something even nastier. "At least guys want to fuck me! At least I'm with guys when I'm in my room, unlike you, who probably just jerks off every day like an unexperienced virgin!"

But we were something, don't you think so?Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

(Ooh)

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

And that's when you scream, because he lifts you off the chair, with a deadly strong grip and lightning fast speed. "Johnny!" you shriek as he drags you into his bedroom. "Johnny! Let me go! Let me go!" but why weren't you scared? Why were you just frustrated?

Your best friend throws you on on his bed. Chucks you. You know what's going to happen, and you can't deny you want it. But you hate him. You hate him so much. And he he hates you too. Oh, yes. You're pretty sure he's hated you ever since kindergarten.

Because, you see, it's not your boyfriends who he hates. It's you. From helping you up after you fell off the swings to being your partner in the science project to standing up for you when they bullied you to picking you first in his sports team to picking you up from a party to to taking you you out your first prom prom to teaching you how to kiss to beating up Nakamoto Yuta and ever other shitty boyfriend to throwing you on his bed he's hated you. And you've hated him. Neither of you have seen it.

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

I guess you never know, never know

And it's another day waking up alone

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

Now, as he grabs your top top with his hand and rips it off your chest and tears off his shirt and pulls down your skirt, you both know clear as day just how much you hate each other.

You know, because the tears roll down your cheeks when he kisses you, finally, finally on the lips. "I hate you," you sob into him, as he leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, down your chest, along the line of your bra. He ignores you for now, strong, muscular figure and hot, soft lips making their way down your body.

"I hate all the guys you fuck," he growls while licking a slit down your neck. "I hate all the guys that say they love you." a soft gasp escapes your mouth as he sucks on your neck. "And I hate the fact that you think I have no experience."

Ah. So, it was the ego that made him throw you on his bed. You let out a sigh as his tongue worked its way around your clothed breasts, the motion of his mouth creating stars on the ceiling. You didn't even hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, or his pants falling to the floor. You couldn't even remember how to say that you hated him, just that you wanted him, just that you knew to ask him.

I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you

If one thing had been different

Would everything be different today?

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defense, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

(Ooh)

The stars got bigger and bigger as he flicked his tongue around your nipples, bra gone - when had he taken it off? The stars got bigger and your mind got smaller and soon all you could say was his name. All you could say was his name, "please Johnny please." and then it came out in a scream.

You clapped your hand over your mouth, grabbing the sheets with your left, body shifting up and down his bed, his cock now suddenly inches inside you. Big. He was so big. The tears rolled rolled down your cheeks as you bubbled his name, unable to comprehend. "Big, Johnny. Big." hiccupping his name.

All he did was grunt and breathe as he thrust his full length into you. He kissed your scream down, and it turned good. Now you were moaning and he and he was grunting, placing sloppy kisses each time he thrusted.

He couldn't help but think as the sounds left your mouth and you squirmed finally, finally how much he loved you. How much he'd always loved you. From your dreadful mornings to dreadful days, to afternoons where you cried your heart out on his shoulder. To times where he thought of you, when he was fucking her, and rightfully so, why she broke up with him. To the day where he cried because she'd called you the worst, most unthinkable thing. To the times he'd beaten up every good for nothing boyfriend, he'd loved you, forever and always, as he slowed his pace down.

"I love you," he murmured. You moaned his name, gripping his hair. "Johnny," and he'd never been scared his whole life but now he was as he released his cum inside you and you whined, "Johnny." and he was still scared as he pulled out and you woke up and smiled. "I love you too."

NCT THE ERAS MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[iameliseposts]

can i request “Whattt, I’m not lying…” 🙈 with riddle and idia? love ur work!!

Ooh this is my last 200 followers event prompt request! I loved doing each and everyone one of these.

I wasn't sure whenever to make this hcs or full writing, so I did both! I hope you enjoy!

“Whattt, I’m not lying…” Riddle x MC, Idia x MC 200 Followers Event

Riddle Rosehearts

Today was a bright day

Up above, the sun gleams through the barrage of cloud and lightens the land below

And on the ground, Riddle’s face was so red it could be considered some sort of shining star

“WHAT ARE YOU BOTH DOING??” He screamed at the top of his lungs without his voice cracking (man is a professional) 

Ace and Deuce looked at each other and then the ground; best not to stare at the bright sun that is Riddle’s face

So maybeee burning the roses was a bad idea, but it’s not like it was their fault

They didn’t mean to magically produce fire instead of red paint

They could feel the incoming 2 hour lecture they’d have to sit through with a 1000 word apology letter that followed suite

But instead they heard, “Riddle! How could you???”

Riddle’s face looked as panicked as Ace and Deuce looked before

Behind Riddle was you

And you were clearly mad

“Rose, I promise I have a good reason to-”

“And I didn’t want you to be too mad at my friends!” You huffed, looking away. Riddle shook his hands violently to try to convince you. “I… I wasn’t mad.” 

You looked at him, his face still red, though now it was because he was flushed. “You weren’t mad? Really? Your face tells me you’re lying.” “No, no, not at all.” Riddle sucked in a breath, mentally preparing himself, “I was about to tell them that… they should do better next time.”

Ace and Deuce immediately fled to their rooms, thrilled that they got out of punishment. 

After all, you were the only one who could glare at the sun.

Idia Shroud

Idia tapped his foot rapidly as he leered on his computer screen

The sound of buttons tapping was the only noise filling the air, as the flame haired man only focused on his game

Beside him was his phone that was buzzing over and over 

He didn’t notice, as he had his headphones in and was too absorbed in his hobby 

“Hah, w for me. I was expecting this tournament to be easy, but it’s this easy? Might as well hop into another tournament to kill time.”

Idia has been spending more time on his games now than before

Ortho has been working on a big group project with a couple other first years, so he wasn’t in their shared room often

Without Ortho, Idia doesn’t have Ortho to tinker with or have someone to scold him for not going out

That was, until you came into his life

“This time, I’ll finish them in one turn.”

Right before he started another game up, the door swung open behind him and in came you

“I knew it! You were still in your room!” You pointed a finger towards Idia accusingly. “Have you been ignoring my texts?”

Idia jumped in his gaming chair, nearly falling over and taking his table down with him. “H-how did you get in here?? A-and I didn’t ignore you…” He looked over at his phone, seeing the several notifications. Oops…

You crossed your arms and turned your head away. “You said you would come out of your room this week. You promised! It’s Sunday and you haven’t come out to see me.” “No I… I was gonna come out.” He wasn’t very convincing.

You just looked at him, deadpanned. You didn’t even need to say anything. 

Idia mentally gulped as he stood up. “I’m not lying! But we’re coming back in an hour. We can play a m-multiplayer game, if you’re interested.”

[kelcemenow]

Your Voice - Chapter 2.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 861

Warnings None...there's a first time for everything!

This Anon request piqued my interest as I used to read a lot of Soulmate AU fanfiction 'back in the day' and I really liked this idea! AU's give me so much creative freedom...and a chance to go back to college Travis!! Now, I wasn't going to make this a series but as I was writing, I realised it is going to have to be as I had a great idea for it! I hope you enjoy! "Can I request a Travis k x soulmate au? pls 😩"

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

The loud, shrill sound of the morning alarm startled you from your sleep. You rolled over in your bed and hit snooze, groaning as your head pounded, the result of a successful party the night before. Tiffany had wanted you to stay the night with her but you quickly made the excuse of an early football practice session. You didn’t necessarily like lying to Tiffany but your Soulmate’s voice had been getting clearer and louder over the past couple of weeks and you were all the more confident that it wasn’t Tiffany.

You squinted at the ceiling above you, attempting to block out as much light as possible from your vision. As you began to drift back into a sleep, your phone buzzed on the dresser next to you. Rolling over once again to retrieve your phone, you swiped up to see numerous missed calls and unread text messages from Tiffany. Ignoring them, you instead tapped on the text from your best friend and football teammate, Javen.

“Yo Trav. Wanna hang out today?”

You rubbed your eyes, quickly glancing at the clock and tapping the screen to reply.

“Sure man. About 11?”

Javen responded quickly.

“Cool.”

You slowly rose from your bed, stretching your back and shoulder muscles before grabbing a towel and making your way to the bathroom. Turning the faucet, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water fall onto your skin. You closed your eyes and replayed as many sentences from your Soulmate as you could remember, focusing on her voice and trying desperately to find any clues that you may have missed but to no avail. You shook your head and continued to wash your hair and body, rinsing off any remaining soap before wrapping the towel around your waist. You took your hand and wiped the condensation from the mirror, checking the reflection and running your hands through your hair.

“I’m tired of it, I’m never going to find him...I give up.”

You stopped dead. Your eyebrows lowered and your heart fluttered. Your Soulmate’s voice was so quiet and downhearted and as you stared into the mirror in front of you, your hands gripped the edge of the sink.

“Come on, who are you?”

You paced back into the bedroom, throwing a pair of grey sweatpants on and a plain white t-shirt. You checked yourself over again once more in the mirror before grabbing your phone and keys, leaving the dorm early for a quick run and the hopes of possibly bumping into someone who would give you a clue or a hint.

The morning sun warmed your skin as you jogged casually through the college campus. A few people were around but for a Sunday morning it was rather quiet.

As you were early, you stopped by the coffee shop and joined the end of the line. The girl in front of you was moving her head to the rhythm of whatever music she was listening to through her headphones. She turned her head to the right and you caught a glimpse of her profile.

"Y/N?"

She continued to bob her head, her hair bouncing against her back. You gently tapped her on her arm, causing her to jump slightly and pull the headphones down onto the back of her neck.

She turned to face you, her expression brightening, "Oh hi, Travis."

You smiled a little, "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. How was the rest of the party last night?"

"Oh, I wasn't there long after I walked you, it wasn't that much fun." You quickly raised your eyebrows as your argument with Tiffany echoed in your head.

Y/N tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "Well, thank you again. I really appreciated it."

"Don't worry about it."

There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence between the pair of you, similar to last night and as you started to speak, so did she.

"You wanna grab a table?-"

"So, what are you up to?-"

She exhaled a laugh, as did you and you watched as she clasped her hands in front of her, "I'd really like to, Travis, but I have to get going to my study group."

