#(yes these are basically just my same tags from the other night but i wanted to make it its own post) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dancingtotuyo · 7 days

Text

High Infidelity Part IV

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature Explicit

Summary: Joel goes on a date.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: pining, jealousy, masturbation (male and female), voyeurism, self loathing, emotional affair, boundaries crossed

Notes: Things are getting a little spicy hehe. As usual, shout out to my beta readers @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (special shout out to Ang for the ✨spicy✨ idea 😜) and @saradika-graphics for the dividers!

Words: 4818

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

When Joel asks you to watch Sarah on Friday night, you don’t hesitate to say yes. Then, two minutes later you call him back and ask why. You’re surprised when he tells you he has a date. You should tease him, nag for details, but it’s none of your business. You find yourself wanting to know everything and nothing.

Joel is a grown-ass man. A single man at that, but it nags at you. Who is she? Where did he meet her? The two of you spend most of your free time together. In the six years you’ve known Joel, you can’t remember him ever mentioning a woman.

His sole focus has always been Sarah. You suppose Tommy is on that list too, and Nathaniel. The two of you have matching worry lines thanks to your husband, and you guess by default you’re on the list too. If there’s one thing Joel Miller is committed to, it’s family.

Joel comes down in dark-wash jeans and a simple button-down. You didn’t know he owns jeans that nice, hugging his thighs, leather belt cinched at his waist. Your eyes rake over him perhaps a moment longer than needed. He hadn’t looked that nice at your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding.

You raise an eyebrow letting out a low whistle as he enters the kitchen. “Lucky lady.” You take a bite from your apple slice. You point the paring knife at his jeans. “Those new?”

Joel knits his eyebrows together. “No. Why?”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“You keep tabs on my closet?”

“We’ve basically lived together for 3 years. You wear the same two pairs of work jeans and five ratty T-shirts in rotation. I wouldn’t be surprised if your shirts have the days of the week labeled on the inside.”

“Church clothes.”

You scowl. “We don’t go to church.”

“Speak for yourself, Darlin.” He chuckles, checking his watch, the one you gave him for Father’s Day. You shoot him a suspicious look. “The kids out back?”

“Yup.” You say, taking another bite of apple.

Joel’s fingertips brush across your shoulders as he passes by, the warmth of his cologne fills your nostrils as he rushes out. A pit settles deep in your stomach. You’re not sure where it stems from, but you don’t like it. You feel uneasy.

The back door shuts just as a tap on the front door echoes through the house. You sigh, not really wanting to answer it. The pit grows and you still don’t understand where it’s coming from. Sarah and Nathaniel’s muted laughter filters through as you open the door.

She’s pretty you think. Not someone you consider to be a show-stopper, but exactly what you would picture Joel going for. There’s something almost familiar about her. She looks taken aback when you open the door. You plaster your well-practiced Southern hospitality smile on your face.

“I’m Joel’s sister-in-law. Just here to watch the kids.” You hold out your hand. Relief floods her features.

“Tracy.” She takes your hand.

“Nice to meet you.” You can’t shake the nagging air of familiarity about her. It itches your brain, hanging on the tip of your tongue. Have you seen her at parent pick-up before? “Joel should be back soon. He’s just saying goodnight.”

Tracy nods, clutch held tight in both hands. Maybe it makes you an asshole, but you don’t invite her in, forcing her to stand at the threshold of an open door. She wears a solid dress. Her makeup is tasteful and leagues ahead of anything you’d ever be able to pull off, especially with a rowdy toddler.

For a second you miss it. The freedom that is. You wouldn’t give up Nathaniel for the world. Hell, you wouldn’t give up Tommy for the world even with the shit you’re going through, but the ability to go out at a moment’s notice and let the alcohol loosen your inhibitions, you miss that. Tracy couldn’t be much older than you. Maybe a year or two. Did you go to high school together? Is that why she looks familiar?

There’d been a couple Tracys in your small high school, but none that look like her.

“You have a son, right?” Tracy says. You nod. She smiles as if proud of herself for remembering the fact. “Joel mentioned that you two do a lot together- with his brother being in prison.”

“Yeah, we do.” Your shoulders stiffen and your smile tightens. So this wasn’t their first date. They knew each other well enough for Joel to divulge your business like it was front-page news. Though, you suppose it had made the paper.

“Well, I got them both riled up for ya,” Joel says, walking through the house. He plays with the cuffs of his shirt before looking up. He seems startled to find the door wide open and Tracy on the other side. “Oh- Hi.”

“Hi,” Tracy laughs.

He looks between the two of you like he’s seen a ghost. You cross your arms, a faint smirk playing across your lips. “Just remember payback’s a bitch.”

“Yeah... I don’t doubt it.” Joel almost mutters it under his breath. He joins Tracy on the other side of the threshold, pressing a distracted kiss to her cheek. “You ready to go?”

You catch the weirdness of Joel’s demeanor, familiar with all of his tendencies by now. You raise an eyebrow in question, but Joel won’t look you in the eye. His arm wraps around Tracy’s waist, pushing her toward his pickup.

“Make yourself at home.” Joel throws his hand up in a wave despite his back being turned to you.

“Always do!” You call back.

You watch them until the truck is out of the driveway, confusion written across your face as you process the odd interaction. Why was Joel acting so weird- like you weren’t supposed to meet the mysterious lady he’d obviously been out with more than once, and why hadn’t he told you yet? And why did she look so damn familiar?

The moment the door clicks behind you, it hits. You freeze. The familiarity in her face is one you see every time you look in the mirror. She’s not your twin by any means, but Tracy could be your cousin, your sister even. Something you can’t place settles in your gut.

The kids are finally asleep. The TV drones on, but you don’t hear a sound of it. The whole interaction plays on repeat in your mind. You chew on your thumbnail. You can’t stop thinking about them, where they are, and what they might be doing.

You glance down at your watch. 10:30. You don’t typically go to bed this early, and you’re not tired, but you can’t get it off your mind. Sleep is your only option for relief.

Checking on the kids, you slip into Joel’s room. You’ve stayed in here more times than you can count as Joel always insists you stay in his bed. It’s automatic how you pull one of his shirts from the drawer. Not one of his five shitty work shirts but one of the well-worn ones he wears on the weekend after he showers. They’re soft. They smell like him, sawdust and old spice, not the cologne you caught on him this evening. You slip under the cool sheets, stretching out your bare legs and burying your face in his pillow. You’re surrounded by him here.

You thought it would turn off the thoughts, silence your mind, but it doesn’t. If anything they ramp up. You know there’s no way Joel’s had her here. He wouldn’t bring a strange woman into his home, Sarah’s home, that quickly. No, it’s all him in here… and you.

It’s just after eleven. You’re not asleep. Joel’s not home and your mind is running through the memories as it often does when you lay alone. You’ve spent more nights alone than with someone since you got married. You should be used to it, but you’re not. There should be someone next to you right now.

Tossing and turning, an idea sparks in your mind. There’s one surefire way to get yourself to sleep. The mere thought sets desire through your veins. Goosebumps prickle your flesh. Your nipples perk up under Joel’s soft shirt. It’s been a while since you’ve touched yourself.

Kicking the blankets off of you, you let your fingers skim over your bare thighs, moving them upward until your shirt is tucked under your breasts. Joel’s shirt. It has you pausing. This crosses so many lines. You can’t do this here, in your brother-in-law’s bed, in Joel’s bed where it smells like him. Where it feels like him.

Your cunt clenches and a soft groan escaped from your lips. You’ve barely touched yourself, not enough for that response. Your heart rate refuses to calm down, the flame of desire already spreading from deep in your stomach. You shouldn’t do this, not here, but your fingers trace up and over your sternum again, slipping under Joel’s shirt. You brush your thumb over the hardened buds. You’ll change the sheets tomorrow. He’ll never know.

A soft moan tumbles over your lips. Your body moves of its own volition, pressing into your touch. Your hands move down and across your skin. You run them over your favorite places to be touched, everywhere except where you want to be touched the most. You avoid it, waiting until your panties start to cling to you, excess moisture soaking into them. A finger runs over the seam of your lower lips. Another moan falls from your mouth, hips bucking up.

You push down your panties, flinging them off once they hit your ankles. Your fingers slip between your folds. You’re slick, spreading it up and down, over and around your clit as need builds in your body. Another moan threatens to fall from your mouth, each one growing in volume. You bite down on the collar of Joel’s shirt. Another whiff of him overtakes you. Your cunt clenches as you finally slip a finger in and then a second.

The house is dark when Joel gets back. He feels like a dick. He’d been distracted the whole time. He saw it the moment he spotted the two of you together- the resemblance. He felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner, and even more when he couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole night. There’s nothing wrong with Tracy. She’s perfectly nice, but the bubble has popped. She’s not you. He won’t be seeing her again.

It doesn’t help that he knew he’d come home to a dark house. He knows you’re asleep in his bed right now in one of his shirts, and Lord help him, it kept him distracted all night.

He’s quiet as he walks up the stairs so as to not wake you or the kids. He stares at his bedroom door, taunting him. You’re in there and he knows what you feel like sound asleep in his arms. You haven’t talked that night. In fact, you’ve acted like it never happened and he’s followed suit. He wonders if he could slip behind you now. If you would let him hold you.

He lets out a long sigh, fighting with himself. He needs to slip in, grab a pair of sweats, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to pull himself out. He can sleep in his boxers, maybe find some sweats in the laundry. His hand drops from the door.

He’s going to walk away. He’s not going to cross that line again. That’s his brother’s wife. The woman Tommy told him to take care of. He has to stop this. He can’t- and then he hears it. Soft and quiet at first. A soft gasp that hitches, like it got caught on something.

He freezes. It’s probably nothing, a dream, his imagination. Then he hears it again, this time pitched lower, like it comes from a deeper place. He can’t discount that one. As much as his brain screams at him to go, run, his feet stay anchored to the floor. He’s desperate to hear it again, and he’s rewarded with another moan.

They’re intentional. You’re doing that to yourself in his bed. He bites his lip, hand falling to the door frame to stabilize him. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be envisioning you spread out on his bed, toes curling against his sheets. The blood rushes straight to his cock and Joel knows he’s about to cross a line he can’t come back from.

Another moan comes out of the room. He flips open the button of his jeans, hand slipping beneath the waistband stroking his already hard cock. Maybe it makes him a creep, but he’s never been more grateful for the thin walls in the house.

Your noises of pleasure grow. Joel bites back his own, nails digging into the door frame. Precum leaks from the tip of his dick. He catches the way your moans grow more desperate as you take yourself closer. He works himself to the edge with you, wanting to hold off until you’re there.

You’re so close to falling over the edge. Your fingers glide over your clit with ease, soaked with your slick. You’ve been pushing the images away the whole time, trying not to go there, but the closer you pull yourself to bliss, the harder it is to keep them at bay. Your eyes drift shut as you lean into the feeling, willing yourself over the edge. They flash in your mind, pictures of him over you, calloused hands running over your bare body, his deep baritone in your ear as he pulls you apart. The tension between your thighs breaks free. You don’t realize how loud you cry out, ears ringing with pleasure as his name effortlessly rolls off your lips.

You lay there, still, chest heaving. Not Tommy’s name. Joel’s.

Before you have time to comprehend what just happened, it breaks through the silence. A soft, bitten back moan on the other side of the door in a tone you can only recognize as his and the faint whispers of your name. Your eyes widen. Had he…?

Your brain races with the possibilities as you lay bare, tshirt pushed above your breasts. He could walk in. You hadn’t locked the door. You could open the door to him, take his hand, invite him into his own bed.

You cringe. When did you become this person? The one who lusts after another man while married? As much as you’re ashamed, you fight against the temptation. You want to give in. You want to be touched and desired again. You’d seen it in Joel’s eyes that night at the beach. He would give you what you needed. Before you can make a decision, you hear the steps creak. He’s walked away.

You let out a deep breath, not sure if you’re disappointed or relieved. You roll over, burying your head in Joel pillow, wrapping yourself in his comforter, cunt still slick and dripping.

Lucky for Joel, he’s able to find clean sweats in the dryer and then starts the washer with his jeans and boxers, washing away all evidence of his sins.

He settles on the couch with just the decorative pillow and throw blanket. It’s hot anyway so the blanket is quickly kicked to his feet. He can’t put it out of his mind. Any of it. You.

He tries not to think about the sounds you made in his bed, the things you did. He tries not to think about you asleep in his arms, but with all things, the more you try not to think about them, the more you do.

Joel has accepted that he’s not a good man. His intentions with you are no longer pure, but self seeking. Yes, he cares for you and your well being, but he wants you. He needs you near him. He needs you to realize he’s been here through it all. That Tommy has done nothing to be worthy of you. Joel has spent more of your marriage being your husband than Tommy has.

He clenches his fists. Anger surges through him. Joel doesn’t care if it makes him a bad person. If he had a way to go and turn back time, he would. He’d find a way to meet you before Tommy did. He would make you his. He would save you from the heartache of being Tommy’s wife. You would be his Mrs. Miller.

Joel wishes he’d kissed you at the beach. He wanted to. God knows how badly he’d wanted to. It took every last ounce of self control not to. His stores are depleted. Between that and tonight, Joel has no more restraint to offer this situation. If you ever give him the chance again, he won’t hold back. He doesn’t care that you’re married to his brother. You deserve better. You deserve the world. Joel believes he can give it to you.

You both sleep better than you have in weeks.

“I never understood back to school nights,” Joel grumbles, stuffing a store bought chocolate chip cookie in his mouth and washing it down with cheap faculty room coffee. “Want some?”

“You know I don’t drink caffeine after two.”

Joel shrugs, taking another sip. “It’s not that good anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “What about back to school nights makes you grumpy? It’s a chance for Sarah to see where she’ll spend most of her time for the next nine months.”

“Then where is she?” Joel raises an eyebrow. “Out on the playground because it only takes 5 seconds to see the classroom and she’d rather play with her friends.”

“You’re a grump.”

“Yeah, a grump who’d rather be watching the game.”

You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder. “Have you at least talked to her teacher yet?”

He grimaces. “Haven’t worked up the courage yet.”

It isn’t that Joel doesn’t want to know the person responsible for educating his child. It’s the fact that Sarah has a knack for ending up with the young, single teachers as her educators, ones who seem very interested in her father as more than a parent. He’d been granted reprieve last year, but you’d caught the visible shudder in his frame the moment he’d laid eyes on Sarah’s teacher for the year, young and not a ring on her left hand in sight.

“Stop judging a book by its cover. You’re a grown up.”

“Fine.” He sets down his coffee with determination. “Let’s go.” His hand finds your waist as he propels you both toward the teacher.

“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows knit together. You have a sneaking suspicion you know what he’s playing at.

“We’re going to meet Sarah’s teacher.” He shrugs, but a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Mrs. Miller.”

Your stomach does little flips. You’ve been mistaken for his Mrs. Miller more times than you can count at this point. You’ve attended Sarah’s parent teacher conferences when Joel got held up at a job sight, letting the teachers assume whatever they wanted. You are Mrs. Miller after all. But you’ve never done anything like this, not alongside him.

He introduces himself and you to Miss Holly as he tugs you in closer to his right side. Your left arm instinctively wraps around his middle and you see the moment she watches the glint of your engagement and wedding ring under the fluorescent lights.

It’s hardly the first time you’ve been mistaken for Joel Miller’s wife, but it is the first time he’s played into the assumption on purpose, with confidence. It’s the first time you let your mind forget it’s not true, even for just a few seconds, playing a part that doesn’t feel like playing at all. Joel lets his southern charm show now, protected by the guise of you as his bride. Before you know it, it feels too natural. Joel’s hand falls a bit, grasping your hip, tugging you closer like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You think maybe it is.

Joel leads the conversation. You’re too caught up in the feel of his hand on your hip and the breathing of his chest under your palm. The night you almost kissed, the night you crawled into his bed and he held you through some of the best sleep you’ve gotten in years flashes in your mind. You think back to just last week, his name on your lips, that strangled, soft moan, and your own name you swear you heard.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Miller,” Sarah’s teacher says, pulling you from your thoughts.

Joel offers his own goodbyes and you echo them, still fighting the haze inside your own mind. You wonder if there’s a world where this is your life, one where you and Joel aren’t playing make believe. One where you crawl in bed beside him every night instead of your empty bed. It’s an awful thought. Your husband gets released from prison in a few weeks. These thoughts will be gone by then. They have to be.

It was one night of indiscretion, two at the most, and you never actually did anything. You didn’t know Joel was on the other side of that door. Tommy doesn’t need to know. By his own admission, he’s actually crossed those boundaries. He’s broken your wedding vows. You glance at Joel’s profile as he leads you out of the classroom, a proud smirk on his face. The bastard enjoyed that way too much.

When you make it to the hall, his fingers lace through yours. Is he forgetting too? Giving himself a moment to linger in the unspoken what ifs that seem to crowd around you these days.

He drops your hand once you’re outside in view of the playground. He waves Sarah over, but you stay a couple steps behind, deep in thought until someone calls your name. Your head snaps in their direction. Julia and Micky Hall stand before you. Your eyes widen in recognition. Micky was one of Tommy’s Army buddies. They’d moved to Dallas after the group came back from their deployment.

“Hi,” the words fall from your mouth in shock. “I didn’t know y’all were back in Austin.” Your feet carry you toward the couple.

“Just moved back last month,” Julia says as you move to hug her and then Micky. “We’ve been meaning to call.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just good to see you both.” The smile across your face is genuine as you talk to your friends. You’d grown apart since their move. Other than Joel, Julia had been your closest friend during Tommy’s deployment. “How have you been? The boys?”

“Starting first grade,” Julia grins, pointing to her twin boys on the playground.

Your eyes catch them, running around. “They’ve grown so much.”

“How’s Nathaniel?” Julia asks.

“Good, growing like a weed as I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Too familiar,” Julia laughs.

“Nathaniel isn’t going into Kindergarten, is he?” Micky asks.

“Next year. I came for Sarah’s back to school night. Joel’s daughter.” You point to where Sarah is just rushing over to her father. You feel the ghost of Joel’s touch when you utter his name. “We’ve been helping each other out a lot with everything.”

The couple nods, an awkward silence forming between you as if they don’t want to address the elephant in the room. The heat has let up a little bit as the sun begins to dip behind the trees.

“I’ve written to Tommy a couple of times,” Micky says, hands tucked into his front pockets. “Haven’t heard back much.”

You force a nod, feeling the tension grow in your limbs. “I haven’t been able to get much from him.”

You catch the way both their eyes widen. They were there the night you and Tommy met. They’d seen the way you fell, both of you. How inseparable your bond is, or was.

“Shit,” Micky says, running a hand over his face. “How are you holding up?”

“Not sure I am most days. Joel’s been a big help to us.” It feels like you’re concealing the whole truth. Joel’s been the crutch keeping you going most days. Julia’s brow furrows with concern.

Micky nods. “I’d like to go see him if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Maybe you can get through to him.”

“And we should get the kids together,” Julia adds. “Catch up ourselves.”

“That would be nice,” you smile at her as you catch Joel and Sarah waiting by the truck, laughing about something. “I should go, but you should call. Number’s still the same.”

“I’ll use it.” Julia smiles as you wave at both of them before crossing the parking lot with a weird feeling in your gut.

Seeing Julia and Micky was nice. It brought back a lot of good memories. The four of you. It’s another reminder of how lonely the last years have been. How much you’ve depended on Joel. How much he’s been there.

As you join Joel and Sarah at the truck, Sarah catches you up on all her friend’s summer vacations and updates, mouth moving a million miles a minute. She doesn’t stop as you climb in or for the click of your seat belt. You stay quiet, watching Austin wiz by out the passenger side window.

When Joel pulls into your driveway, you let out a sigh staring at the door. He leans over the center console, keeping his voice low. “You okay, Darlin? You’ve been quiet since we left.”

“Just tired. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” You fling the door of the pick up open.

“Darlin?”

You bristle, smoothing out your skirt as you turn to face him. His brows knit together. “I’m fine, Joel.”

“You’re coming over tomorrow, right Aunt Bonnie?”

“Of course, Sarah Bear.” You blow her a kiss, shutting the door before Joel can protest. He makes sure you’re inside before pulling out of the driveway.

Nathaniel is already asleep thanks to an afternoon at the playground and the magic your sitter works. You pay her extra tonight. You’ve never been more thankful to come home to a sleeping child, too distracted by the run in with your friends and Joel’s hot hands on you, the way he held you as if to tell the world to back off, you’re his.

You pull the bottle of Tequila out of the cabinet. You’re tempted to pull straight from the bottle but you pour a finger or so into a glass instead. Your mother raised you better than that. She also raised you better than to pine after your brother in law.

You throw back the whole glass. The cheap liquor burns your throat. You ran out of the good stuff last week with Joel and hadn’t made it to the liquor store yet. Joel had drunk you under the table, your tolerance not what it used to be. Not that you had ever been able to keep up with him. You fill the glass with another finger and toss it back. You can’t think about Joel. Can’t think about the way your wedding bands burn against your skin as if they are punishing you for tonight, for last week, for Father’s Day and for everything else.

You pour more tequila into the cup, but you add ice and margarita mixer this time, knowing the first two shots will catch up to you soon enough. You fall onto the couch with a sigh. Three weeks. Just three weeks and Tommy will be back. You won’t see Joel everyday. Your husband will take care of you, satisfy you. That’s all this is. The deprivation of the last two and a half years. You can make it three more weeks.

You try to reason it away. It makes sense. You and Joel have been so close in all this. He’s been your partner, not your husband, but partner. He’s an attractive man, thoughts were bound to pop up, lines were bound to get blurry, but all will correct itself when Tommy’s home. Yes, it all makes perfect sense.

You take a sip of the margarita. Condensation trickles down your hand and ice rattles in the glass. Even as the numbness of the tequila shots begins to take over your body, the reassurances feel weak.

Even if you can’t admit it, something has shifted. You and Joel are playing with fire.

Three more weeks you push. Tommy will be home. You’ll have Your Tommy back.

But you can’t erase the last two and a half years. Tonight, with the ghost of his hands on your body, you remember all the ways Joel has been there for you over these past years, filling in the gaping caverns Tommy left.

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love

@justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal @mellymbee @sarahhxx03 @lizzie-cakes @sixhours

@duckybird101 @anoverwhelmingdin @nervoushottee @caitlynsixxx @kaykay0315 @stevie75

@millercontracting @cals-laundry @jessthebaker @noisynightmarepoetry @vickie5446 @mewantpeepaw @tulips2715 @leggtostandon

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @lotusbxtch @ravenn-darkholme

#em's fics #joel miller #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #high infidelity (joel miller)#pedrostories #pedro stories

210 notes · View notes

wonderlandwalker · 21 days

Text

Shining Bright | James Potter x Reader

Marauders Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: You and James reunite after the winter holiday, reminiscing old memories and stumbling into new ones. Except Sirius doesn't know you're dating yet, and James is not particularly good at hiding it anymore.

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, fluff, angst kinda idk, Reader is Sirius' sister (how do I even tag that), 18+, hinting at abuse, simping, traumatizing bystanders, not proofread just go with it, no use of y/n, ignore any plotholes

Word Count: 4.0k

A/n: I listened to the hazbin hotel soundtrack on repeat while writing and I'm praying it doesn't show. This was gonna make this longer but then I got impatient so lemme know if you'd like more. Not kidding when I say it's not proofread this came straight out of my notes so sorry for any mistakes, will come back later to fix them xx

The black family siblings were all as bright as the stars they were named after, James knew this for a fact. Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky, scorching others with his light in a way you couldn't look away from even if you wanted to. Regulus, not as blinding as his brother, but shining in his own right amongst those who took the effort to look for the constellation he carried with him. And you, you were a puzzle James couldn't yet solve, the light luring him in like that spark people spend their lives looking for, never sure if they'll ever get to hold it.

After Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor in his first year, your parents had been very strict about who you socialized with, not wanting any further damage to the oh so carefully crafted family image. Not that it mattered, you and Sirius found plenty of ways to talk, most people didnt care enough to snitch and the ones who did were familiar enough with what you both were capable of to watch their tongues. Sirius was more loud and proud in his defiance, living up to his namesake in the sky, but you were better at hiding it, playing into the part people expected. Yes, Sirius was a fallen star, and your parents had worried he’d drag you with him, but you only shined brighter in his absence, trying to make up for the light lost as if something wasnt permanently dimming it.

And that's exactly what he was worried about right now, because you were never really yourself after a holiday at the Black family manor, always a part of you left behind, a part dimmed. But James was your sun, always there shining bright enough to ignore anything else, because with his light you were never truly dulled. He had missed you, he had missed you so much, your relationship was fresh, but he had been head over heels from the first time you kissed. He had been replaying the memory in his head so often he could almost see it.