Your heart sank a little, but you were unsure as to why, "Studying on a Sunday?" You said with a raised eyebrow.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, "I got a test tomorrow morning, plus I have rehearsals for the play tonight."

"Oh right, you're in the spring musical. I forgot about that." You whistled, "Wow, you are busy."

Y/N moved to the front of the line and quickly ordered her coffee, turning back to you, "Busy is an understatement. I barely have time for anything!"

"No time to find your Soulmate then?"

Y/N grabbed her take-out cup, "Oh, I decided this morning that I've given up on that now. Anyway, I'll see you around."

You were left in the wake of her sweet scented perfume as your eyes widened with understanding, the noises around you slowly faded as you repeated your Soulmates more recent words.

“I’m tired of it, I’m never going to find him...I give up.”

"Ummm, excuse me? Can I take your order?"

______________________________________________________________

OOOOH! I'll get working on the final chapter of this little series and all being well it'll be posted by the end of the week. As always, let me know if you would like to be added to my Taglist for all of my future writing!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989

[lxkeeeee]

「GUNITA」 Scaramouche x GN! Reader —memory, recollection

synopsis: thunder rumbles in the distance, soft pitter patter of rain hitting the cold cement sidewalk, the reflection of the street light can be seen on the puddle forming everywhere. Two strangers sharing an umbrella as they wait for the bus the cold evening winds making them shiver—this specific scene ignites a warmth feeling—a memory perhaps?

genre: Reincarnation Au, fluff with angst if you squint

warnings: curse words, mentions of death and trauma (past life)

Scaramouche groaned in annoyance as he has been waiting underneath the large tree by the street—waiting for the bus, it has been hours since his shift at the cafe ended, the sun had already set hours ago and he can see dark grey clouds starting to form.

“shit, I forgot to bring my umbrella.” he mutters underneath his breath, cursing himself for insisting it wouldn't rain today.

Kazuha had already left awhile ago as both of his moms picked him up, he offered him a ride home but he insisted that he would be fine in just taking the bus and in which the latter respected his wishes and bid him farewell.

He scoffed at the memory, deeply regretting not accepting the offer—he puts on his headphones, taking out his phone and eventually choosing a song—come inside of my heart by IV of SPADES started to play, and shoving his hands and along with his phone into the pocket of his dark black pants. Scaramouche didn't really like listening to romance songs but he just decided to give this song a try since he kept hearing it on social media.

As he stood there, under the night sky filled with dark and thunderous clouds, headphones blasting with music, he's getting more annoyed by the second—He could just call his aunt to pick him up but he prefers not to see the smug look of Nahida that she was right that it was gonna rain and he insisted it would not due to how sunny the morning was.

He felt a soft tap on his shoulder, then another and another.

“unfuckingbelievable.” he grumbles under his breath, “Good thing both my phone and headphones are waterproof.” he mutters to himself as he felt his clothes starting to get wet—his loose white polo shirt starting to have wet stains from the rain, thunder can be heard in the distance.

You gently rearrange the flowers that was displayed on the windows, watering them to their required amount, you passed by the glass door of the shop and you flipped the open sign to closed. You smiled to yourself, proud of the accomplishment you have done for the day.

Your eyes traveled to the numerous plants inside your shop, a warmth feeling in your heart to see them grow so healthy and beautifully. You gently removed your gardening gloves and put them to where you usually store it, a small bead of sweat trailing down at the side of your face—quickly using your arm to wipe them off.

“Alright, it's time to close the shop.” you mutter to yourself.

On Sundays you worked at your very own flowershop and during Mondays until Saturdays you worked at your clinic—specifically a vet and during that time you have workers doing your work at the flowershop and you'll take their shift during late afternoons. You just love growing your own flowers and vegetables and be able to sell them to the people and watch their eyes glint in awe and admiration for something that your very hands grew—it fills your heart with pride and joy.

You grabbed your bag—along with your phone, wallet, umbrella, and keys before eventually closing the shop, your eyes noticing the dark grey clouds forming and eventually seeing soft pitter patter of rain hitting the ground. You smiled softly to yourself, “At least the plants outside can get water.” before opening up your umbrella and began walking towards the bus stop. Their shoes making small taps against the cement sidewalk, their eyes occasionally looking the ripples in the small puddles created by the rain, the street lights casting a shadow over their body as they passed by multiple buildings. Their eyes landed into the big tree where the bus stop sign is at, “They seriously needed to build a small waiting shed there.” they mutter to themselves before their eyes landed into...a person?

They thought to themselves, eyes squinting to get a better view, the person was soaked—their once loose white polo shirt has been completely wet to the point they can see the undershirt underneath it, their hair dripping wet and is that a headphone?

They winced, the person looked like they've been there for awhile now.

You sighed to yourself as you slowly approached the the male with your umbrella in hand.

He didn't seem to notice you, his eyes closed and you can hear the song that was playing on his headphones.

Is he asleep? You thought to yourself, feeling pity for the guy before eventually sharing your umbrella with him, the rain finally stopped hitting the male and started to hit on the soft rubber material of the umbrella.

Your eyes continued to examine the guys features and you would be lying to yourself if you didn't find him attractive.

He has been here for archons how long, he stopped caring that he got wet a few minutes ago, he decided to get lost into the music as the rain continued to pour, some of his dark indigo hair getting into his face.

Alam mo ba kung pano nahulog sayo, naramdaman lang bigla ng puso¹ the singer of the song he was listening to sang, he just got lost into the moment. He got lost in his thoughts when suddenly the soft taps of the rain hitting his body stopped, at first he thought the rain had stopped pouring but he knew it didn't as he could still hear the tapping of raindrops hitting something rubber?

He opened his left eye and his soft indigo eyes finally seeing a person standing next to him sharing their umbrella.

Usually he would grumble in annoyance or perhaps curse at the person if a stranger did this but surprisingly he did not, his eyes scanning the feature of the person next to him—finding familiarity in those [e/c] eyes of theirs and how they looked at him in concern and for a brief moment he felt warm despite the wet and cold shirt he was wearing that disgustingly stick into his skin.

He wanted to know that the stranger knew that he acknowledged their presence, “Thank you.” he softly mutters, briefly surprised by himself before eventually managing his cool.

You nodded at him as you continue to hold the umbrella between the two of you.

Isayaw mo ako, (Trans: dance with me,)

Sa gitna ng ulan mahal ko, (in the middle of the rain my love,)

Kapalit man nito'y buhay ko, (in exchange for my life,)

Gagawin ang lahat para sayo, (I would do everything for you,)

Alam kong mahal mo na rin ako. (I know that you loved me too.)

There was oddly familiarity in this scene and unknowingly both of you knew that, de ja vu perhaps?

Both of you stood so close to each to share a single umbrella, his cold wet sleeves against their own dry ones, he mutters a soft “Sorry for that.” and they just replied with “Don't worry about it.”

Scaramouche just nodded before he felt himself slowly get lost into the music again and [y/n] noticed and they just smiled, “I'll tell you when the bus comes.” and Scaramouche just nodded.

As he closed his eyes, a memory flashed into his mind.

“Archons it's starting to rain.” a familiar person says and he just rolled his eyes as he noticed their glinting [e/c] eyes staring at his hat.

“No [y/n] sweetheart, I am not going to share my hat.” he scoffed and they just whined as small pear shaped items started to form as the rain hit the green jewelry on their hip.

“Please, please, pleasee I'm starting to create bloom reactions and it doesn't hurt much but it's pretty annoying.” they whined and the harbinger just rolled their eyes, “Ugh this bitch, you're lucky I love you.” he mutters in annoyance as he urges the other to shelter under his large hat.

“I love you too, Kunikuzushi.”

His eyes snapped wide open, as his soft indigo eyes immediately landed on to the stranger next to him their hand typing away on their phone and the other holding the umbrella. He can recall that both the person in his memory and the one outside his mind are the same person. He can feel his heart thumped loudly against his ribcage.

Your eyes left your screen—[e/c] eyes against soft indigo ones.

The male can feel his mouth drying as he felt a certain longing for you, his heart arched unexplainably. Why is he reacting like this to you? A mere stranger sharing their umbrella to him.

Despite the words he just said on his mind, he knew that somehow and someway both of you knew each other, both of you were connected with one another.

He wants to say something but they might think he just lost his sanity while waiting for the bus for god knows how long and speaking of bus where the fuck is it? It's been like 2 hours already—it was actually just almost an hour.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked as you noticed the male staring at you for some time now, you didn't mind it though—actually you do mind because who wouldn't mind if an extremely attractive person was staring at you? But despite that, he somehow looks familiar, you feel your heart tugging it's strings telling you something. The way it ached as you admired his features, everything about him look so familiar as if you've met him years ago.

Archons your voice is so smooth, he noted. He swallowed the lump in his throat and you noticed how his adams apple bobbed up and down. “Sorry, I got lost in thought. I just thought that you kind of looked familiar despite just meeting for the first time.” he says, voice hoarse as he felt his heart thumped very loudly against his chest. “Sorry, I know it's weird but why do I have a feeling that I somehow knew you?”

Oh great and late barbatos, this man is so fine, you thought to your head before giving the man with a soft smile. “No worries, I get it. I've been getting that feeling when I saw you too. Like I've known you for awhile now.”

Scaramouche smiled, accidentally surprising himself the second time during that day, “My name is Kunikuzushi but usually I go by Scaramouche.” he introduces himself and you nodded, heart thumping as you heard his name—it sounds so familiar, a certain longing in your heart, an urge to just embrace him but you shook away those thoughts as you opt to smile at him, “It is a pleasure to meet you Scaramouche, my name is [y/n].”

Scaramouche's eyes widen when you said your name, warmth enveloping his body, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Hearing you say your own name brought so many emotions in him. He wants to hold you and never let you go again. He felt like he had lost you before but now he found you once more.

“It is also a pleasure to meet you [y/n].” he softly says and they nodded, his soft indigo eyes landed on their hand that was holding the umbrella. “Would you like it if I hold the umbrella?” he asked and the other just shake their head, “It's fine, I can handle it.” they say and Scaramouche shook his head, “Please let me, it's the least I could do.” and [y/n] sighs before gently giving the male the umbrella they were holding. Scaramouche held the umbrella and made sure both of them didn't get wet from the rain, the winds making both of them shiver. In the corner of his eye he can see the other typed away on their phone—he just looked away to respect their privacy.

A few minutes have passed and still no sign of the bus arriving.

“My friend is about to pick me up in a few minutes, do you like it if you want to hitch a ride with us?” the other spoke softly, there's just something about the two of them under the rain sharing an umbrella that feels intimate or maybe Scaramouche is going insane.

He shakes his, “Thank you for the kind offer but I prefer not to wet your friend's car seat.” he says as he gestures to his really wet clothes. The other just looked at him in guilt, “Sorry, I forgot.” they say and he chuckles, “Fret not, I can wait a few more minutes and if push comes to shove I'm gonna ask my friends to pick me up.” he says and the other just nodded, “If so, please take my umbrella. I don't want you to stay underneath the rain. It might make you sick.” they say.

“Thank you, I'll return it to you. May I perhaps ask for your number so I can schedule when I could return it and also perhaps if you want to get dinner sometime?” he asks, uncharacteristically hopeful for a mere thing as a phone number but fuck it.

Scaramouche noticed how the other's face turned a shade of red underneath the street light and he silently chuckles, not knowing with his own blush coated cheeks.

The other nodded and their hand immediately scrambled to their pockets to look for your wallet—your long and slender hands found it and began to look for a specific card.

“Aha!” you cheered softly and Scaramouche could just chuckle at your excited self, he watched as you handed him a card, his eyes scanned the letters—and it was a business card, filled with your name, number, email, social media and shop address.

He smiled before taking out his phone—you watched him type your number and see him typed and sent a message to it. Your phone dinged, you opened to see an unfamiliar number.

09×××××××××: hey, this is scaramouche.

You quickly saved it and gave the male a smile. “Let's go out for dinner next time.” you winked and it made the other blush lightly and you chuckled despite the loud beating of your heart and the warmth of your cheeks.

Somewhere around the the distance you noticed a familiar car approaching where both of you stood.

“It seems my ride is here, are you really sure don't want to give you a ride?” You asks and the other just nodded, “Yeah, I think I'll be fine.”

The car halted on where you stood and the car window slid down and to reveal a familiar Funeral Parlor Director.

“Yoohoo! What a bunch of wet kittens you two are.” the brown haired female said and you rolled your eyes at her, “Hey, Hu.” you greeted and the other just wink, “Hey,hey!” before closing the window again and the click of the car door can be heard.

You turned to look at Scaramouche, “Text me once you get home okay? And please be safe.” You say not really wanting to leave him alone in the rain.

The other just smiled, “Same as you, do text me if you got home safe.” and you nodded.

Scaramouche carefully guided you towards the car door, making sure you didn't get wet, you waved goodbye to him and he let a small wave in return.

His soft indigo eyes watched the figure of the car slowly disappears into the distance.

A few minutes later a soon saw a bus approaching where he stood and mutters underneath his breath, fucking finally.

Scaramouche was annoyed it took a goddamn sweet time to get here but it was eased up since he got to meet you.

He closed the umbrella before he boarded the bus, the conductor just giving him a side eye and he just deadpans before choosing a seat at the back.

He mindlessly scrolled through his social media before a ding can be heard and a notification appeared at the top of his screen.

[y/n] : I got home safely, how about you? Are you still waiting for the bus?

Scaramouche smiled before typing a reply.

[Scaramouche]: don't worry, the bus arrived a few minutes you guys left.

He typed and sent and another ding can be heard a few seconds later.

[y/n] : thank archons, please get home safe&lt;3

Seeing the heart symbol made his flutter, he shook his head before typing his reply.

[Scaramouche] : I will, don't worry. I'll talk to you later&lt;3

He typed and sent and another ding can be heard.

[y/n] : alright! Travel safe. See you later!

Scaramouche smiled before turning off his phone as he continues to listen to some music.

a/n: omg I'm so proud of this oneeee, I might make it into mini series of what the two would usually do when they hung outtt and I might try making it into a smau a little bittt. But anyways there's probably another part for this. THIS HAS BEEN BASED OFF ON SOMEONES IDEA [the one tagged]

tags: @baelloraa

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

reblogs are appreciated&lt;3

[lives-in-midgard]

Welcome to New York

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Reader moves to New York to start a new life and meets Bucky there....

Warnings: fluff! light angst?

A/C: Hi I hope everyone is having a good day/night!

Masterlist

“Welcome to New York, it’s been waiting for you. Welcome to New York.” You heard Taylor sing through your headphones as you fly over New York. You wanted to move to New York and start a new life there. After you got out of the plane you pick up your car and your suitcase. You only packed the most important stuff, and you are going to buy everything else later. You took care of the apartment and furniture weeks ago, now you just have to look for a job. After you parked your car in the parking lot you carried the light boxes into your apartment. When you wanted to pick up the one with the books you realize how heavy it is.

“Can I help you?” Someone asked you from behind. You turned around and saw a cute guy standing there.

You nod “That would be nice.” He took your box and followed you inside. You went to the elevator and pushed the button to the floor where your apartment is.

“That’s my floor, too” The stranger says. Normally you wouldn’t let strangers help you, but you don’t have another choice. When the elevator opened you go to your apartment and open the door for him.

“Where should I place it?” You showed him your room and he placed it there. You went back to the living room.

“Thank you for your help.” He smiles.

“Of course, I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“Y/N L/N.”

“If you ever need anything you just have to knock on my door!” Bucky pointed at his door which is just across from yours.

“I will come back to that.”

“I’ll go and let you unpack and arrive in peace.” Bucky walked to the door but before he goes, he turned around to face you and said “Welcome to New York.” You smiled and he leaves your apartment. After you unpacked the boxes, you ordered a pizza.

…

The next few days you were searching for a job and bought everything you still need for your apartment. Sometimes you saw Bucky in the hallway and greeted him with a smile. One time you saw him coming home from a walk with a cat and he let you pet her and he told you that her name is Alpine. You found out that Bucky is an avenger but you didn’t tell him that you know that. After living there for two weeks you finally found a job. It is in a bakery and you really like it there.

….

Today you had a day off so you thought you could build the closet, now that you have time. You needed some help so you thought it would be a great idea to ask Bucky for help. You took a breath and knocked on his door. After a few seconds he opened the door.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky smiled softly.

“Hey, I need some help building the closet and I thought if you have time to help me.” You asked him.

Bucky nodded. “Sure, I’ll help you. Is it okay if I bring Alpine with me?”

“Of course!” He smiled. With Alpine in his arms, he followed you inside your apartment. Bucky placed Alpine on your couch, and he started to build the closet.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime.” He gave you a little smile.

…

The months passed by Bucky and you get closer and closer to each other. He knocked on your door when he needed eggs, sugar or milk just so he could see you.

“Do you have some milk for my coffee?” He asked you on a Sunday morning and you had to laugh because it was the third time this week that he needed something.

“Why don’t you drink your coffee here?” You invited him and he of course said yes.

You often meet on the hallway when you went to work or came home. He visited you at work and you talked and had a good time.

“And then there is Sam, he really gets on my nerves.” He made you laugh.

“What about your family and friends from home?” Bucky asked you and you got nervous.

“Oh, there isn’t much to say. I love my family and miss them, but I didn’t have many friends at home. Tell me more about you.”

You took care of Alpine when he was on a mission and had movie nights together. One time he knocked on your door in the middle of the night you were afraid it could be someone else.

“It’s just me Bucky.” He said and you were relieved. When you opened the door, you saw Bucky standing there bleeding and you took care of his wounds. That was also the night he told you about his feelings for you and asked you out on a date. A week later you had the perfect date. He took you to a restaurant, then you went for a walk and ended the night with a movie.

…

“Tony is throwing a party and I thought it would be a good idea for you to meet my friends.” Bucky said and you immediately frezzed. Bucky had a confused look on his face when he saw your scared look.

“A party…are there going to be other people than just your friends?” You got so nervous and scared. You didn’t want to get into the spotlight that’s also why Bucky and you mostly hang out at home.

“Yeah, but we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. You can meet them another time.” You nodded and Bucky cupped your face and gave you a kiss. On the day of the party you both stayed at home and had a nice day.

…

You were five months together and everything is perfect. You were watching a movie cuddled up with Bucky and Alpine next to you. You haven’t felt so happy and save for ages. Suddenly your phone made a noise and you reached for it. You unlocked it and saw a new massage you opened it and freeze.

“I know where you are.” the message said.

[whumpy-wyrms]

The Last Lab Rat #2: Let Me Go

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content: lab whump, captivity, gender dysphoria, failed escape attempt, needles, drugging, begging, test subject whumpee, defiant whumpee, trans whumpee, intimate whumper

—

Dew woke up the next morning still cooped up under the bed. He would’ve almost thought he was somewhere else, that the events of yesterday were just a terrible dream, if it weren’t for the blinding fluorescent lights peaking through the blanket. His room at home was almost always dark, with his roommates respecting Dew’s sensory sensitivity.

He had spent the rest of yesterday hiding, terrified, under the bed while Anton would creep in the room once in a while to give him food and water. The scientist had tried to reason with Dew, but he ignored his fucked up attempt at comfort. Anton hadn’t tried to make Dew do anything else that day, giving him the space he needed to accept his new life as a test subject.

But Dew wouldn’t just accept something like that, he would find a way out of here, soon enough. He’d go back to his normal life, and this would all soon feel like a bad dream.

Dew heard those familiar footsteps heading towards his room and sighed. He didn’t feel like talking to people today. He heard the lock click and door open, and he pulled the blanket around himself more.

“Alright, Dew,” Anton swiftly walked to Dew’s bed and crouched down, moving the blanket from over Dew’s face. “It’s a new day, up and at ‘em.”

“What day is it?” Dew groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He never was much of a morning person.

“Sunday.” Great, so Dew had been stuck here for over a full day now. He had work tomorrow. Shit. He couldn’t get fired, rent was due soon. What was he going to do?

“When are you gonna let me go?” Dew mumbled, retreating further under the bed, wishing he could fall back asleep.

“Aw,” Anton cooed. “It seems you still don’t understand. You’re not leaving this place, you’re my test subject now. There’s no getting around this, Dew, it’d be much easier if you accepted that.” No way was Dew gonna just throw his life away just because this freak told him to.