You were slytherin’s head girl, just as he was gryfindoors head boy, and you had run into each other while doing rounds of the hallways. Typically this would be a job for the prefects, but for some reason the both of you had decided to take over their duties for the evening, you called it luck, James called it destiny.

It was simply banter while walking down the halls, and it was mostly at James’ expense, but he wouldn’t trade the moment for anything. He was loud with his body, moving his hands as he talked and sometimes kicking his feet ahead of him, but you were more quiet, more calculated. So James did what he always did, talk. “I had a dream once about a glass of strawberry lemonde except it was only as big as my pinky finger, and there was this duck who tried to keep stealing it from me.” You stop in your tracks as he finishes his rant, staring right at him. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream.” “Really?” his eyes were wide as he saw your face change.

“Are you crazy, of course I didn’t.” You fell back into step and he hurriedly caught up with you again. “Well you never know, Sirius and I have the same dreams sometimes, I mean we’re basically brothers-”

“Does that make me basically your sister?” Your eyebrows were raised at him as you asked your question, and he had to do his best not to trip over his own feet as he answered.

“What, no!-” his face had turned bright red rather quickly, and you would probably never admit this to him, but you had found it quite endearing. “I don’t, I just don’t think of you as a sister, definitely not a sister.” Somehow you had turned him into a nervous wreck in under a minute, and you were quickly getting addicted to the effect you had on him, letting him tumble over his words further.

“Like, if I married you, Sirius would be my brother but you wouldnt be my sister, you know. Those two things don’t have to go togethe-” his thoughts slowly trailed off as he turned his head to look at you, a bright smile now evident on your face, and if this is how your face lit up, he’d gladly make a fool of himself for the rest of his life. “You’ve been thinking about marrying me?” Your head was turned up towards him, challenging him to continue his train of thought. He looked frantically around him as if searching for an answer, hiping the right thing to say would magically appear, but of course it didnt. “What, of course not, I don’t wanny marry you. Wait- no i mean, hypothetically I would but-” “You can relax James, I’m just messing with you” Your shoulders were slightly shaking, suppressing laughter he was desperate to hear. “Right” The tension seeped out of him right as he started laughing himself, and it was so infectious you couldnt help but join him in it.

The two of you fell into an effortless silence as you continued, and James was about to break it before you beat him to the punch.

“You know, right now would be a great moment to kiss me” he was sure he would get whiplash from the way his head turned towards you. The look on your face didnt give anything away, and for a moment he had wondered if he had made it up. “If that's the sort of thing you’d want to do” you were looking down at your shoes now, roles reversed as you had become the nervous one, and for another moment he just stared at the blush creeping up on your face before he realised he should probably say something, anything.

“Don’t you think this is wrong? '' Alright, maybe that wasnt the right something to say, but he genuinely pondered before you put his worries to rest. “dont you think that’s up to us to decide?” You were looking up to him now, eyes enchanting him with a single glance.

“If Sirius finds out-” “I won’t tell if you don’t”

“Well- “James, do you want to kiss me or not?” “Merlin, yes.” with that the last of James’ self control was lost, and he pushed you into the wall behind you as his lips found yours, dedicated to explore you for as long as youd let him. You melted into the kiss just as quickly, leaning your body into him as he pressed up against you. James was eager with everything he did, and this was no exception. His hands didnt know where to go, never staying still for long as they roamed your body, you couldve sworn they were little rays of sunshine, lighting you up everywhere he touched. Your own hands found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging at some hair, resulting in a small moan leaving him, and after the taste you were desperate for more. James found himself in a similar situation, completely forgetting his surroundings as his mouth made its way to your neck, trailing kisses down from by your ear to your pulse point until you were silently moaning his name, begging him not to stop, not that he’d ever dare to.

He continued his assault on your neck, his hands trailing up higher and higher underneath your shirt, longing to feel more of you, you tugged at his hair again and led him back to your face, connecting your lips once more, this time more sloppy, your patience completely gone.

James was ready to drop to his knees for you, and he would have if he didnt hear someone nearly shriek behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with a second year Hufflepuff who looked close to fainting, stuck in place at the corner she had just turned.

“Shit” he mumbled as he leaped forward, not sure whether to comfort the girl or scold her for being out past curfew. As James looked back at you you were close to losing it, and he couldnt deny the humour of the situation himself. In the end the two of you walked the girl back to her common room, not too worried about the situation with how in shock she seemed to be.

So yes, winter break had left him simply wishing to be near you again, and now he was so close he could almost already feel you in his arms again. He had debated telling Sirius, it would be so much easier, since he had moved in with the Potters a while ago and James was struggling to keep his yearning for you to himself, he was sure his parents had figured it out already, but simply choose to let him deal with it on his own for now. Everytime you send Sirius an owl he wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, hoping that information about you would fall out like loose change.But he knew Sirius couldn't know, he knew that. Everyone assumes it's James who can't keep a secret, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, but really that's only because he's never really had a reason not to. Truly, it was Sirius who couldn't keep a thing to himself, once he knew, half of Hogwarts knew, he just couldn't stop himself from talking about the things that excited him, which was one of the qualities James so adored, but not one which would play in your favour at the moment.

You were still living with your parents, still subject to their ways and while James had begged you to come live with him as well, you were hesitant. Hesitant to leave Regulus behind, hesitant to leave the life you had grown so accustomed to, even if it wasn't a good one. The both of you knew your parents would never approve, sure, James held the pureblood status, but it had lost its value the moment he harboured Sirius.

And so when the winter holiday came to an end and they once again reached Hogwarts, James was the embodiment of pure excitement. He was glad no one was questioning it, most likely brushing it off as joy at reuniting with his friends, which wasn't entirely untrue.

For a little while he truly got lost in seeing everyone again, trading stories with Remus and Peter about what they had been up to, discussing pranks that needed to be set ij motion to make up for lost time, but when the start of term party took place and he walked down to the common room with the others he froze in his tracks, because there you were. For a split second he wondered if it had been a dream, he had been having them so often now, but Sirius rushed past him to envelop you in a hig so tight you spilled half of your drink over yourself, cursing at him in such a soft tone of endearment as you hugged him back.

"I've missed you, you know" Sirius was beaming at you, doing a quick double check of you, something James used to not think much about until je started doing it himself after he found the strange bruises none of you dared to speak of.

"Yes Siri, I do know" you chuckled back at him, and in that moment all the worry disappeared.

"I've missed you too"

The rest of the group caught up with the two of you, and it was Remus who first spoke

"It's good to see you back" he acknowledged with a small nod, not one for big gestures, but you had all learned it truly was the thought that counts.

"It's good to be back, now if you'll excuse me, I have to go change so there's no longer firewhiskey all over my shirt" You gave a pointed look at Sirius, but his antics were nothing new to you.

"Just use one of my sweaters so you don't have to go all the way back to the slytherin dorms, I have some extras upstairs" sirius nudged his head towards the stairs, you gave him a final hug as you moved to take him up on his offer.

As you walked by him James could smell the blend of vanilla and rosemary that was still there despite the liquor, it intoxicated him like a drug he was already hooked on, finally getting a fix of it after so long apart, and he had to remind himself not to grab you and kiss you right then and there.

You disappeared from his sight as you went up to the dorms and it only took another second for James' brain to spring to action.

"I gotta go"

"What, why? We just got here" he knew he would need a better excuse, but the fuses in his head weren't connecting.

" forgot my wand" is what splurged out

"Why would you need your wand we're-" thankfully it was Sirius's short attention span that came to the rescue, because the moment he saw Marlene he made a beeline to go see her. James wondered if he had it in him to explain his actions to Peter and Remus, but neither of them seemed to mind much, so he sprinted off to the stairs as well.

As soon as he got to his dorm, he reminded himself to knock, not wanting to startle you.

"Merlin Sirius, how am I meant to find anything in this mess?" James creaked the door open to see you rummaging through your brother's trunk, still looking for the sweater you had come up here to find.

"Why don't you just wear one of mine" even the idea of it already made James's head dizzy. Your head spun around as soon as you heard his voice, and for a moment the two of you simply stood there, looking at each other like a long lost treasure. But it didn't last long, because right after James crossed the room in record time, he took you in his arms, connecting his lips with yours as if you were his last source of oxygen. The kiss was heated and filled with lust from the both of you, and James could finally let himself go, finally let his thoughts out and make them reality once more.

That’s why he decided not to waste any more time as he gently nudged you towards his bed, making sure you wouldnt hit the headboard as the both of you laid down. He remembered the path he was trailing down your neck with his eyes closed, had remembered the way your breath hitched and your hips squirmed everytime he did so. All he had to do was follow the same signs and you were a mess underneath him in no time. His hands made their way up underneath your skirt, massaging the skin underneath his fingertips as he heard you moaning out his name, pleading for him to keep going, and he was more than happy to fullfill your request. He continued his way down until he came face to face with your whiskey stained shirt, not thinking twice before taking it off you, but from how you were quick to connect his lips with yours once more you didnt seem to mind. But James was a man on a mission, and it was not one he was willing to abandon. So he willed himself to ignore the whine that left you as he moved away from the kiss, knowing you’d forgive him for it soon enough.

He found his way to your chest and took in the sight for sore eyes you were to him, once again glowing underneath him. He was starting to suck bruises onto your skin, love marks he knew only he would see, and when he would next time he’d be just as eager to leave even more of them behind. Having you like this again, feeling the heat of your skin against him, your hands tugging at his curls as he could hear more and more moans slip out of you, it got him hard in his trousers simply thinking about all the things you’d let him do to you, all the things he’d do for you. He was rutting his hips into the mattress, desperate for the friction of it, his hands krept up further towards your cunt, inching further up until he could slide your underwear to the side and feel just how wet you were for him. His mouth was still busy on your chest as one of his fingers found its way inside of you, making you arch your back towards him. “Fuck darling, your pussy feels just as good as I remember” You wanted to reply to him, telling him how good he felt inside of you, his long hands reaching places you never could on your own, but your words failed you as just another moan left you, your exterior having crumbled down in a matter of minutes thanks to the one and only James Potter, but he seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“I know baby, I’ll take good care of you don’t worry”

He had never broken a promise before, and he wasn’t about to start now, he added a second finger, crooking them inside of you towards the one spot that would turn your vision white as if you were staring straight into the sun itself. If this had been any other moment you might have been embarrassed about how fast you were starting to reach your high, but James wasnt the only one who had been waiting for this, dreaming about seeing each other again, counting down the days. It took him only a little while longer, encouraged only further by your laboured breathing until he was sure he was about to reach his own climax simply from the sounds you were making underneath him as he coaxed you through it. But he didnt give you much time to recover, not letting you catch your breath as he went further down the bed until he could start kissing your thighs, giving in to the urge to bite some of the fat leading up to your cunt, it made you produce a small shriek, and it encouraged him even further.

So he wasted no more time, attaching his lips to your clit and lapping at it like a man starved, wanting to make you cum again, wondering how fast he could make you come undone again. His tongue hungrily took in all the juices from your previous orgasm and from the next one creeping closer and closer. His nose kept bumping against your clit as his mouth was now on your opening, not quite reaching the spots his finger could but oh so heavenly in a whole other way. He was dangerously close to his own high now, rather sure he’d reach it the moment you started spasming underneath him from the overstimulation. But he wasnt letting down just yet, doubling down on his efforts as he felt you grow restless, gracing his ears with whimpers and whispers reserved only for him. He could tell you were about to tip over the edge, knew you and your body well enough by now to see the signs before you even registered them yourself. “You can let go, I’ve got you” he accentuated his words with a soft squeeze to your inner thighs as he could feel you melt into him and took everything you would give him.

“I’m pretty sure you just beat your record” you were breathless but you were already softly giggling as a wide smile broke on his face, proud of himself for his endeavors but furthemore proud of how he had been able to get you to let your walls down around him, how you had let him help you disassemble them brick by brick with each passing day. It was still early in the relationship, but James had never been so sure as to the fact that he loved you, because your presence made him shine even brighter than he already did, and he wasnt sure how much longer he could keep it contained. He moved back up the bed, caging you in with his arms as he leaned down to kiss you, no longer hurriedly or messy, but soft and delicate like the first rays of morning light.

Just as he did so however, someone came barelling in the room, and James cursed himself for not having locked it.