“Where are my headphones?”

“Gone. Though you might get to listen to music if you behave.”

“J-Just leave me alone,” Dew gritted through his teeth, snatching the blanket out of Anton’s grasp and curling up even smaller.

“I left you alone all day yesterday, like you asked. But its been long enough, you’ve had plenty of time to process everything. Come on out, Dew, we have to start the day, we have work to do.”

“No. G-Go away.”

“Dew, why are you making everything so hard for me?”

“Because I hate you,” Dew spat.

“You’re my test subject, you’re going to have to learn to do as I say.” The scientist’s voice turned cold and icy, much more demanding, in a way that was terrifying to Dew. “Either come on out from under there willingly, or I’ll inject you with another sedative and drag you out.”

Dew complied silently, because, well, he was scared of Anton. He had been absolutely terrified ever since he woke up in this hell hole, and he knew it’d only get worse from here if he kept not doing what he was told.

Dew stood up and set his blanket on the bed, glaring up at Anton in front of him. Anton tossed the hospital gown at him, and told him to put it on. Dew shook his head, he wasn’t letting this guy force him what to wear, even if he was terrified of what would happen to him.

“Just put it on. You don’t want me to sedate you, do you?”

Dew let out a choked sob at the thought. Anton was terrifying right now. Despite wanting to have some control of what happens to him, his fear of needles overrode all of his rationality. “F-fine. I’ll do it.” Dew clutched the hospital gown in his hands and walked towards the bathroom door, but stopped when he felt a weight on his ankle. Dew looked at the chain, and then glared at Anton, expectantly.

“It’s just a precaution,” Anton stated, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t go into the bathroom and take off my clothes if there’s a chain around my ankle,” Dew hissed, he fought his urge to curse Anton out. That’d probably do more harm than good.

“Oh.” Anton removed the cuff and let Dew go into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

This was it. Fuck, Dew hated this. It’d been who knows how long- maybe over a full day- and he hadn’t taken off his binder. He sure as hell won’t now, being forced to wear this thing. He didn’t know how long he could take it, he knew it was unhealthy, but he did not want to come out to Anton any time soon. He didn’t know anything about him, much less how he’d react to such a thing.

After about ten minutes of complete silence from the room, Anton was beginning to lose his patience in his new test subject. “Dew? What’s taking so long?”

Anton heard a quiet, mumbled response that he couldn’t make out, and Dew exited the bathroom, clutching his clothes to his chest.

“Great, thanks,” Anton said with a hint of annoyance in his voice as he reached for Dew’s clothes.

“W-wait,” Dew flinched away. “What are you doing? These are my clothes!”

“Not anymore.” Anton snatched them from Dew’s arms, cuffed the chain back on Dew’s ankle, and walked out of the room. Just like that, he was alone again.

The hospital gown wasn’t all bad, it could’ve been worse. It didn’t have a weird texture, any loose tags, and he never had a problem wearing dresses or skirts. He much preferred baggy clothes, though, and he knew he should not be wearing his binder for this long. He needed to find a way out of this place soon.

Dew wasn’t alone for long, Anton came back into his room a few minutes later carrying food and some rope. That couldn’t be good.

“I’ll show you around the lab today,” Anton said. “You can ask all the questions that I’m sure have been floating around that pretty little head of yours, and I might even answer some of them. Sound good?” Anton handed Dew the bowl of ramen, and was happy when he started eating it right away this time.

“Um, what’s that for?” Dew asked as he ate, gesturing to the rope in Anton’s hands.

“It’s just a precaution,” Anton said. When Dew was done eating, Anton reached out and took his test subject’s wrists, “for my safety.” Anton tightened his grasp as Dew started to struggle.

“Let go!” Dew exclaimed. Anton glared at him and started tying his wrists together. Dew couldn’t believe how strong this man was, he hadn’t noticed before, but it felt almost superhuman. Dew remembered Anton saying something about conducting some experiments on himself. Dew wondered if he had somehow made himself stronger? Was that possible? The thought that Anton might be superhuman levels of powerful from all his experiments made Dew shudder.

“There we go,” Anton smiled proudly once he was done, ignoring Dew’s grimace as he patted his cheek. The scientist then went to remove the chain attached to Dew’s ankle, and he followed Anton out of the room.

This was the first time Dew had been in the lab, and it was terrifying. He felt exposed, vulnerable and defenseless. Like a mouse in an open field waiting for a bird to fly down and snatch him up. He missed his baggy hoodie. He always liked wearing oversized clothes while hiding in a dark quiet room, it was comforting to him. Now he was completely out in the open, bright lights shining in his eyes and with hardly anything covering him.

He had nothing to protect him, either. Not with his hands tied. Anton could do whatever he wanted to Dew here and he had no way of stopping him.

They walked around for a bit, Anton explaining various strange devices or experiments he was working on. It all felt so surreal, like this was all a bad dream or a weird movie.

“So, new test subject, any questions?” Anton asked, looking down at Dew with a smirk on his face. Dew hated how much smaller he was then this man. And Anton’s stare was incredibly unnerving.

“I…” Dew tried to ignore his crippling nervousness, but he was scared of this place. Everything around him looked like it could kill him instantly, or at least torture him to the point he wished he was dead. He was overwhelmed by it all. “Why am I here?” He whispered, trying to hold back tears.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Dew.” Anton didn’t seem to notice Dew’s obvious distress. “I told you already, a few times now, remember?”

“Y-yeah, but what does being a ‘test subject’ even mean?” Dew asked. Anton smiled down at him, menacingly. “W-what do you want with me?”

“Now that’s a good question!” Anton said, looking oddly excited now. Dew gulped, that couldn’t be a good sign. “There’s a lot of experiments I’ve been needing to conduct that I’ve been unable to do on myself. I don’t want to reveal too much— surprises are fun, you know?— but most of it will consist of testing the limits of how far the human body can change before becoming completely inhuman. I also wanna focus on the key to immortality, but i’m not too worried about that right now. Gotta get you used to what your life’s gonna be like here first, before making it never ending, right?”

Dew stared at his hands bound in front of him. His heart was racing and his thoughts were drifting to terrible places, all while Anton’s unnerving eyes were still on him. As if he was staring directly into his soul.

Dew realized he couldn’t stay here any longer with this freak, and he was going to escape today. He just had to take it slow, plan it out and take a chance while he was still in the lab. Who knew if he’d ever be this unrestrained here again. Even with his hands bound, his legs weren’t. He could still run, he could still use doorknobs.

Dew had to calm his breathing and ignore everything Anton had just told him. If he just distracted himself, got his mind off of his impending doom, he’d figure out a way to escape once he’d calmed down.

“W-What’s all this stuff?” Dew asked, changing the subject, as they walked past a strange shelf. It was full of beakers filled with weird looking liquids and chemicals Dew didn’t know the name of, but he could tell they were dangerous.

“Oh!” Anton hopped excitedly at this, going to the shelf and picking up one of the vials. “These are concoctions I made as an experiment! I made this one just a few months ago, it makes the heart beat acid instead of blood, burning whoever drinks it from the inside out.” Anton reached for another vial, unable to contain his excitement. “And this one is what I’m most proud of, it has sort of a super healing effect. It can make an injury that’s supposed to take months to heal, only last a few days. Isn’t it cool? I’ve used this the most when I used to experiment on myself, it definitely will come in handy for you, too.”

Dew swallowed the lump in his throat, a sense of dread pooling inside of him. He silently nodded his head, looking for something else to change the subject to. Anton followed his gaze to some deadly looking device.

“That’s my mind reading contraption. It reads your thoughts, although it is super painful. Wanna try it out?”

Dew frantically shook his head. He did not feel like having his entire unplanned escape plan exposed to this maniac. Who knew what he would do to him then.

“Suit yourself,” Anton shrugged. Before he could give Dew a chance to say anything— not like he was going to anyway— he walked away from his test subject again to info-dump about more of his dangerous and weird experiments. He didn’t stop grinning the whole time, like Dew was the first person he’d ever talked about his passion to. Dew thought it was weird, like Anton was just talking to a good friend and not someone he kidnapped the day before.

Dew tried to focus on what his captor was saying, as he described various scientific torture devices to him, without bursting into tears. Anton didn’t seem to take notice, going over his collection of shock collars, paralyzing laser guns, and deadly venomous spider robots like it was just a normal day for him.

Anton also didn’t seem to mind Dew being eerily silent the whole time. He probably thought he was just being a polite listener, and not planning any way to escape this place as soon as physically possible.

The times Dew did talk to ask Anton questions about himself, Anton interrupted him and started talking about more science stuff again, completely oblivious to Dew’s ever growing terror, and leaving all his questions unanswered.

“Tell me about yourself, Dew.” Anton asked out of the blue, after explaining in depth about some weird type of poisonous plant he had to keep locked in a cage.

“Um,” Dew looked up at him, surprised. He didn’t feel like talking, but after seeing all that stuff, he did not feel like making Anton angry right now. Any wrong move in front of this man and Dew felt like he’d be the next victim of those weird human eating plants from earlier. “Wh-what do you wanna know?”

“Anything, though your medical records would be useful. Your health history, if you’re on any meds, what you’re allergic to, stuff like that. It’ll all be useful to me later.”

“Oh.” Dew decided he’d talk about the bare minimum, ignoring the fact he’s supposed to take his T shot today. “I’m 22, uh, I don’t think I’m allergic to anything besides peanuts? I have glasses, obviously. I broke my arm when I was six from a trampoline accident… I uh, have anxiety and I’m on meds for that, if you care.”

“Anything else?” Anton kept smiling. He never seemed to stop. It shook Dew to his core.

“Can’t you just like, find my medical records yourself or something? Why are you asking me about this stuff? You know where I live, you kidnapped me, you could get all the information you need if you really wanted to.”

“I want you to tell me yourself, I want you to be able to trust me.” Well that was most definitely not going to happen.

“I won’t trust you, ever. You kidnapped me and- and are telling me you’re gonna experiment on me!” Dew cried. “I don’t wanna be a lab rat, I wanna go home!” Anton sighed. Why wasn’t his test subject listening to him?