“You better not be cutting one of my shirts into a tank-top again- holy fuck” Sirius very nearly landed face first into the hard wood flooring as he caught sight of the two of you before he he steadied himself on the dresser. The both of you shot up from your positions on the bed, and, ironically enough, approached him as one would a startled deer. “What in Merlin’s beard were you two just doing” He looked as if he was contemplating life itself, and you almost felt bad for him

“What, nothing, you’re drunk-” James tried to defend, but you were rather sure there was no way out of this one.

“I’m not drunk, I’m sober and that's the problem” He was flailing his hands around now, and it was hard to suppress the laugh bubbling its way up your throat.

“Don’t laugh, this is not a situation to laugh at” he was trying to be stern, but it didnt quite suit him.

“It’s alright Sirius, James and I have been seeing each other for a little while now” He was no longer shocked, no, his current expression better resembled being offended.

“And neither of you told me” he was nearly shouting now, but the party downstairs was loud enough that it didn’t really matter anyway.

“We haven’t told anyone, and youre not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

“Excuse me, I’m great at keeping secrets, I never told you he’s had a crush on you since third year, but apparently I should have”

“Completely forgot I ever told you that” James’ shoulders had lost their tension as he stood next to you now, slowly reaching out for your hand.

“I will go now before either of you scar my eyes any further” Sirius said as he made his way back to the dorm door.

“Oi Moony, wait till you hear- fuck I can’t tell you” He had made a complete mood shift once more as he turned fuzzy, wanting to tell someone the news immediatly.

“It’s fine, Remus knows.” You tell him, interlacing your fingers with James’ in the meantime.

This time he looked betrayed again, halfway down the stairs already as you could hear him yelling. “You knew and didnt tell me?!” and it was faint, but you could make out Remus’ voice as well. “Of course I knew, I have eyes” The two of you looked at each other as he placed a simple kiss on top of your hair, a small gesture of affection that would become increasingly more common with time. He turned around briefly to grab something from his trunk and before you could register it he had already asked, the shirt in his hand.

“Still gotta change your top, why don’t you take my jersey” It made your heart flutter as you slipped the item of clothing over your head and you went to follow Sirius downstairs, figuring this was as good a time as any to tell everyone.

344 notes · View notes

bangtanintotheroom · 3 months

Text

Plug & Play (M)(Teaser)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words (teaser): 742

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show! 🎸, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, hitting it from the back, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: Welp, it’s happened; I fell for yet another leader 🙃 which culminated in me going feral over his recent guitar solo and needing to write something related to it. So here it is! I should have this uploaded by Thursday morning, the latest, since I’ll be out of town for a few days. We’re trucking along pretty quickly, so I have faith! 💕

• Teaser Notes: Teasers are a WIP and will not fully reflect the final draft, warnings and themes are subject to change. If you want to be tagged when the final draft is released, either leave a reply or shoot me an ask!

• Taglist: @minttangerines @minisugakoobies @firesighgirl @swga-ficrecs @hyunjinsjeans

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as a certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it just left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking up to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

214 notes · View notes

jazjelspen · 10 months

Text

leaving on wild charted waters [pt.5]

(what if our mc just got tired of Night Raven College and it's inhabitants?)

(what if our mc participates in RSA's annual ball!)

("filler" chapter/splashes of angst but it gets real more into the chapter/fluff/mc having fun/fleshing out RSA students/ basically the same author's note in pt 4 applies here/not proofread/oh and mc has like a few NRC scares here T-T)

(requested tags!: @vivianstar-blog2 @phantomcookiedough)

if you want to be tagged in future chapters please comment or message me! I will only tag you if you directly ask for it and i will only tag you once unless you ask to be tagged on all future chapters of a particular series. thank you to all those who asked for a part 5!)

the ball: part 2

(prepping)

three full weeks have passed since you first seeked refuge in RSA and now it's now a brand new day in the fourth week of your stay. it was the day of the highly anticipated ball!

it was the school's annual ball with students from all dorms joining together for a night of magic and music. many found this boring while others were excited for it. you were one of many that were excited for such an event!

you and your five best friends including a distant friend named Elias Ashes all came to visit the so called 'fairy godfather' of the school, Evan Bleu, a fourth year of RSA working towards his official fairy godparent license but for now is practicing by making wishes come true around the school here and there when the time is right. in this present moment every one of you were standing in certain parts of his dorm room while he stood there overlooking every one with a smile.

"seems like you all seven seem to be in need of my services! would I be standing correct if I said that you all are here for the ball?" all of you simultaneously nodded before Evan spoke up once again while clapping a bit in excitement "amazing! this'll be fun! now, would you all be kind to tell or show some elements of what each of you would like to wear tonight?" asked the platinum haired boy while scrunching up his sleeves to his elbows with a slim white wand in hand.

Alex first hummed while thinking before shrugging "not sure, something nice, fancy, comfortable. elements?... you put whatever you think fits me most." he gave Evan a small smile "giving you all the creative liberty as long as I look good, blue."

Evan chuckled as he nodded "I understand Alex, now who's next?"

immediately right after he finished speaking chirped in the light caramel haired boy, Elias, who raised his hand up as he spoke up second "oh! oh! me... please! I'd like something similar to what you usually give me!.. but with a different type of shoe fit for the occasion please. since last time I lost my left shoe in the middle of the dance..."

"oooh I'm so sorry... yes I'll keep that in mind!" exclaimed the white haired boy in blue.

you then raised your hand third, still unsure of what exactly you liked as long as it was comfortable for the night. "uhm, I'd like to go next!--" you spoke up while Evan gave his full eyes and ears to you "perhaps something comfortable yet fun looking?.. I'd still like to look good without feeling heavy or too tired at the end of the night!" you smiled as you spoke as well as mentioning several other elements to your outfit that you'd like to wear and have on you for the occasion.

Evan nodded and kept a mental note of what you wanted "a unique yet well established mix! I just know for a fact your outfit will be amazing!"

Neige then was next to speak, but anything he said became slowly muted in your ears since you felt two small set of eyes looking at you. you slowly turned your head towards the open window of the room to come face to face with a little bat. a bat that seemed very familiar but you couldn't exactly put your finger on it on where you remember it from. what made it even weirder was that it's beady little eyes were looking right at you when you slowly started to realize that you have never seen a bat on campus before. 'how weird..' you thought 'perhaps it's a pet, or it's from the courtyard..' you felt like you had it on the tip of your tongue but you really weren't sure. it did out nerve you though because the only other place you've seen bats around was in NRC, specifically Diasomnia.

but if the only place bats could come from is Diasomnia then... could it?..

no it couldn't be, no way-- they wouldn't be that crazy in sending a small mammal to find you and watch you right?-- right??

if so, poor bat.

but also if so, you knew you'd be overly annoyed and irritated beyond belief. why couldn't they just leave you alone?? wasn't it clear enough with you leaving that you didn't want to be around them anymore!?...

even if you did miss them all to death.

yet despite this you reminded yourself that you left for a reason. you left because no one helped you enough and most of the time you fended for yourself and Grim when no one looked your way when you asked for help. they insulted you belittled you and made you feel worthless. threw you in overblot after overblot to play therapist to all those affected with issues that weren't any of your business to begin with yet were dragged in anyway. you were forced to live in a haunted dorm with the floors creaking and ceilings at times caving in on their own-- sometimes the ghosts were helpful and kind at times but your bad first impression of the beginning of your experience tainted the rest of it.

then.. what even was there to miss?

'no, I can't go back. I came here for a way home and a place to stay where I won't have to risk my life every week or month. I can't do this to myself anymore.' you reminded yourself.

you let out a deep sigh before you felt a sudden gentle shake of your arm, you snapped your head towards who that was at the same time you snapped out of your thoughts. the one who shook your shoulder was Rielle.

"hey... you seemed to be staring at something outside but it flew away and you stayed staring at that spot.. you feeling alright?" your favorite RSA redhead spoke as we realized that everyone in the room looked at you worryingly. the feeling of all eyes on you made you shrink down a bit.

"im fine im fine just-- remembering some stuff from back at NRC.. it's nothing really I didn't mean to make any of you guys worry." you shrugged as you gave them a sheepish smile. "anyway, where were we?" you asked, but then everyone kinda had a confused look on their faces now.

"_____," Rielle spoke "we've all finished saying what we wanted to say, we're gonna go get a quick bite before getting ready and finally leaving for the ball."

you looked at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaped mouth, to which Chenya ever so politely with one finger pushed your jaw up to close your lips together. "was I zoned out for that long?.."

"uhh-huhh.." Chenya intercepted "kinda scary to be hones-- yoWCH!"

Alex slapped Chenya on the arm for his comment and spoke with an irritated tone "he's lying _____ don't listen to a thing this fur-ball has to say." huffed the young man.

"ahh well-- then let's get going then! so we can get ready and be on time for the ball!" you stood up from wherever you were sitting "and thank you very much for your time, Evan!" you spoke as you gave thanks to the boy in blue before you walked over to the door, the rest of your group rushing in getting up and speed walking towards the door with you. all but Elias whom seemed to wait till everyone left so he could leave himself.

Evan waved at all of you as you walked out "bye bye starshines! see you in a few!"

everyone else said or yelled their 'see ya' laters.

when you were all now away from the proximity of Evan's dorm room though Chenya decided to start speaking,

"he calls everyone 'starshine'... me-ow always thought it to be kinda cheesy dontcha think?-- yoWCH!"

"shut it cat, it's just his thing leave the poor guy be."

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

(getting ready)

the next few hours went by in a total blur. you all ate together while talking about school, common interests, and of course the ball. you all walked back to the Evan's dorm room to see a several group of students you recognized already walking out looking dashing and formal.

once you all walked in it seems like Evan just finished up getting Elias ready-- and gosh was he sparkling like the night sky. "ah! hello everyone!" spoke our 'fairy godfather.' "come in! I just finished up my friend here so whomever is ready can come on next!"

and the rest was also a blur but you clapped here and there for each of your friends who each looked flattering and stylish in their own unique ways with outfits that really suited their personalities. it wasn't until it was your turn to get ready that you fully now fully in the moment.

"now let's see... something comfortable yet fun.." mumbled Evan "let's try.. bibidi-babidi-boo." with a quick move of his wrist he pointed his wands towards you and a splash of tiny specs of stars engulfed your body to form the shape of your desired outfit. your hands almost covered your face as a reflex to shield yourself but quickly relaxed when you felt nothing but magic hugging you tightly before it dispersed and showed your outfit and-- it looked like something you'd only wish for in dreams. at first it was a bit weird to see yourself so formal after being in NRC for so long but you got used to it when you saw how it complimented all your features and your body type... and it felt hella comfortable!

except there was one thing missing...

Evan gasped as you poked a foot out "oh my! my apologies my dear" he flicked his wrist towards your shoes to change them to whatever pairs of shoes your heart wished for, along with some artistic contribution from Evan as well.

your entire group either were stuck frozen staring(respectfully) or complimented you to death, overall everyone shared the same opinion: you looked absolutely amazing.

as everyone fell into chatter and were getting ready to leave and go out in about in new fabulous attire Evan had to announce one important thing "now remember everyone! spell only lasts until--"

"--the clock strikes twelve! we know we know blue, at twelve we all go back to normies." spoke Chenya as he tried to get comfortable in these formal clothes.

"very well then! now go on everyone, have fun! take lot's of pictures and make many memories! oh and don't forget to post on Magicam so I can see too!" the blue fairy waved you all off as you all walked out and cheered many 'thank you's and 'see you soon's in unison.

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

(the ball)

you all walked to the ball since the ballroom was in such close proximity to the dorms. you all joked around and playfully mingled in a buzz of pre-party excitement. as you all approached the entrance you and your friend group stared in awe at the glowing entrance and banner welcoming you all to RSA's annual ball.

Neige let out a small 'whoa' under his breath as he held his hands up together under his chin "I knew the fireflies were a nice touch!"

Raps nodded, "just wait until you see the murals inside!"

as you took your first steps inside you could truly feel your breath sucked out of your lungs... in a good way.

the scene that stood before you inside was nothing but magically. the ballroom was very large and wide with various sets of tables that you all helped set up now being occupied by several groups of students at the ball. classical music played in the back as well as an empty dj booth waiting to be used beside the small yet very talented orchestra playing only a few main instruments. despite how far away they were from the entrance you could still hear the vibrant and elegant melodies play in and out your ears as if it were right beside you. various students from various different dorms were slowly starting to occupy many parts of the ballroom aside from the tables to either just stand in their own groups in the corners of the room or to just get food on the many side tables out on display for all to get. and when you looked up your mind just exploded even more with how beautiful the ceiling and wall murals looked thanks to you and Raps's team up. they looked similar to the vibrant and detailed church murals you've seen before except the paintings here were much more vibrant and rich in color and beauty. and we can't forget to mention the chandelier! with the light hitting each speck of glass hanging onto the chandelier it's like it emphasized the scenery and made the murals pop and look almost heavenly.

wow, you really had much to say about the event.