“Dew, I told you this already, there’s nothing you can do to get out of this. You’re my test subject now. This is your home now. You’ll never leave, and I’ll never let you go. You’ll learn to accept this one day, hopefully soon. It’d make things much more easier for the both of us, trust me.”

Dew stayed silent as Anton kept showing him around. He couldn’t stop his racing heart, he fought to stop the urge to just run to the exit, but he knew he had to be smart about his escape.

The two of them continued walking while Anton talked more about science nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just told Dew his life was basically over.

As they started walking towards that scary operating table Dew saw from the window yesterday, his heartbeat quickened and he gasped in shallow breaths. No way was he letting Anton strap him down to that thing.

Dew gulped when Anton turned to look at him after he stopped in his tracks. Dew stared wide eyed at the large metal table, covered with different types of restraints and straps, and even claw marks. Dew thought he noticed dried blood on the floor next to it, before his gaze was turned to the tools that were littered atop the tray next to it. Saws, knives, scalpels, and-

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder. Finally, Anton sensed Dew’s fear and terror, and stood in front of him, crouching to his eye level.

“Dew, are you okay?”

“N-no, no.” Dew whispered, chest heaving as he felt himself crumble.

“What’s wrong? Are you scared?”

“Y- yes?” How could anyone not be scared in this situation? Dew didn’t understand this guy, was he playing dumb just to humiliate him?

“Wh— ohh.” Anton followed Dew’s gaze. “That- yeah. That’s the table where I perform all my vivisections. But don’t worry though, I don’t think you’d be any use for that. But I’d get used to the sight if I were you, you’re going to end up restrained to that thing a lot.” Anton chuckled to himself, not seeming to notice- or care- about the tears streaking down his test subject’s face.

“Here, follow me, I’ll show you more of my experiments- so you know what to expect.” Anton grabbed Dew’s wrist as he glared at him, and dragged him in a different direction.

Dew stopped in his tracks. That’s it, he had had enough. There was no way he was going to listen to this mad scientist any longer, he had to get out of here. He ignored the urge to break down crying and quickly wiped his tears, and tried to think. Halfway through one of Anton’s rants earlier, Dew had noticed the scientist’s keys in his lab coat pocket.

“Dew? Come on, I gotta show you—”

“What does this thing do?” He knew the exit was locked, so he had to find a way to get the keys himself. Dew gestured to a small cage with a key hole, housing a weird blob of slime. Anton followed his gaze, and his face once again lit up in delight, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking the cage.

Anton talked about more stuff, mainly the slime monsters he made. Dew wasn’t keeping track anymore, the keys were right there, sitting on the counter next to the open cage. Anton was completely distracted talking to him— or more accurately himself— about his experiment, playing with the blob of living slime in his hands, that he didn’t notice Dew slowly inching closer to the counter. Closer to the keys.

Dew took a deep breath. It was now or never, Anton looked like he was getting bored. He’d change the subject soon, and then his chance to grab the keys would be over.

Dew looked to the shelf behind him, housing some of those vials of acid from earlier. That was a good idea, he needed a distraction, a way to buy him some time. He knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun the scientist just by himself.

Dew took one last look at his captor, still infatuated by one of his own experiments. Then, he elbowed the shelf behind him, knocking off a few vials and spilling chemicals all over Anton and his slime monster, giving Dew time to snatch the keys from the counter.

“Hey!” Anton exclaimed, clearly enraged. Dew stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. He stared at Dew, not processing his slime monster and the rest of the chemicals melting into his lab coat, until he screamed in agony, tearing his intimidating gaze from his test subject.

Then Dew bolted. He ran as fast as he could through the lab, being careful not to trip over anything with his arms still tied. He heard the scientist curse, some things shuffling around, and then his footsteps running after him.

Dew was never much of a fast runner, but he was fueled purely on adrenaline and fear now. This was his only chance to escape.

Dew made it to the exit and frantically turned the knob. As he expected, it was locked. He fumbled through the keys and held one up to the door. It didn’t work, but he kept trying one after the other until the door swung open and he bolted through. He raced up the spiral stairs, hearing the angry calls and footsteps behind him. He realized this lab was probably quite a long way underground, but he didn’t care. He kept running until he reached another door.

His heart pounded, this door was locked too. But only for a moment because this time, the first key Dew tried worked, and he was met with the outside.

He didn’t waste a second, even if it was pouring rain and there was mud all over the grass. Even if he looked to be in the middle of a densely packed forest, with no civilization in sight. Even if he wasn’t wearing any shoes, and his socks got soaked with mud. Even if he was in the middle of fucking nowhere. He still ran, tears flowing down his cheeks in victory and hope.

Though, unfortunately for Dew, he only made it a few yards away before Anton caught up with him. He felt a sharp pang in his neck, and moved his hands up to feel a tranquilizer dart.

His stomach dropped when he realized what that meant. He’d been caught. He didn’t end up running that much farther when he slipped in a mud puddle, drenched in rain and mud.

“Shit!” Dew cried, hope dwindling as he started scrambling away from the footsteps coming closer. Rain poured down on him, blurring his glasses and his eyes filled with tears, making it hard to look for an escape.

He looked around in terror when he realized he didn’t have the strength to get up, and saw Anton slowly approaching him, tranquilizer gun in hand. Dew sobbed uncontrollably, chest heaving as his captor walked closer.

“There you are,” Anton snarled. Dew had never been this afraid in his life. Who knew what this mad scientist would do to him now, with all those torture devices in his lab. “Look at the mess you made.”

Dew cried, curling into himself, too scared to look at Anton, who’s lab coat had chunks of it burned with slime and acid. He didn’t care that his entire body and clothes were covered in mud. He didn’t care that his hair was soaked in his eyes, covering his devastated face with tears streaking down his cheeks.

Dew just wanted to go home.

“P-please, ju-just let me go! Pl-please!”

“No can do,” Anton reached his hand towards his test subject. “Come on, let’s get you back in the lab.”

“Nono no no p-please! Pl-please don’t hurt me! I wanna go home!” Anton ignored his test subject’s desperate pleads and grabbed his ankle, dragging the little thing towards him.

Dew tried to kick out, to struggle, but he was far too weak. He remembered the night he was kidnapped, how familiar this felt. He remembered the tranquilizer dart, and the needles, and everything else Anton could do to him, and he kept crying out, sobbing into the rain, for anyone to help him.

“There’s nobody out here for miles,” Anton said, doing nothing to muffle Dew’s screams. “Save your breath.” Dew took one last look at the dark, clouded sky, knowing it would probably be a long time before he could see it again. And then he was lifted up and sprung over the scientist’s shoulder, carrying him back down to his torment.

. . .

Anton didn’t expect his test subject to attempt an escape so soon, and would surely use this experience to make more precautionary measures to ensure this doesn’t happen again.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but feel bad for the guy. He was struggling to accept his new life, that’s all. Anton knew what that felt like.

Dew was already dozing off once they got to his room. Anton had set him down in a wooden chair and started talking to him, though all Dew heard was muffled sounds accompanied with cloudy vision. He couldn’t make out what his captor was saying to him, or where he was. His eyelids drooped and his body slumped forward, he felt like he was going to fall until he felt hands on his shoulders, and a new injection in his neck.

“Owww—” Dew hissed, looking around the spinning room until his eyes landed on his captor. He was becoming more alert all of a sudden, his eyes going wide in fear when he noticed the syringe Anton was holding.

“Relax, it’s just the antidote for that tranquilizer dart. I don’t think you could hear a word I was saying.”

“Oh.” Dew became acutely aware of the situation he was in again, and brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. This wouldn’t be good. He tried to escape, what was going to happen to him now? “P-Please, I… Please don’t hurt me.”

“Why’d you run?” Anton demanded. He was scary as fuck like this, but Dew lied anyway.

“I…I-I wanted to go outside…?”

“That’s not what you said out there.”

“I…” Dew looked up pleadingly, he surly ruined his chances of escaping any time soon. But he couldn’t accept defeat. “I-I need the sun, and fresh air, y’know? A-And uh, I need exercise. I’m a person, I can’t be cooped up in this room all the time, it’s suffocating.” He hoped his words were convincing, but he doubted it.

“Don’t lie to me, Dew.” Anton said, grabbing Dew’s face and forcing him to make eye contact, nails digging into his skin. “Why did you try to escape?”

“I just— I w-want to g-go home,” Dew couldn’t stop his tears, and he flinched away when Anton’s thumb wiped them away. “I c-can’t take it anymore. M-My friends will be looking for me soon a-and I d-don’t… I just w-want to go home. Please.”

“Dew,” Anton said, voice filled with a sickeningly sweet tone. “What do I have to do to get this through your head? You’re never leaving this place. I’m a scientist, I have ways to make you disappear without a trace, and make sure people don’t even start looking for you to begin with. Forget about home, because this is it now. Hey, don’t look at me like that. It won’t be all bad, I won’t let you die here, you know.”

“But I- please—” Dew whimpered as Anton shushed him.

“No, Dew. There’s nothing you could possibly say or do to make me let you go. Now, go get cleaned up and let me deal with the mess you’ve made. I’ll think of a punishment for your little escape attempt later.”

Dew stared at his captor with hatred and tears in his eyes, but he didn’t want to argue any longer. Anton was still holding the tranquilizer gun, and he was not in the mood to feel another painful sting in his neck. Without saying another word, Dew timidly got out of the rain and mud soaked chair, and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Dew stared in the mirror for a bit, wondering what he did to end up here. It still all felt like a bad dream, though he knew it wasn’t. He was tired and scared, but most of all he was angry. At himself. He couldn’t do something so simple as escape, and now he ruined his chances for the time being.

Dew hoped his roommates noticed he was gone by now. He had been avoiding them lately, too stuck in his own mind with his confusing feelings to talk to them, but they knew Dew wouldn’t just disappear like this. Plus, Dew had always told them whenever he’d be gone and where he was going, it wasn’t like him to just leave. Wherever it was he was trapped, there’d be people looking for him. He knew it. He didn’t believe his captor’s lies, he would get out of here soon. He’d just have to wait here a little longer.

—

Anton’s so cringefail i love him

this chapter took forever to get done because i kept writing ahead to the parts where Things Happen. I’m so excited about this series :))

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long @whump321 @fuckcapitalismasshole

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[lovingmny]

CROSSED FEELINGS

🤎 summary : what happens, when your bestfriend of 7 years finally confesses his love to you?