Rielle gently grabbed your wrist and carefully lead you to any empty table you guys could find with enough seats for the six of you to sit together, once you did you all made sure to leave a few items or coats to mark this as your spot.

"lets go get some grub now! all those sparkles and fancy outfits have made me hungrier than a hog." Chenya tittered before Alex and Raps each grabbed the cat's left and right arms individually to drag him to the table as they exclaimed 'you bet!'.

Rielle was about to head over with the other boys until he noticed that you haven't moved, seeing you still a bit star-struck at all the flowers, paintings, lights, and all other decorations you all set up as a group made him smile softly. "not joining us, shrimpy?" he asked,

'shrimpy'... you swore you almost heard Floyd's voice ring in your ears.

"I'll--" you interrupted yourself immediately by snapping your head to look at him in a split second "what?.." an almost afraid expression contorted your face.

Rielle immediately noticed this reaction and his heart cracked seeing that look on you "o..oh!-- I'm so sorry _____ I didn't.. know you wouldn't like it--" he then by reflex quickly but gently held one of your hands with a genuinely guilty look on his face "it's just-- it's silly really but you at times remind me of a little shrimp since y'know.. I grew up in the sea! but I didn't know it’d come off in a bad way! I’m truly sorr!—“

ahh right, now you remember. he's told you that he was originally born and raised a merman, just like those other three you used to know.

you immediately stopped him from talking by simply interrupting him "no no! of course not!-- look you didn't offend me at all it's just.. it reminded me of a nickname a..."friend"... from NRC called me too.." you paused only to smile warmly, which melted off that frown off the redhead's face. "but I like it better when you say it."

the young man nodded in understanding, feeling better now that you told him how you really felt as well as feeling a bit special. he gave your hand a bit of a gentle squeeze before he heard the voice of Chenya steadily coming closer and closer.

"hurryy Red! your favorite strawberries and cream that you like are at the dessert table and everyone's getting their grubby hands on them before youu! let's gooo!~" Chenya linked arms with Rielle before dragging him away from you, leaving your hand cold.

"I..I'll be right back _____!" he exclaimed before being dragged further into the crowd by his cat-eared friend.

even if the moment was resolved fast, it still left you a bit spooked.

You waved them off before you took your seat at the table you all decided on staying until you looked to your side to see Neige. you thought he left with the others but I guess not. "oh! hey Neige, not eating either?"

Neige who was currently on his phone perked up at the mention of his name and gave his full attention to you "I will! just that-- I'm kinda a bit occupied with some comments on a specific post lately.. they've been really weird and all.. I closed comments but as im previewing what they said before--" he spoke as he eyed his phone with a weird look on his face. "I understand what they mean but-- I also just don't get it exactly."

"mind if I take a look?" you asked before he gave you a nod and a sweet smile and handing you his phone. you gently took it from his hands to see it was the picture that you and him took on Magicam, you scrolled down to meet with an enormous amount of comments that you could only assume to be from NRC students considering what they are saying..

"so they went to RSA?.. lol they really switched up on us.."

"traitorous much?..."

"ooo so this is why my house leader has been meaner than usual."

"all of our house leaders have been meaner than usual anon."

"lmao tf is that the prefect"

"y is the ramshackle prefect in rsa..."

"that explains why everyone is talking about a boat."

"they do know they just started a war, right?"

and this was just a few of what you were able to read.

god, these comments really weren't helping..

"ah.." you sighed as you were hit in the face with the realization that now not only does everyone know, but that they are not handling it well. honestly you were glad they were at war with themselves at your departure. all you wanted was to leave them to their own devices with you not having to tug them all back like rabid dogs. yeah, let them be at war. let them handle things themselves, it wasn't your job to apologize for everything they did.

you wouldn't really call it a betrayal that you left, it was a necessary act to take care of yourself. so if they wanted to call you a 'traitor' because you left to find a better way back home then so be it.

"night raven students, guess my leave from there to here has got them in a buzz.." you shook your head as you huffed "ignore them Neige they are just so pressed because of your school and their school being rivals. nothing against you personally at all." you flashed him a gentle smile in hopes of turning his frown upside down "not only that, but we're at a ball!" you held one of his hands gently as you tried to stay optimistic "c'mon let's eat something fast then hit the dance floor once the dj starts! we will not let some students from across the sea ruin our night of fun."

Neige could feel himself sigh and let out a nice big smile at your words, since you were definitely right on that part, we couldn't let students that aren't even a few feet close to us ruin this night.

then just as fast as they left the rest of your group came back quickly with food! especially Chenya and Alex who both seemed to be balancing plates of food on their heads and arms.

"me-ow thought that maybe we'd bring your plates to you since both you lazy kittens didn't get up~" purred Chenya.

Rielle was the next to interact "here, your favorite!" he spoke sweetly before placing a dish you've grown to love in RSA right in front of you.

you thank him kindly, once everyone set their plates down and ate you and Neige silently agreed to ignore the comments that you read together. the thing is that you felt even more uneasy than usual.

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

(the needle)

after eating and the dance music started that's when all of you jumped onto the dance floor and stated jumping and dancing your faces off, even if some of you didn't even know how to dance or were not very used to it you all felt comfortable enough with each other to not even think about being judged. both music and blood were beating against your ears and the beat of your heart was hitting against your throat as you were dancing and jumping while all of you interacting and holding onto each other in the middle of the crowd of other RSA students that were enjoying their own times with their friends too. for once in your life you've felt free and full of healthy adrenaline. after months of having to play Cinderella at Night Raven College you were finally able to have your own night at the ball where no one could bother you anymore, no headmaster to boss you around and no upper or even lower class-men to ruin this for you anymore.

at least you really hoped this was the case tonight.

there was a moment where you felt a strong breeze from behind you, then another breeze, and another. it got to the point where you had to snap away from the excitement to now move your head towards whatever was that was basically flying beside you. you looked over at the side where you felt your last breeze and it was towards one of the open windows that were open to let in the fresh night air.

how odd.

it was a bat hanging from the top of the window, maybe the same bat that you saw recently?...

then there was a small yet very bright ball of light that shined right beside the bat as if accompanying it. anyone could've mistaken it for a small firefly but something was different, very off, it seems as if these two were watching you. what weirded you out more was that no one beside the windows noticed these two, almost as if it was only you who could see it.

you stayed there standing in the middle of the dancing crowds, you squinted your eyes to get a better view but all you could see was the little bat flapping it's wings as if motioning a 'come here' movement.

"hey ______! why're you standing our song is playing!" Raps exclaimed you out of your thoughts, you flinched a bit before giving them a small yet obviously forced smile to them all before responding back.

"oh! I.." you paused as your eyes flickered between your friends and the bat with the little bright light "I need to use the restroom! I'll be right back!--" you exclaimed right before you tried to squeeze yourself through to go straight to the window in hopes that your friends were too high on the dancing adrenaline to not notice you. when you got closer the bat it quickly flew out and darted to somewhere up higher..

the bright little light stayed for you to finally approach it, seeing how close you finally were this same light started to slowly fly towards a quick back exit from the ballroom where almost no one paid attention to. as it flew you could hear your name being faintly ushered by said light, this only piqued your interest even more and the faint tone of it's voice held a sense of familiarity to you. it caused your legs to then quickly catch up to it out the exit and swiftly walk out.

the light lead you to a brick wall behind one of the school's towers, the light seemed to phase through the wall before coming out again when it saw you didn't follow it. the small light slowly walked through the wall, following each step you took. you took a deep inhale, puffed out your cheeks, closed your eyes and walked right through the wall! when feeling no impact from it you then opened one of your eyes and let yourself exhale.

looking around your surroundings you see that it's all dark, a large and wide stone space with a small window above the ceiling that shined the moonlight towards the middle of the room where it rested a spinning wheel with the bright little light that continued to usher your name landing right on top of the tip of the spindle. your footsteps echoed and bounced across the room as you slowly approached the spinning wheel.. you watched the little light continue to glow and then seep itself into the needle of the spindle. your hand, without any of your control, then slowly reached towards the needle. it was slow with your conscious trying to stop it from moving but your hand continued to hover over the needle. right as you felt your finger graze the tip of it..a large puff of black smoke immediately engulfed and wrapped itself around your entire body.

until you felt a heavy weight lean and hold onto you, two arms around your waist, a face on your shoulder, black hair in your own face as well as the shadow of horns... very familiar horns.

"my child of man... I have you again."

oh.. no.

oh no.

(hope this came out alright! I don't know if I proofread this properly at all so I'll just count this as not proofread T-T hope it's still a nice chapter to start off the angst and drama that will seep in from NRC to RSA!)

696 notes · View notes

plutoccult · 2 months

Text

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

description: a beautiful stranger shakes up your once boring and repetitive morning commute on the train.

word count: 3.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello! i’m no stranger to writing, but i’m definitely a stranger when it comes to writing for idols. this is the first time i’ve ever done so, and who better to write for than my ultimate bias hyunjin? stray kids is my favorite group, so i’d like to write more content for them in the future. thank you to my pookie wookie lills (YES, we unironically call each other pookie, it’s our thing) for beta reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

soundtrack: beautiful stranger, enchanted

tags: @solefleurs @heavenfilm @5sos-wdw @todorokiskitten @rylea08 @br3anna-nels0n @hyunjinloverrrr

taglist form here

you always found an array of characters during your morning commute on the paris metro. there’d always be locals, some on their way to work or home just like you. amongst the locals were tourists decked out in overpriced souvenirs specifically curated for suckers like them. at night, there were drunks who thankfully were smart enough not to drive. the reek of alcohol on them wasn’t that amusing, you must admit.

despite the variety of people you could see passing by on your commutes, it grew boring. always the same thing every single day. not even the music playing in your headphones or the book you brought with you that day could make time go faster. it’s not like it would be any better once you got off the train either. your life was incredibly dull and repetitive. if only something could serve as a change of pace.

to think that your life had become boring in a place like paris of all places. it’s the city of love, is it not? even if you were created out of love and born in a city all about that concept, you had none of it. maybe that’s why you felt this way. no matter how many times you pass the same streets or enter the same train station, you had yet to find the one thing everyone seemed to look for so easily here.

you had basically given up at this point, committed to living an empty life where all you did was work, eat, sleep, then repeat. it’s what most people do in other countries anyway, might as well join the party. the second you had fully lost all hope, however, was when you saw the most beautiful stranger on the train. you almost wanted to slap yourself for being so pessimistic before.

you walked onto the train with the expectation of just sitting around until you got to your stop. as you walked to your usual seat, that’s where you found your beautiful stranger, sitting in the seat right across from the one you sat in every single day without fail.

you knew you had never seen him before. you take this train almost every damn day, so who was he? had he just moved here? was he a tourist? where’s the “i love paris” shirt and the eiffel tower keychain made of shitty plastic? instead, he was dressed like someone meant to be on billboards and magazines. surely had the face to fit the bill too. he was undoubtedly breathtaking, and he ultimately captivated you upon first sight.

it was pathetic how you hesitated to sit down. he didn’t seem to waver, looking down at his phone. from the reflection of his sunglasses—yes, you were that curious—he seemed to be swiping through photos. you assumed they were ones he had taken around the city. paris was definitely filled with photo opportunities, so you couldn’t blame him for that one. it’ll look good on anyone’s instagram feed.

you try your best to make yourself look occupied. shuffling through your bag to find a book, the rummaging sounds catch the attention of your beautiful stranger. your eyes meet for a brief moment when you turn your body to lean back in your seat with a book in hand. despite how quick the moment was, you swore your heart dropped the second you caught his gaze.

oh god, was this the excitement you had been waiting for? you couldn’t mistake it as anything else. leave it up to you to fall for a stranger upon first sight, but who cares? finally, finally, your life had begun to be painted in color. even if it was just for a moment, you’d savor this one train ride that actually seemed worthwhile for once in your life.

you steal glances at him every so often, praying he wouldn’t catch you and make you feel embarrassed for staring. you just couldn’t help yourself, he was like a walking renaissance painting. actually, you don’t even think da vinci would be capable of capturing the essence of someone who looked like a real-life prince.

the moment you knew you had reached your stop, you wished you could glue yourself to your seat so you had no choice but to stay on the train with your beautiful stranger a little longer. as much as you wanted to, you simply couldn’t, having no choice but to say goodbye without actually saying a word at all.

it was silly to think a stranger on the train could change your life in an instant. still, you were grateful for the temporary change of pace. if only you could thank him somehow, but alas, you knew you had no chance of seeing him again.

•••

the next day, you found your beautiful stranger again, this time sketching down something in a sketchbook. you caught him looking at everyone who walked onto the train, and when it was finally your turn to step on, he actually smiled once he laid eyes on you. it all felt like you were dreaming. if this was cloud nine, then you had finally reached it.

when you walked over to your seat across from his, you noticed he clutched the sketchbook close to his chest, almost like he didn’t want you to see what he was drawing. you were too shy to speak up and spark a conversation with him anyway, so it wasn’t like you would pry. still, you were curious to know what was on the page.

it pained you knowing you lacked any courage. you found you were better off acting like you were interested in your book, on a random page as you were too in your head to actually start from where you left off and completely ignored the folded page that indicated that. what would happen if you said hello? would he say hi back? ask if you’d like to see what he’s drawing or ask about what you’re reading? the possibilities seemed to be endless, but the possibilities seemed safer as thoughts in your head rather than facing reality if you were to take a chance.

you can’t help but watch intently as his face scrunched from focusing on his sketch, his only tool a wooden pencil. did he plan to color it later? you can imagine trying to avoid rattling colored pencils leaving his possession due to the bumpiness of the train. he was quite brave for trying to draw in a place like this, you thought.

unnoticed by you, your beautiful stranger’s cheeks flushed and ears burned red as he could feel you watching him draw. the subject of his drawing still remained a mystery to you, however. tempting to spark up a conversation, yet so debilitatingly scary at the same time.

it seemed rude to stare for so long, so you put a stop to it immediately and busied yourself with your phone, catching up with texts you had missed since getting up for work. your phone was always blown up with texts from your friends, today being no different. if you didn’t silence your phone at night, you would never get any sleep.

they had been informed about your current saga, and the update would certainly excite them. it was hard to resist a smile as you texted them about the latest scoop, especially as the subject of said scoop was only a few meters away from you. maybe this should wait until later, otherwise they’d trying forcing you out of your comfort zone by talking to who was still a total stranger at the end of the day.

who knows though? for all you know, he could be a murderer. a stinking gorgeous one too. as if you need to be on the evening news. even so, those were just silly thoughts, all just an excuse to stop yourself from taking a chance at something for once in your life out of fear.

the second you reached your stop, you instantly regretted being so silent. would it have killed you to try? it felt like it would’ve, but you figured this morning was the last chance you’d have. if only you weren’t such a scaredy cat.

•••

after your shift, an unexpected reunion occurred on the evening commute. the train was quite crowded at this time of day, majority of the aboard trying to get home after a long day’s work, including you. the surplus of people made it quite difficult to find seating, but luckily for you, your beautiful stranger had a seat occupied by his bag, perfect for you to sit.

this was the extra chance you craved the second you got off the train earlier, cursing yourself throughout the day for not even attempting to just say hello. you were so thankful to see him again, it was almost like the universe blessed you for this very purpose. you were such a wuss this morning, but you refused to allow that reputation to continue now.

once you took a deep breath, you walked to where your beautiful stranger sat, trying to keep your balance as the train moved at rapid speed. in the midst of your struggle, the sound of your footsteps thumping on the ground caught his attention. he looked up in surprise, not expecting to see you, but thrilled nonetheless.

“hi.” you miraculously manage to speak out, your accent making an appearance during your pathetic english. it was agonizing how your heart raced a mile a minute just by uttering one word, so you tried your very best to calm yourself down. “is this seat taken?”

“no, no…” he replied to your question, picking up his bag and moving it to the floor by his feet so you could sit. “here.”

“thank you.” you say before taking the seat next to him.

god, your heart was thumping like the loudest drum ever created. to sit across from his was one thing, but right next to each other, shoulders brushing due to the lack of room? if only you could put a stop to this rapid percussion inside you. at least the sounds of the train rumbling against the tracks could serve as buffer for the unspoken tension between you and your beautiful stranger.

his sketchbook rested unopened on his lap. you recognized it as the one he had earlier, previously held close to his chest as if he were hiding secrets. what could someone as dashing as him be hiding in there, you wonder?

almost as if he were reading your mind, he suddenly opened up the sketchbook, flipping the pages—which revealed beautiful drawings in the split second you saw them—until he landed on a page of a finished sketch, one that you swore looked like you sitting on the train yesterday.

you look up and catch his eye. “is that me?”

“mhm.” he nodded with a soft grin.

his art style was something to be proud of, meant to be showcased in somewhere exquisite like the louvre. could this guy be any more perfect? drop dead gorgeous and talented? to see yourself captured in such a bewitching way was truly the greatest compliment one could ever receive.

the sound of the page ripping away from the binding of the sketchbook startled you. what was he doing? it was so perfect! why mess it all up? you couldn’t help but say something about it.

“what are you—”

“you can have it.” he interrupted you, holding the page in his hands, waiting for you to take it.

“oh…” your cheeks flush as your fingers accidentally grazed over his upon grabbing the sketch. “thank you.”

you almost felt bad holding this in your hands, afraid of ruining it just by the touch of your hand. how could he just let you have this without hesitation? even if this was a drawing of you, it felt like you didn’t deserve to have it.

you examine the drawing down to the details of the clouds behind you. you look for some sort of signature, assuming every artist had one in hopes to find a name. in the bottom corner, you see the name “hyunjin” written in cursive. you had finally put a name to your beautiful stranger.

“hyunjin?” you attempt to pronounce his name. your accent did you no favors, but you tried your best regardless. he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until you pointed to where his signature was, then receiving a nod confirming that was his name.

“hwang hyunjin.” he said slowly. you repeat his name in full, speaking slower than him to make sure you were saying it correctly as you desperately didn’t want to screw it up. hyunjin, as you’ve now learned, gave you a nod of approval once you’ve won the battle with your accent.

“i’m y/n l/n.” you tell him. it would be awfully rude if he didn’t learn your name, after all. it seemed hyunjin didn’t seem to struggle at all when it came to pronouncing your name. his english was far better than yours, which wasn’t a shock as he seemed to be so insanely perfect in every aspect possible.

“are you an artist?” you ask, making an assumption based on the clues given to you the past two days. if he were anything else, you’d be surprised.

“i sing and dance.” hyunjin replied. you couldn’t believe his perfection could get any greater, but it just did. it would shock you if you learned your once beautiful stranger was a world famous one.

“well, your art is lovely.” you say.

“thank you.” he blushed shyly. to hyunjin, it felt so nice being treated like a normal person, appreciated for his art above all else. while there was no denying you found him to be the most breathtaking person you’d ever seen, there was more beneath the surface, and hyunjin was grateful to be seen for what he loves to do.

“is this your first time in paris?” you question, a chuckle escaping hyunjin’s lips over your pronunciation of your homeland. you were trying to get as much information out of him as possible before you were tortured with reaching your stop and leaving him once more. you had to take this chance while the universe let you have it.

“this is one of my favorite places to visit.” hyunjin said. truth be told, he always loved paris for its scenery and art, but yesterday he found one more reason to love it. is there any other place to love better than a city known all about that?

a visitor’s perspective was certainly different than the perspective of someone who’s lived here their whole life. there were so many reasons to love paris when you didn’t experience the greatest things about it everyday. to you, it was the same old thing. but to hyunjin, it was like a brand new experience each time in the rare event that he visited. but meeting each other allowed the both of you the ability to find something new to appreciate about this city.

“the eiffel tower gets old after a while.” you joke. hyunjin burst into a fit laughter, one more obnoxious than his calm chuckle from before. it infected you instantly, and you craved more of his laugh now that you’ve fully heard it.

hyunjin calmed himself down, letting out a sigh as he leaned his head back with his eyes closed and a grin on his face. he was truly the most beautiful person you had ever seen. “i hope i never get sick of this place.”

“i hope you never do.” you tell him, looking at his face as if he were a sculpture in a museum. “don’t wear it out.”

“i won’t.” he opened his eyes and responded to you, his smile not going away as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

you can’t help but stare at one another, almost like magnets pulling you together. was it normal to feel like this about someone you barely know? even so, it felt like you knew hyunjin before you ever met. such a thought would seem like insanity to someone else, but not to you, at least not in the moment.

your once unwavering stare was unfortunately interrupted by the sudden thrash of the train stopping. you look out the window and recognize it as your stop. if you were crazy enough, you’d stay on the train until they kicked you out, but you weren’t all that brave enough to try your luck. maybe you were better off savoring this moment for what it was; just a moment with a beautiful man who was once a stranger to you.

“ah, that’s my stop.” you say with a frown. hyunjin’s smile from before faded too. it was clear neither of you wanted this to end.

“oh, alright.” he replied. hyunjin watched as you quickly collected your things, not forgetting the drawing he gave you when you first sat next to him. you would cherish it as long as you could, and he could only hope that’s what you’ll do.

“maybe i’ll see you on the stage here someday, yeah?” you force a smile. you were actually sad to see this end, but if you keep a grin on your face, then maybe it’ll hurt a little less.

“yeah…” hyunjin nodded. “i hope you do.”

“bye, hyunjin.” you wave goodbye, hyunjin doing the same.

“thank you for making the train less boring for me.” you get those final words out before following the line of people exiting the train. hyunjin kept his eye on you for as long as he could, even staring out the window as you disappeared into the sea of people. if only he could have went with you.

“bye, y/n.” he said to himself, clutching the sketchbook that once held his masterpiece; a drawing of you, his beautiful stranger.

•••

on the third day, hyunjin was nowhere to be seen. you saw it coming, really. you knew last night was probably your final chance to ever see him again. still, a part of you hoped he’d magically appear on the train when you went to work the next morning.

the thrill you once had was no more. the spark lit aflame in your heart all gone. you weren’t sure if anyone would make you feel the same way hyunjin did. maybe meeting him was a lesson, something to teach you what the city of love was truly about, what you’ve failed at your entire life. at least now you were able to succeed, even if such a success was temporary.

you were thankful that your once black and white world finally had some saturation in it for once. if you were to meet hyunjin once again, no matter what the circumstance may be, the world would be in full bloom. you would look for him in everything you see, down to the bakeries you’ll eat at and sceneries you’d visit, for as long your thoughts echoed his name.

while your routine became repetitive once more, at least you had hyunjin’s image in your brain and his drawing in a picture frame on your shelf. if you were as talented as him, you’d try your hand at drawing him too, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to capture him like your eyes ever did. at least you have the memories.

hyunjin dreaded watching you leave, and he hated it even more when he left for the airport in the morning. he wondered if you thought about where he went, hoping you thought about him like he did now with you. you’d remain ingrained in his mind. whenever hyunjin thought about paris, a place he loved just as much as his hometown, he would think about you too.

he couldn’t explain this sadness inside him to anyone else. hyunjin couldn’t fathom anybody understanding the feeling of love at first sight like he did. a true romantic at heart, maybe you were the only one to be just as foolish as him when it came to romance. after all, you were instantly captivated by one another.

maybe, just maybe, hyunjin could write a song about this and sing it to the thousands of people he performed for like clockwork. but no matter what the days ahead held, hwang hyunjin, your beautiful stranger, was all that he would ever remain, and you would remain as his.

•••

(bonus)

@hynjinnnn: 파리에 있는 동안 기차에서 이 사람의 모습에 반해 그려보기로 결심했습니다. 나는 그들이 그것을 좋아했기를 바랍니다. 언젠가 다시 보고 싶습니다.

i was enthralled by this person on the train while in paris and decided to draw them. i hope they liked it. i'd love to see them again someday.