🐻 pairing : seungmin x fem reader

🧉 warnings : cursing, pet names (like baby, darling etc), lmk if i missed any!

🍂 word count : 1K+ words

🧸 a/n : more seungmin fluff to the world!! if you like this a reblog or commets would be appriciated <3 enjoyy !

m.list

it was a normal sunday morning, the birds were chirping outside and the rays of the sun warmed the room.

you checked the time. it was already 9.56am, so you decided to get out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

you quickly got ready and heard your phone buzz on your table. ’don’t forget we’re going to the beach today’ it read on your phone. it was from your bestfriend, seungmin.

earlier yesterday you two had made plans to go to the beach close to the mall, and after swimming you guys would go on a shopping spree.

you nearly sprinted to your wardrobe, remembering that you had to be in infront of the mall in an hour. you picked out some beige cargos and a brown hoodie and took your headphones. next you put on your platform converse and walked out.

the air was cool. the sun had settled down and wasn’t nearly burning you down anymore, and fall was right around the corner.

you arrived infront of the mall 7mins late, and after hearing seungmin ramble about how you were late, you headed to the beach.

the sand brushed against your shoes, the waves crashing made everything peaceful, until you heard a man yell.

you looked where the yell was coming from and saw 7 other men sitting infront of the sea. it was more of seungmins friends.

you had met them a couple of times, and actually got quite close to leeknow, since seungmin and leeknow are both small little menaces, but inside, they are as soft as dough.

you sat beside seungmin and put your headphones on and started reading a book.

’is she always this boring?’ one of the men asked, you would assume it was hyunjin or han, just by the tone.

’excuse me?’ you fought back in a high pitched voice waiting for an answer.

’ah sorry, nothing. my name’s han btw!’ he said with apologetic eyes, so you let it slide this time.

you rolled your eyes in response, clearly showing that you were uninterested, and didn’t really care. you continued reading for as long as you could, until you were basically dragged to the mall.

the mall wasn’t really crowded, it was 12.45am after all. you followed the others like a lost puppy, not having time to look for things for yourself.

after following them for sometime they finally asked if you wanted anything. you made a beeline towards the library.

you really loved reading, as you learned to read when you were only 4 years old. reading was an escape for you, you felt safe trapped into your fantasies while reading. it make you relax.

whenever you’d have a panic or be stressed, you would start reading. it made you forget the outside world. you loved fantasy books, books that were unrealistic. one if your favourite series was ‘warrior cats’. you loved fantasy, animals and books, so it was perfect.

you walked around the isle for a bit, till you picked out a book and ran to the self-checkout. ‘is that all?’ seungmin asked, as you’d typically get more.

‘yep, i have wanted to read this for very long so i’m gonna get it’ you hummed in response nodding your head up and down.

after you made it out of the library, you guys headed home. you planned that half of the guys would get snacks, and the other would set up a tent in their dorm for a movie night.

you were always down for movie nights, or any type of fun with friends in general.

you opened the tent and started to set in up in the living room with seungmin. you guys had some trouble in the start, but after looking at the directions, you managed to set it up.

now that the tent was done, you went and grabbed all of the blankets in their house. it took three people to carry all the blankets, but after all, 8 men lived in the dorm so there of course had to be many blankets.

the door opened slowly and people started to come in at a fast pace. the entrance was filled with empty shoes and jackets. it felt like home.

everyone sat down on the sofa with the coffee table filled with all types of chips, candy, soda, etc. you were tucked into the blanket and seungmin crawled beside you.

one of your deepest secrets was that you had huge feelings for you bestfriend, seungmin. you guys had known eachother for 7 years, and you didn’t want to ruin your relationship, so you kept it secret for your own good.

seungmins hand snaked around your waist and his other hand got lost in your hand. you wished that he wouldn’t notice how sweaty your palm was, your heart was basically racing. it could pop out any time.

you couldn’t take in anymore. the feelings were too strong. you excused yourself to the restroom, and having a mental breakdown about how much you love him but he doesn’t love you back.

seungmin must have heard your rant because he came knocking to your door after you took quite long.

‘are you alive? the movie started already.’ he asked. he was always so caring, but acted like he was cold. his voice melted your brain and felt like you were on cloud9.

‘uh yes- uhm- i’ll come back in a bit’ you felt embarrassed by how much he was making you stutter, but atleast you could even speak.

you retuned to the living room and dipped next to seungmin.

you couldn’t concentrate on the movie when he was sitting next to you. it felt like a test. but you just couldn’t resist it and accidentally said outloud that ‘you’re so pretty’ while starting him in the eyes.

he turned to you, with a shocked expression. you quickly turned into a tomato and started to explain that it was an accident. he tried reassuring you that was okay, and it worked.

‘babe, don’t worry, i like you too.’ he said. thoughts filled your mind as you were thinking for a response. how tf do you even respond to a confession..?? you thought to yourself.

🍪 a/n : haha this was fun to write!! i‘ll do a part two if you guys ask for it <3 hope you enjoyed!!

[honeybearee]

Sunday Funday

Anna

Saturdays were always the hardest shifts for Anna. Exhaustion followed her from room to room and patient to patient, fought off by endless cups of coffee and the warmth of knowing she'd get to go home to her family when it was all over. Today though, there was an added layer of jitters that settled into her stomach, making her wonder if she would need to up her dosage until Cam left town again.

God, that was going to suck. Maybe she should consider anti-depressants like her last psych had suggested. Losing him again, when it had barely been a year since Dad passed? Ugh, there was that annoying pang in her chest.

Again she found herself almost wishing he'd just come back home and acted as if she hadn't existed - maybe she could have found an excuse to get out of town had she known he was coming. Now that he was here though, and looking at her in that way only he did, she couldn't help but being transported into being the same idealistic silly girl who'd thought that maybe if she hung on long enough he'd realize that she'd never stopped loving him - no matter how many times he'd left her behind.

"You're gonna be late for church" her coworkers voice broke through the noise, making her grin brightly at the other girl, "Right! Time flies when you're having fun" she joked, not realizing that she'd just been staring up at the ceiling in the locker room.

The cool breeze of the early morning had always been her favorite, there was something so peaceful, so profound about being able to share the silence of early morning - and she was thrilled that Beau had been so eager to share something so special with her. It was worth losing all the sleep her body was desperately craving, and he never seemed to mind when she would inevitably end up falling asleep, fishing rod in hand. He would simply place a blanket over her until it was time to go, when he'd gently rouse her and they'd catch up on their week on the drive back home - both expertly dancing around the subject of Cam's return.

The house was always extra quiet when they got back, and had it not been for the smell of fish lingering on her, she would've found herself crashing right into a couch so familiar she was sure there was an indent of her figure in it. "Hey baby" she cooed down at Barker, getting down on her knees to let him get a few good licks in as she petted him, laughing "I'm surprised you're not sleeping with Cam" he perked up at the name, and went off looking for him, tail wagging, "rude" she chuckled as she got back up and went about her usual routine.

It was wonders what a good shower could do to you - her muscles had loosed significantly, and had given her the perfect amount of energy to send her surging headfirst into her usual tasks.

Cam's parents were getting older, a thought she didn't like to linger on, there had already been so much loss in her life - so she had thrown herself headfirst into caring for them, often being the first to arrive and the last to leave. Then again, keeping herself constantly busy gave her the best excuse not to linger on the many thoughts that threatened to drown her if she lingered on them too much. She'd never been really good at sitting still - just in a different way than Cam.

Popping her headphones on, she started up her usual feel good playlist as she danced around the kitchen, quietly singing along as she started working on the first batch of coffee, her hands hesitating on a particular mug, one that had been shelved away many years ago, "oh my God" she chuckled as she looked it over - it was a hideous looking thing, terribly decorated with some badly painted flowers, a stupid crooked heart, a C + A = forever on the side.

She jolted slightly when Mel's familiar hand landed on her shoulder, the woman's sweet feature melting with nostalgia as Anna showed her the mug, a short laugh shared between them. "I didn't even know this was still here," she shook her head, popping her headphones off, and wondering how she'd missed it all the other times.

"Cam found it last night" she looked up from the mug at Anna, giving her a look she'd become painfully familiar with over the years.

"Like on purpose?" Anna laughed, trying to push away from the idea that he'd come home and somehow purposefully dug around for it, "pretty sure he's got nicer mugs than that now," she rolled her eyes, sliding a fresh cup into Mel's hands.

"Maybe they're not the right type of mugs for him" Mel mused in that musical fashion she had of doing when she was trying to hint at something else.

"Yeah, maybe" she replied, forcing a smile at her and fighting the way her stomach flipped.

As if catching the shift, Mel moved toward her again, holding her out by the hands in front of her to get a good look at Anna. "Oh my goodness, I hadn't seen this one yet!" she fawned over the flowers Anna had embroidered on the admittedly much nicer jumpsuit than she'd normally be wearing for family brunch.

"Do you like them? I added a little bee here too, see!" she pointed out the little yellow trail she'd made from the flowers up to the bees that met up with the buttons at the sides.

"You are so talented!" Mel's voice was always pure honey, and it was hard not feel a surge of pride. They had always been so incredibly supportive of her, and maybe it was Cam being home again, or the fact that her Father had been such a present thought on her mind lately, but she found herself wrapping her up tightly "I love you," she simply said, the moment suddenly interrupted by Jesse.

"Oh God, its like right out of a lifetime movie" he faked gagged, as Anna and his wife both smacked him simultaneously, each one picking a shoulder.

"You are such an ass" she laughed, rolling her eyes and sliding a mug toward both of them.

"Oooooh Cam comes back into town, and suddenly Anna's all dressy dressy" he teased in that little brother way that she'd always found both endearing and annoying

"Yeah-well-I have a date later-so" she lied, suddenly growing incredibly preoccupied with what was on the stove, happy to have something that would help her hide just how red his comment had made her turn. Was she really that transparent?

[starpirateee]

Richie's movie

@lautski-week day 3 - movie

Warnings: none / read on AO3 here

--

Richie's movie came out on Sunday. Pete didn't know what it was actually called, but he knew that Richie was really excited about it. Originally, Pete thought it was his attempt to finally step away from the anime scene, but when he asked about it, Richie had launched into a small ramble about the source material, which just so happened to be one of his favourite light novels.