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #pluto writes 📝

103 notes · View notes

punkascas · 3 months

Text

okay, so i don't want to, like, Start Something or whatever so we're doing a barely-tagged, separate post. i also realise this is mostly pointless because others have already said what i'm going to say, and did it better, with far more grace, and sound less like an asshole than i do.

but jesus louise helen christ, the weird fucked up ideas people have around abuse and personal responsibility and the effect of trauma. like as an abuse and csa survivor, it genuinely alarms me to read posts that use arguments i remember my dad making. like, i'm assuming most of this rhetoric comes from gen z — maybe that's inaccurate; maybe that's unfair. but right now i'm very much Having A Moment Here that the kids aren't alright.

no 22-year-old should be repeating the same awful, manipulative, logically and morally bankrupt justifications for violence and torture my dad says. like literally what's in the first two episodes of ofmd s2 is torture.

i love ed; he's an amazing character. taika is hella wowza top marks acting him. but like.

like.

torture, my dude. physical and psychological. trauma. harassment. that we see the lasting effects of through s2.

just. i. what??

so here we go, okay. have too many, zealously highlighted screenshots so i can dig into details.

cut to save your dashes. content warning for discussions of abuse and trauma (if that wasn't obvious), as well as spoilers for ofmd s2.

re: ed knew what he was doing was wrong and felt guilty about it at the time:

we have no on-screen, textual examples of this. not in the dialogue; not in the acting; not in the blocking; not in the cinematography or music. nothing.

knowing the crew are overworked and kind of traumatised by all the violence, ed bribes them with cake. because, as we know, cake like tea fixes everything. only ed wasn't even with them to share in the eating of the cake. he made izzy responsible for that. he doesn't give the crew a break; he doesn't choose less ethically-fraught prizes to hunt. there is not one scene of ed talking directly to the crew — until he points a gun at each of them.

we see ed crying (and drinking, and rhino horn-ing [way to help further extinction, man]) but it's always paired with shots or flashbacks that reference stede. ed is still all up in his feelings about stede, and ed confirms this when he tells frenchie the myth about albatrosses never needing to return to land. ed cannot go back, does not want to go back, because he was rejected. (like, stede is literally landed gentry, come on!) all he wants to do instead is stay at sea committing to this unhinged version of unstable, sadistic piracy.

but okay, okay. say we ignore all of that. let's say ed does feel sorry and guilty and ashamed of his actions. he knows what he's doing is wrong and unfair and cruel. that it's harming others. that it's particularly harming the dude that ed has, for better or worse, basically spent his life with (izzy; i mean izzy). ed… still continues to do the things! how far off are we at this point from the definition of malicious? you know action x hurts person b and then you do it anyway. is that honestly a better, happier, more ethically defensible reading of the character?

re: the crew didn't mutiny because they love ed despite his violent, sadistic actions.

mutinies were a thing, yes. but both historically and in the world rules established by the show, mutiny is disincentivised through threats, distraction via extra work, and corporeal punishment. we see both ed and izzy use all three of these to try to prevent the crew from disobeying orders. they didn't wait until the storm and izzy shooting ed to mutiny because they understood or sympathised with ed; they took the chance to kill him then because that was the first real opportunity they'd had. the reward finally out-weighed the risk given that ed was going to kill them all that night anyway.

again, we have no scenes, no dialogue, no visual or audio cues to tell us that the crew understands or loves ed — excluding izzy, obviously. fang could also be on that list, if you take into account his personality and his behaviour both in s1 and later in s2 in the fishing boat scene. but in the first two episodes, we only see the crew show trauma responses around ed. they talk about him but almost never to him. and when they do have a direct conversation with ed, it is either confrontation or head down, submissive, "of course, blackbeard; anything you say" placating. i'm so baffled where the show points to any sign of love from the crew towards ed before his "death".

re: ed can't be held responsible because he was suicidal.

uhm. no. hard no. a harder no than stede's brazilian cherry wood mast. fucked up people do fucked up things but part of being an adult is owning your fucked-upped-ness and not fucking up others while you work on unfucking yourself. children, children are not fully responsible for the impact of their actions on others when they're deep in their feelings, especially if they're feeling their feelings as a trauma response. this is because literally their brain cannot do that kind of control. it doesn't have that software pack installed yet. ed does have all the adult updates installed, even if he isn't running them at that moment. he has no right to take out his feelings on other people: to maim them, to psychologically torture them, to abuse them, to work them to exhaustion. to kill them. he does not get a free pass to do suicide by abused employees. (like suicide by cop but more indirect and passive and harmful.) talk about passive aggressive.

secondly, ed is not just passively suicidal and happy to find new risks that might end his life. he is very purposefully taking izzy with him (see: literally removing the bits of izzy that would help let him walk away from ed; the fact that ed becomes actively suicidal only once he thinks izzy is dead; the whole keeping izzy's corpse in front of his and stede's beach shack i mean inn — the codependence, she runs deep). ed is also putting the crew through the same risks, the same isolation, the same danger. both stede and izzy agreed that ed had gone full scorched earth policy. you don't get forgiven for the murder part of a murder-suicide pact just because of the suicide part. not to mention that no one (once again, you could potentially argue izzy as an exception) was good on a murder-suicide pact with blackbeard.

and then to say the crew felt guilty? i assume i'm misreading that. the crew. felt guilty. for ed's actions. that is, if not victim blaming and if not darvo, a very close inbred cousin of them. like hapsburg jaw inbred close.

re: ed healing and his view of himself as a monster.

to heal means, in part, to accept responsibility for the harm you've caused, whether it was intentional or not. it means making amends. it means building or rebuilding relationships where possible. it means putting the other person or persons' feelings and boundaries and need for safety above your desire for absolution or forgiveness. it means working through your own guilt and shame and anger (or whatever drove you to act the way you did) in a separate space, not with the people you hurt, but someone who can be a step removed, more impersonal and objective to help you reflect and face hard truths as needed. i say this as both someone involved in activism and community reparations and as an abuse survivor who has done nearly 30 years of therapy learning this in order to not hurt people. it's not ed's fault he's fucked up just like it isn't my fault i am. but it is on me, like it is on anyone, to make sure i limited as much as possible the harm i can cause to others because i learned some awful but very effective tricks at a young age to survive.

ed does not really do any of the above. he doesn't say "sorry". he speaks in generalised language. he complains about the cat bell (which he seems to wear only for one day, given the implied timeline with lucius and pete's engagement). i have a model ship on a stand that says "this is a safe space ship" as a joke because i work for the government and have written press releases that sound just like ed's "apology". where you take no responsibility and encourage "the culture" to move on.

so, really, my question becomes: ed sees himself as a monster. in s1, we had enough balance between ed's current actions and his referenced past actions to see this belief as likely untrue. in s2 though — i mean, is it? is that an unfair or inaccurate belief? i can understand how carrying that belief can get in the way of ed's growth and eventual healing but like. from an outside perspective of ed-the-fictional-character. he's not a "good" person. he's capable of and has done and continued to do horrible, cruel things. ethically, can you argue with that statement about him?

re: ed trying to destroy relationships because of his self-worth issues and instead the consequences of his actions proving that he's loved.

this is the point that made me go: right, no, i need to respond. i need to say my piece about this. izzy and the crew suffering ed's violent tyranny and then sticking around on the revenge anyway afterwards is not a sign of love. it is not showing love to bear pain for someone. it not showing love to let someone mistreat you, threaten you, hurt you, maim you. their actions are selfish and done to give them feelings of power and control over you. lying back and thinking of england to get through it is not love. it is absolutely a survival technique. but it is not love when you do it at the expense of yourself or others.

i also disagree that ed was trying to push people away or break his relationships with others. we know from s1 that ed is fairly blasé about whether crew members die. again, we don't see any friendly or intimate exchanges between ed and any of the crew to imply any kind of relationship there beyond "tools who accomplish ed's goals". the one exception, as always, is izzy. and as previously stated, ed seems bound and determined, in a very conscious way, to bring izzy into death with him. ed does everything in his power to make izzy want to kill ed, or at least agree that it's best if ed dies, and to want to kill himself so ed doesn't have to die alone. that isn't ed breaking that relationship; it's making it permanent in a really fucked up shakespearian way. the only relationship we see ed waffle between wanting to keep and wanting to push away is stede. after his corporate "apology" and the fishing trip with fang, all of ed's dialogue is with stede and a little bit with zheng until izzy's death scene. the crew loving ed just isn't a thing, at least not one we're shown. not from either side. ed's relationships are with stede and kind of, sort of with izzy (because he does manage to, if not fully break, do some major damage to that).

love did not save ed. ed wanting to live, because stede came back, because he didn't want to jump off hornigold's cliff in the first place, saved ed. izzy saved everyone else.

so yeah: that's it; that's the post. the rhetoric that abuse is love or that abuse can be "cured" with love or that trauma isn't lasting and serious and has impacts on people's daily lives is just. wild. wild.

and terrifying.

my dad was born in the 40s. why is anyone born in the 80s or later still defending this mindset? it honestly, truly freaks me out.

guess it's good i have a fucking therapy appointment on monday.

#ofmd critical #ptsd problems

103 notes · View notes

ofaatuu · 3 months

Text

Similar

Ronal x Tonowari x poly!reader

part 4! Part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here.

it’s been so long I’m so sorry guys I got super duper busy with work, but I’m back! Words spoken in blue is spoken in Navi. And words in this is basically you talking to yourself.

You heard norm and max bickering over some bs while you were eating your breakfast when you get a call from Jake. “this is Y/n speaking, what’s up Jake?” You say answering the call, “hey y/n are you guys checking up on Kiri today?” You sigh “not sure why what’s goin on?” “She said she’s been having some weird dreams lately and I was wondering if norm and max can come check up on her.” “Got it, bye.”

“Normmmm, Maxxxxx.” You say while walking the halls of the lab, you enter a room and see them standing next to your avatar. “What Y/n.” “Jake wants a checkup, sayin Kiris having some weird dreams.” you mumble out while cleaning the inside of your nails, “alright we’ll get ready we’re heading over soon.

You wake up and find yourself in your avatar. As you head over to your beloved aircraft you see norm and max loading equipment in and offer to help. “Yeah actually thanks, can you go grab the rest of the stuff in the lab room?” “Got it.” You run to grab it and run back. As you’re setting the stuff in the aircraft your stomach starts to bubble with nerves, you haven’t seen Ronal or Tonowari in a few weeks and it’s nerve wrecking seeing them again. Ronals big yellow eyes.. Her thick course hair, don’t get me started on Tonowaris hair, you think about his big ass arms and beautiful tattoo work on them. Just like yours, when you were 18 you decided you wanted a tribal tattoo just like your father and got it as soon as you could. After thinking and snapping out of your haze, you jumped into the front pilot seat and asked the two nerds if they were ready, they replied yes and you started the aircraft named “Mahina”, by you of course and took off.

As soon as you got their multiple navis gathered, still very interested in the aircraft after years of seeing it. You unloaded things for Norm and Max set it into Jake and Neytiris mauri. You felt the same set of burning eyes on the back of your head, but didn’t look back yet. “Hey guys, how’s everything?” You ask trying to make conversation because it’s too quiet.. “good, what about you Y/n?” Jake replied seeing what you’re trying to do and giving into it. “Could be better.” like sleeping..

You then turn around and see Ronal. You smile nervously at her, just like how you did when you first ever met her. You walk over and greet her, “Hello Ronal, how are you?” You say trying not to make eye contact with her big ass eyes.. kind of hard to do, “Demon, it’s been long, where have you been? How’s that big cut on your shoulder? Have you been growing your hair? Are you staying the night here at the reef again? “Do you wish to sleep in our mauri?” Your eyes widen as you’re bombarded with so many questions, “woah slow down tsahik, yes it’s been awhile. Yes I’m staying here for awhile, me and my partners need to stay for kiri due to her dreams being a long-lasting test their running. And I am growing out my hair thank you for noticing.” She notices your gaze is focused on her nose and not her eyes. “Demon is something wrong? Why will you not look me in the eye?” “It’s nothing Ronal, how’s Tonowari and your children?” “Their fine, come to my mauri let me look your gash.” As you’re walking to her mauri you start sweating, this is so nerve wrecking and you don’t know why. As your getting checked you hiss due to her pressing on the gash, which turned into a scar very quick. “The paste worked. I told you it works on everyone.” you continue to talk to her as you hear the mauri flap being opened by no other than Tonowari, “Hello syulang.” great another reason to sweat even more.

translations; Mahina; Moon, Syulang; flower

ughhhh it’s been so long since I wrote, sorry if this was rusty. tag list! @sakuuo @zoexme @ellabellabus07 @yeosxxx @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @ratchetprime211 @musictheatrenerd16 @unicornicopia1 @manumanulau @belos-simp69 @weepingwhitchofthewest

#x reader #atwow #avatar #jake sully #ronal #polynesian

74 notes · View notes

margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

The Morning After

pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mature, mentions of sex, foreplay, basically two horny newlyweds

a/n: here’s my first lil Benny snippet! There is a bigger, filthier one on the way but I saw this post by @lul and just had to write this- hope you enjoy! do get in touch to be added to my taglist🖤

tagging: @faye-tale

masterlist | fandoms | rules for requesting

The morning of your first full day as Mrs. Benedict Bridgerton, you awoke to the sun streaming through the window of your bedchambers and the sound of charcoal scratching against paper. Eyes still closed, you stretched your arms out, moaning softly at the sensation of your muscles waking up.