Pete hadn't been all that interested in watching it originally. But Richie wasn't actually here anymore to watch it for himself.

Maybe he owed it to him to try.

But, there was no way he was going alone.

It was late at night on a Friday when he decided that he owed it to Richie to watch this movie, and the thought had consumed him. He couldn't sleep.

Briefly, he thought about texting Ruth. She would like something like that, wouldn't she?

But he couldn't even do that, could he?

Really, there was only one option, wasn't there?

Pete:

Hey, I cant sleep. You still awake?

He stared at the empty text box for what felt like ages, and then finally, he got a reply:

Steph:

im still up sure, something wrong?

Pete:

Not really. Just thinking

Steph:

thats not good at 1am

whats wrong?

Pete:

That movie that Richie wanted to see came out

Pete: 

And I kinda want to watch it in his honour, y'know?

It sounded stupid, didn't it? He wasn't even interested in the movie itself, he just wanted to feel less alone in this crazy world. He turned over, throwing the sheets over his head. 

Pete:

Sorry. I know how stupid that sounds

Steph:

not at all! you wanna go to the movies for richie?

Pete:

I guess... You wanna come with?

Steph:

sure, sounds fun :)

Steph:

is tomorrow good? i can probably see you there if youve got a time

Pete:

Tomorrow's fine

I can get there maybe after lunch? 2 ish?

Steph:

see you there, pete <3

Even after confirming the date with Steph, and feeling a little more at ease with himself, sleep still didn't come easy to him. He spent ages scribbling in his phone's notes, random ideas that my or may not turn into something some day...

Eventually, the tiredness he felt caught up to him, and he drifted off, thinking about Richie and hoping that there was another side where he was having the time of his life. After everything, that was the least he deserved. 

The next day, the tired sensation was promptly replaced with a deep pit of nervousness, and he couldn't source where it had come from. More likely than not, it was down to the constant stream of thoughts that had all surrounded Richie. This was his day, really, and Pete knew he was going to think of that no matter what else happened. 

Steph had been kind enough to offer to keep him company for the day, but by the time she'd agreed to that, it was close to 1:30 in the morning. Was she still going to show face? Would she even remember?

He had a text. He'd been so caught up in his own rampant thoughts that he hadn't even realised.

Steph:

still up for today?

Once he'd read it and really got into his head that yes, she did want to come, his heart fluttered with relief. 

Pete:

Yeah, I'm still gonna be there

Steph:

okay

dont worry about it, its gonna be okay

Pete:

Thanks, Steph :)

Pete sighed. She said it was going to be okay, but was it? Was it really? The two of them had collectively lost more in the last few weeks more than anyone could comprehend in a few years. With the weight of the world quite literally on their shoulders, who was really left but each other? 

That didn't do an awful lot to lessen his nerves, but it did make counting down the remaining hours a bit easier. Slow as it was, that time did pass, and he set on his headphones to start the walk down. He knew he'd invested in such large ones for a reason... At least that way he could look like he was trying to block out the world.

Steph was already there when he arrived, and waved him over. He braced himself for something he didn't even know, and noticed how much less tense he felt, just by seeing her there.

"Hey, Steph..." He removed his headphones with one hand and managed the most sincere smile he could.

She took his free hand and returned the favour by shooting him a smile that seemed totally reassuring. "How are you?"

"Honestly, I kinda feel sick. No idea why, I've just been dreading the hell out of this since I gave myself the idea.." He knew why he felt like shit, if he was really honest. It was his own fault. A constant stream of thoughts that he thought he could solve by airing out his panic in the shower? That was ridiculous, and he knew it.

Her brow creased. "Why?"

"I don't know! I mean, it's got nothing to do with you, you're great! I love-" he hesitated so subtly that Steph almost didn't notice. "Hanging out with you... I just- I guess it's cos this was supposed to be Richie's movie..."

"Hey, I get it. We don't have to do this if you don't want to..."

"This is for him. I wanna do this... For him."

Steph nodded. "Alright. Which one is it?"

The two of them looked up at the board, and Pete tried to figure out which was the right movie. There were a lot of titles he recognised, and then...

"That one. I remember the name of the book Richie told me about."

"Absolutely no offense to the guy, but that looks like it's gonna be cheesy as shit."

Pete couldn't help but laugh at that. She was right, in all fairness, it did look like it was going to be quite the movie.

[cloudlessly-light]

Find me where the wild things are (2/5)

A/N: Chapter 2 of @sapphoe-sun Cancer month celebration!

Chapter title: Dream each night of some version of you Summary: Emily is just shy of 18 when she meets her mother’s new boyfriend, Aaron Hotchner. He’s 30 years older, he’s brooding, he’s kind of boring, he’s gorgeous. And she was screwed Word Count: 3,6k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, oral, dirty talk, daddy kink, daddy issues galore

 (I am aware that this is NOT everyone's thing so if it's not, please don't read it, this is the only warning I'll give!)

It was hot, almost unbearably so and Emily had decided to spend her Sunday at the pool. She had music turned up loud, her skin was shining from the lotion and she sighed happily to herself, today was perfect. And it seemed to get even better, she realized as she shifted on the tanning bed, turning onto her back to take a sip of cold water when she saw Aaron walking out on the patio, heading her way.

“Lower the music or use your headphones.” He looked at her, clearly irritated by the loud music close to blaring through the speakers.

Nice greeting, she thought and rolled her eyes.

“There’s no one in the house, I didn’t think you were home.” She still lowered the volume as she peered up at him from behind her sunglasses. She looked at him up and down, taking in the shorts and polo shirt, it was by far the most relaxed she’d ever seen him, it was nice to know that he wasn’t always so stiff.

“It’s Sunday.” He said, like that was explanation enough, like he wasn’t gone most weekends. But Emily still nodded. She leaned back in the sunchair, her eyes slowly drifting over his form as he towered over her.

“I’ll keep the music down.” She agreed softly, acting demure when she was anything but. “Are you joining me in the pool?” The way he stiffened had her biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smirking.

“No.” He looked at her, forced his eyes to stay on her face even as her purple bikini was literally hiding nothing off her body. She had been flirting relentlessly, had been driving him crazy and he knew that he should tell her to stop, that it was wrong on so many levels. But then she would widen her eyes and lick over her bottom lip and he found that instead of telling her to stop, he wondered what her bottom lip tasted between both of his.  

“In that case, care to help me out?” She broke him out of his thoughts and turned around and then took off her sunglasses. “I can’t reach my back.” She motioned for the sunscreen beside her on the table.

“I don’t think that’s wise.” His gaze drifted to her plump ass cheeks; he had forgotten just how perky things sat on a 20 year old.

“Oh come on, you don’t want me to burn do you?” She arched an eyebrow but he still stood firmly planted beside her. “Fine, guess I’ll get skin cancer then.”

He scoffed at her dramatics but it had the desired effect and he took the sunscreen from the table. He squirted some on his palm and started to bend down to put the lotion on when she untied the thin straps in the back and he stopped.

“Emily.” He warned, his voice lower, his breath caught in his chest.

“Just making sure that you’re getting it evenly spread everywhere.” She smiled at him over her shoulder, the picture of innocence if her eyes hadn’t darkened significantly, pupils blown wide.

He knew that it was a blatant lie, that she was just doing it to push his buttons and he hated that it was working. But he still bent lower, his hand connecting with her soft skin as he rubbed the lotion into her back. Her skin was warm from the sun, she smelled like chlorine from the pool and Emily and he forced himself not to linger longer than he had to as he inspected the skin of her back, the freckles on a shoulder blade, a birthmark on the small of her back, a tattoo on her ribs that he was sure her mother didn’t know about.

Emily bit back a low moan as his rough fingers trailed over her back but she knew that he could see the goosebumps he created as he rubbed soothing circles along her spine.

“All done.” He said all too soon and she craned her neck to look up at him, her lips parted, a flush on her cheeks and he felt the want stirring inside of him, wondering what she would look like all fucked out, if his touch did this to her.

“Thank you.” She breathed, her voice husky.

“I’ll be in my office for most of the day.” He stood back up, needing to create some space between them. “Don’t stay out here too long.”

“Aaron?” Her soft voice stopped him and he turned back to her. “Mind tying my top?” She gestured to the loose strings with a filthy grin and he swallowed down the groan on his tongue.

Wordlessly he tied the top behind her back, feeling his patience with her behavior waning. He knew that she thought she had him wrapped around her finger, but she had no idea how wrong she was.

“Careful Emily,” He whispered against her ear, his voice low “wouldn’t want you to get in over your head.”

“I could say the same about you.” She tried to shoot back at him, but her voice was shaking, her breathing shallow.

“Don’t play with fire, little girl, unless you want to get burned.” He leaves her there jaw slacked and staring after him.

She had never heard him talk that way, had never heard his voice like that, almost a purr in the rumbling of his chest. And she was more curious than ever.

 She thinks she should get some kind of reward that she didn’t follow him right after the pool, she could feel her clit throbbing for him, could feel the dull ache of arousal in every nerve ending of her body. She had been home for only a few weeks, she knew that she should stay as far away from Aaron as possible, but she found that she couldn’t help herself, the moment she saw him the attraction she had felt towards him from the start seemed to boil over into immediate want.

So she tries to distract herself, goes out to meet JJ, one of her oldest friends who coincidentally was also home in DC for the summer.

“Excuse me, you want to what?!” The blonde asked as she slammed the drink of front of her down on the table in between them.

“I- I think I want to fuck him.” She said as she toned down her feelings, didn’t tell her that there was no thinking, only wanting, in her mind. “It’s not like he’s my actual dad or anything!” She defended while her cheeks tinted pink at the way JJ laughed at her.

“Well thank God for that!” She grinned and swallowed down more of her drink. “Emily, he’s old, and married to your mother!”

“Are you seriously saying you don’t find him attractive?” Emily raised her eyebrow when it was JJ’s turn to blush, wordlessly confirming what Emily already knew. “And I know he’s married but…”

“But?” JJ probed when she trailed off.

“But I don’t care, it would be a one-time thing, get it out of my system and then I’ll go back to school. Besides, I barely see them anyways!” She tried to defend herself but knew from the way JJ scoffed that it was as insane as she already knew it was.

“Emily, this is crazy!” JJ downed the rest of her drink and quickly flagged down a waitress for new ones.

“I know, I know.” She rubbed her temples tiredly and then copied the blonde and finished the martini just as a new one was placed in front of her. “But if he’s into it, I’m doing it.”

“Careful, your daddy issues are showing.” She teased just as Derek and Penelope walked through the door and she waved them over. “But I want to hear everything that happens next.” She says it quickly, just barely finishing the sentence before their friends arrive and Emily nods.

 When she comes home it’s late and she carefully slips off her heels to keep from making any noise as she starts to make her way to her bedroom. It doesn’t matter though, his voice rumbles through the foyer, making her stop in her tracks.

“Where have you been?” Aaron walks towards her with determined steps. He had waited up for her for hours, couldn’t go to bed before he knew that she was home, something inside of him unable to relax.

“Out.” She huffs and it irritates him that she has so little regard for others.

“Where?” He doesn’t miss the way she pushes her shoulders back, clearly getting ready to argue with him. “Never mind it doesn’t matter, but I will not have you going in and out of all hours of the night, is that clear?”

“Oh come on,” She chuckles, the sound dry and sarcastic and it only seems to make him more annoyed with her. “You can’t come in here and change the way I’ve been living my life for the last 20 years.” She chuckles again and heads up the stairs, shoes dangling from one hand.

He follows her, his footsteps heavy but fast and it’s only seconds before he’s right behind her.

“I’m not a child Aaron.” She throws over her shoulder as she gets to the top of the stairs and she then she feels it, his large hand around her wrist, making her shoes fall to the floor. She doesn’t get the chance to react, his movements fast as he tugs her, and then turns her until her back hits the wall, not hard, but enough for her to gasp.

“Then why are you acting like a spoilt brat?” He rumbles as he holds her against the wall, one hand on her hip and the other still holding onto her wrist, pressing it against the wall. He’s so close she feels his breath against her face, smells his cologne and she knows that he can see the flush on her cheeks.

“Just cause you married my mom does not make you my dad.” She clenches her jaw and swallows and she’s sure he’s enjoying this, his eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

  “Considering the way you’re lusting after me, I’d say that’s a good thing.” He breathes and she feels the air get trapped in her lungs. He had said it, had acknowledged what he had danced around for weeks. He leaned in close to whisper against her ear, “You weren’t subtle before you moved away and the way you’ve been relentlessly flirting have been close to pathetic.” When he pulls away to look at her his face is smug, a snide grin on his lips and she finds herself wetting her own with her tongue.

Emily just stares at him, eyes wide as she tries to process everything while the arousal that rushes through her is close to deafening. Her free hand lifted to his chest, careful and slow to see how he’d react.

“It’s not like you haven’t been thinking the same thing.” She finally says and his eyes flash with something close to wild and he pins both of her wrists above her head. “You think you can come here and tell me what to do, set rules that I’ve never had before, it’s like you want me to call you daddy.”

Aaron growls, his mind hazy as he stares down at her, this young woman that seemed determined to get under his skin. He knew that he had already crossed the line, that this was inappropriate and wrong and everything he should not do, but Emily had been teasing him for weeks, had driven him close to madness already and it seemed like the moment he touched her, every reason he had tried to tell himself vanished.

She looked at him curiously, felt his hand tighten and saw the way he swallowed harder as he stared at her with dark eyes clouded over by nothing short of desire. He was enjoying this, he liked what she had just said, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it yet.

“Is that what you want, Aaron?” She whispered and his body pressed into her in response. Emily loved it, loved the power she felt as he seemed lost in her. “You want me to call you daddy? Want to take care of me?”

He snaps, it’s the only way he can describe it as he kisses her roughly, his tongue pressing against hers. It’s messy, his lips dominating and she whimpers the sound soft and needy and Aaron was sure that there was no way he could stop now, not when she made pretty little noises like that.

Emily arched into his body, gripped his short hair in a fist the moment he let go of her wrists and the other wasted no time trying to get his sweats down his hips but he bats her hand away. His hands were huge, she thought as he wrapped them around her waist to pull her into him. Then he pulled away, pushed her back against the wall and she could see the question in his eyes.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” She promised and it seemed to be enough for him because he nodded and then pulled her with him towards her room.

“One-time thing.” He growled against her lips once the door was closed and he was pushing her backwards towards the bed roughly.

“Just one time.” She agreed, her voice so thick with want she barely recognized it. His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back as his lips trailed along her jaw, sucking and nipping hard enough to make her hiss slightly. Then he pulled away again, only to pull her top off, leaving her in a skirt and bra and he looked at her appreciatively before kissing her again, his hand wrapping around her neck to keep her close.

“You think you can handle me Emily? Want to know how a real man takes care if little brats like you?” He spat the words in her face, low and taunting and he heard her moan as she nodded quickly.

“Show me.” Later, Emily would deny the whine in her voice, would deny just how quickly he had turned the tables on her. But right now she couldn’t care less, his touch was addictive.

Aaron wasn’t sure what kind of deep-rooted side of him that she had somehow unlocked, all he was sure of was that his entire body was buzzing with a need to claim, a need to have. His thumb pressed against the hollow of her throat, he felt her pulse under his fingers, fluttering wildly. Her hands were gripping at him, wanting him closer, wanting more and he felt a sense of pride that they had barely done more than kiss and she was already desperate for him.

“Get on your knees.” He growled against her lips and he barely contained his smirk when she immediately sunk to her knees before him. He pushed some hair out of her face as he took in the way she sat there, skirt pulled up high enough on her thighs that he got a glimpse of the baby blue thong, a matching bra that contained her full breasts, heaving slightly from her labored breathing, to her dark eyes, wide and filled with lust as she licked over her bottom lip, tasting his lips on her tongue.

Emily watched as he slowly pulled his shirt off, revealing his broad chest to her and she clenched her thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure between her legs. When she reached for his sweats again her hands were trembling with adrenaline and want and she waited until he nodded before pulling both his pants and boxers down his legs. She gasped as he stood before her, his cock hard and swollen already, looking huge and she found herself salivating.

“You want it?” He asked smugly as he stroked his cock in his hand, keeping her away from him by a firm grip on her hair.

“Yes.” She breathed, squirming from the way the way her underwear soaked through just by looking at him.

“Good girls ask, they don’t take.” He mumbled and Emily felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment and arousal. “Ask for what you want, Emily.”

“Can I suck your cock?” She looked up at with big eyes, something close to a pout on her face and he grinned as he let go of her hair.

“Yes, get me off.” The words were barely out before she wrapped her lips around him, her tongue licking the slit to collect the bead of precum already there. He groaned at her wet mouth, taking more and more of him until she was gagging and she started to bop her head, her tongue drawing lazy patterns all over the underside of his shaft.

Emily hummed when his fingers were back in her hair, massaging her scalp slightly and tugging her hair, not hard, but enough for her to move with his hand. She moaned around him when he started to push against her face, forcing the entire length of him down her throat and when she pulled back gasping from breath he grunted something resembling her name. She wrapped her hand around the base of him, twisted her wrist as she licked the tip, teasing him for a moment before sucking him against, focusing on the sensitive head as her hand jerked him.

“So good.” He groaned as he watched her, his muscles twitching slightly from the pleasure. He looked down at her face, eyes slightly glassy from when she had gagged on him, saliva dripping down her chin, she was a mess, nothing like he’d normally see her and the fact that she was a mess for him made something similar to pride flutter in his belly. “Look at you, being such a good girl for me.”

Emily flushed at the praise, her mouth working even faster around him in response. She knew that he was getting close, his hips buckling into her mouth, his hand flexing in her hair, groans and moans leaving him and it only made her want it more.

“Come in my mouth.” She pulled back enough to gasp out, her hand jerking his cock in her fist even faster. “I want to taste you, please daddy.”

Again he felt an overwhelming rush of lust when the word rolled of her tongue and he pulled her back onto his cock with a deep grunt. He fucked her face, dragged his shaft along her tongue and sucked in a breath when she swallowed around him.

“You want my cum?” He mumbled quietly, not even sure if she was able to hear him from the way she was choking and drooling all over him. “Gonna cum in every hole you got.” He whispered, he knew that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing, knew that he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her and if she was willing to continue whatever this was between them, he was more than happy too as well.

Emily nodded wordlessly, her mouth too full of him to speak. She moaned in agreement and Aaron hissed at the vibrations of her throat around his shaft. When he came it was with a punched-out sound, a breathless groan of her name as he spurted thick streams of cum onto her tongue. She swallowed all of it, jerked him and continued to suck his cockhead until he was empty and overstimulated and pushed her away with a gasped chuckle.

“Fuck, you’re good at that.” He pulled her up roughly and kissed her, licking the taste of himself off her tongue.

Emily felt her knees tremble from the maddening want she felt for him, wasn’t sure if she could stand him not touching her for much longer. And then he broke the kiss and bent to pull his boxers and sweats back up.

“Well, good night Emily.” He smirked at the way her jaw dropped. “Good things come to those who wait… Don’t you think?”

“What, no!” She tried to reach for him but he simply gripped her wrists in his hands, keeping her away from him. “That’s not fair.” She argued.

“I have some news for you, sweetheart. Life isn’t always fair.” He chuckled as she visibly deflated, he could see just how badly she needed him. “If you’re good maybe you’ll get a reward tomorrow.” He winked just before letting her go, pushing just enough for her to land on the edge of her bed, skirt pulled up above her hips, a wet spot clearly visible on her underwear.

“I- I, this is- Aaron fuck, please.” She tripped over her words and he laughed at her, causing her already heated skin to flush even deeper.

“Good night Emily.” He turned, still laughing at her desperation, leaving her to wonder when the tables had turned so drastically.

Emily stared after him for another few moments, unsure what had just happened, how she ended up getting what she had been wanting and yet being more wound up than she’d ever been before. With a trembling hand she reached for his shirt, her other hand moved into her own underwear. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that it was his hand, the smell of him lingering on his shirt as she tried to get rid of the intense want but she knew that the only way to get rid of it, would be him.