As your eyelashes fluttered open, you found your husband sitting in the corner of the room watching you, the grin on his face unbelievably bright and handsome as he noticed you’d finally awoken.

“Good morning, husband…” you said, sitting up slightly and holding the silky blanket up to your chest with a slight blush. You were still naked from last night, when you and Benedict made love for the very first time, and while you’d certainly crossed the boundary of being nude with each other, you weren’t quite so bold as to just sit there with your breasts out (much to Benedict’s vehement disappointment).

“Good morning, wife.” He responded, his morning voice huskier than you’d ever heard it. It caused your heart to race and a tension to make itself known right in the place Benedict showed you felt oh so good last night.

Your mind wandered to those moments, entangled with your husband so wickedly yet so lovingly at the same time. He’d been so gentle, made you feel things you didn’t know you were even capable of feeling. Thinking about all of it while watching a shirtless Benedict wipe the charcoal off his hands with a cloth caused your core to twitch in a way you’d never felt before.

You knew you wanted him.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, your eyes wandering the floor to find wherever Benedict discarded his shirt in your shared passionate frenzy. Luckily, it was right beside your side of the bed, so you could grab it and wrap it around your body as Benedict told you he slept fantastically with you beside him.

“And you, my love?” He responded, never once taking his eyes off you, his gaze intense and… hot? Yes, you felt very hot under his stare.

Bare feet touched the cold wood of the floor as you slipped out of bed. Benedict’s shirt was huge on you, falling to just underneath your dainty cheeks.

You walked towards his chair, trying to think of something as seductive and sexy as Benedict so effortlessly looked right now, but you weren’t so experienced as that and chickened out, telling him you slept wonderfully.

Your blush felt furious as you got closer to Benedict, fearlessly sitting yourself in his lap and draping your bare legs over the side of his chair. You weren’t wearing anything other than his shirt and could feel a moisture pooling between your legs that you tried not to get onto Ben’s breeches, not yet knowing how insane that would make him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as Benedict’s hand landed on your back, fingers running up and down your spine.

“So, darling… what shall we do on our first day as man and wife? Promenade? I could take you out for a boat ride or we could have a picnic out in the garden or…” Benedict trailed off as he scanned your features. You tried so hard (in vain) to suppress the cheeky grin that was dominating your lips, but Benedict had noticed and tilted his head.

“And what has you so amused this fine morning, my dear wife?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes coyly as you tried your absolutely hardest to form the words. You had only been introduced to this world of pleasure and freedom for a few hours, most of which you were asleep for, you were hardly ready to beg for it.

“Nothing, I was merely thinking about how lucky I am to finally be your wife.” Not a complete lie, as you had been thinking that non-stop since the priest had pronounced it so, it just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind right now.

“As lovely as that is, I believe I am the lucky one. Just look at you, so beautiful… my beautiful wife…” Benedict never once looked away from you, the free hand not holding your back reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb ran across your bottom lip, still wet from when you bit it

The two of you were so close you could smell him, feel his heart beating against you with the same ferocity you felt against your own chest. His thumb was on your lip, but you felt it everywhere, as if there was a rope tightening between your core and his touch. Your lips parted, your breath hot. You were practically panting, wanting so badly to find the courage to ask him to take you to the bed and fuck you until all you could do was scream his name.

Benedict had caught onto your desires. How could he not, with you almost drooling down his hand? You’d be surprised if he didn’t feel the wetness running down your leg onto the fabric of your trousers, despite your best efforts. He leaned closer to you, his thumb now the only thing between your lips and his.

“Tell me what you want, wife…” he whispered, seductive and demanding and quite possibly the sexiest thing you’d ever heard in your life. You ached for him to touch you, to grind against his hand chasing that crescendo you found three times last night.

You couldn’t seem to breathe, nevermind speak, nevermind beg, your tongue peeking out from behind your teeth to make contact with Benedict. He tasted metallic, probably the charcoal residue from the sketch but you didn’t care. Before you even knew what you were doing, you had slipped Benedict’s thumb into your mouth.

You saw his breath catch in his throat, clearly not expecting such an act of you. His lips parted and his eyes darkened, even more so than before as you started with a gentle suction. You weren’t even trying to be seductive, you honestly just needed to feel the pressure of him against your lips, even if just his thumb.

Against your hip, you felt Benedict harden, which he told you meant he wanted you- no, needed you, he had said. Knowing this sent you wild, suckling harder as he slipped a second finger into your mouth. Your hip bucked before you could stop yourself as you felt a jolt of need and borderline electricity travel down to your clit.

Benedict looked down briefly and you noticed the slick patch of wet on his breeches where you were sitting. Your blush turned crimson, but the delight in your husband's eyes at the sight of you reassured you that this was exactly what he wanted.

“My beautiful wife…” he repeated, his free hand snaking down your back and holding your hip, readjusting your stance so that you were riding his thigh, “my beautiful, wanton wife…”

Fingers gripped into your thigh and you felt the friction of Benedict’s breeches against you as he guided your hips up and down. You moaned, muffled by two fingers which then became three.

“Perhaps no promenade, then…” He removed his thumb from your mouth with a ‘pop’, while the two remaining fingers hooked around your bottom lip, opening your jaw enough that Benedict could replace his fingers with his tongue.

He scooped you up into his arms, taking only three long strides to get to the bed and lay you down, his whole length covering the whole of you as he started what would become the entire day's activities.

And the two of you didn’t promenade for three whole weeks.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #margofiore

2K notes · View notes

haet-sal · 9 months

Text

A File For Junhui//a Jun x reader

TAGS: Jun x fem!reader, fluff, SMUT included near the end, Seungkwan+Seungcheol features somewhat, a whole meant-to-be sort of love

Synopsis: when concert-pianist-in-training!Jun found your music (before he even found out you went to the same university and in the same major) he wished to himself, damn. I wish somebody loved me like that. But what does he know—all those songs were literally, I mean literally, all about him.

W.c.: 12.2k

Warning: basically bullying and Y/N is really INSECURE about her looks, ONESHOT NO PART 2!!! Jun might feel a little OOC but you should imagine the stage performer!jun, not irl shy jun!!, SMUT+PIV

Excerpt: “These are songs I wrote without lyrics…” you explain slowly. “They all mostly sound the same, please don’t look, it’s embarrassing—oh and that—” you point at the file Jun was reaching for— “that’s my lovesongs folder.”

Oh, wait.

“Um—Wait!”

Jun had opened the file up, and your heart shoots through your chest, beating wildly. You wanted to scream, curse, something, anything, just wish this moment away—

All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. Bloody rushing like crazy to your head, in a frenzy.

You named the folder, in your stupid head that thought no one would ever see these: A FILE FOR JUNHUI.

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

“What does the name mean? 1096? What does it mean?”

“Who cares, Seungkwan? You want the song for your project or not?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan huffed, “I do. But I deserve to know what all the titles mean—your titles are always so cryptic.”

You stare the boy down, eyebrows furrowed. A stronghold against giving away what the title meant. “That’s what artists do. Good artists. Keep asking me questions and I’ll stop lending you my songs for your vocal projects.”

“Jeez, Y/N, I need them,” Seungkwan said in the whiniest, babiest tone you've ever heard. “The feedback’s amazing when I sing original songs.” Feeling like he had to brown-nose a little, he added: “Especially when they’re as good as yours.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright. I’ll email you the full audio file later.”

“Are you really not going to tell me what the title means?”

“It’s…” you sigh. Seungkwan’s two warm brown eyes are watching you intently. He really wants to know, but if he found out... “It’s embarrassing.” You leave him without an answer.

But at this point what about your life wasn’t embarrassing?

Case in point: 1—You didn’t even have to go that far back to see it. Last night your roommates Chungha and Jia went out to the club, or bar, or wherever kids like going these days, and came home each with a man behind her. You met the two in the kitchen, where you were just pouring yourself some warm milk.

In your pajamas.

You came face-to-face with the two girls, and their accompanying men, Chungha wearing a sequinned minidress that probably costs four times your nicest dress and for even less fabric; and your other roommate, Jia, was wearing jeans and a fake ostrich feather top. She looked amazing. They looked amazing.

You were in your pajamas. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t that big of a deal because it was 1 am in the morning, but all you were thinking at that moment was, y/n, you fucking idiot. If you dressed like them, if you went out like them, you could be getting laid right now. You wouldn’t have to cry about being ugly or feel like you’re utterly undesirable or curse your entire existence—if you’d just dressed in sequins and ostrich feathers.

If you knew how to dress. If you knew how to walk. If you knew how to smile. But it didn’t matter now. The two men had the munchies. They tore open a box of cookies you were keeping for yourself, some fell on the floor. Shaky drunken-slash-high hands. The four people stared you down; if they hadn’t maybe you could have told them the cookies were yours. One guy was picking them up and eating them from off the floor. Jia was halfway through screaming something at you. You slowly backed out of the room with your warm milk, and thought more about your situation when you were alone in your room. Maybe if you knew how to dress, if you were interested in the things they were interested in, maybe you’d get along with Jia and Chungha. Maybe you’d be happier. But you were too… you knew the word. You just couldn’t say it. One of many words that had been hurled at you for years. Ugly, unlovable, weird. All those words that applied to you when you were little and didn’t stop applying to you. They swam around in your head and followed you into your dreams.

Case in point: 2—the things you let your roommate do to you every morning.

Picture this scene, every morning: Chungha’s already dressed. Jia’s in the bath, but she’s locked the door so you can’t even get in to brush your teeth. You’re waiting outside the door.

“Jia, can I come in yet?” That’s usually what you open with. Which is usually met with a “mmm!” or “just a minute!”

A minute turns into 3. You’re waiting in your bathrobe, you can’t just go to school like this and she knows it. She’s the reason your first period lecturer hates you so much, but ‘my roommate was hogging the bathroom’ becomes a stupid excuse, and also entirely your own problem.

“Hey, Jia? I really need to shower,” you’ll try again, knocking on the bathroom door. Which usually makes her mad.

“I’m using it, Y/N, don’t be a fucking bitch.” She usually snaps this in such a biting tone.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I just…” you trail on and on. One time, you heard her snicker in there. She was on the phone.

“Yeah, I’m just making her late on purpose. I fucking hate her…”

You’d have thought by college the mean high schoolers would have matured, but Jia was a curse in the flesh. She was never going to give up tormenting the weird kid. It was very unfortunate you had to live with her.

Jia wasn’t all bad, though. She would come out of there, when she needed to get to her classes. Which makes you about 15 minutes late to your first lecture, even when you hurried up in the bathroom with all the time you were given. In conclusion, you were a loser and an embarrassment and you know everyone, including Chungha, was waiting for you to stand up to her, but you just couldn’t. In a way, you kept believing you deserve to be pushed around like that. For being ugly, for being weird. Whatever complex that was.

Case in point: 3—you’re crying writing songs in your room dedicating it all to one person. Wen Junhui, who lived in the pianists’ conservatory, eating and breathing Beethoven for a living and not knowing that you existed, at all.

You thought maybe you liked Jun the way that 12-year-olds made fanpages about BTS, or gave valentine’s gifts to the most popular guy in class, knowing he only dates seniors. He was just simply better than you in every way and you wanted to be a part of that, you thought that if maybe somebody like him loved you, you could start seeing yourself as a person that deserved love.

You’d met him before in person—you weren’t that crazy to develop a crush on someone you’d never talked to before—but like everyone else, the first instant you fell for him was when he played at the concert rehearsal at the conservatory.

You’re an idiot. You fell in love before he even played the piano.

It wasn’t Jun’s turn yet. But he stood to the right of the stage awaiting his turn, really close to the edge—sometimes pushed by the other students backtracking, and almost falling off, to which he reacted by regaining his balance and laughing it off.

A girl was playing Bach or Debussy or something or the other. Jun kept laughing. You felt something not horrible rise to the surface inside of your stomach, like inside of your emotions—and anything not horrible is wonderful to your brain, so you guess that this feeling was wonderful, perhaps even beautiful, something you had never felt before, just looking at the stage lights frame Jun’s face all the right ways: cheekbones bright, the bridge of his nose shiny.

You tell yourself okay, this is stupid, I’m not in love. But you knew if you kept looking at his face it would only take a few more seconds until you really do fall in love, guaranteed, so you averted your eyes, and looked down at his beige-pant-clad legs, and…

And he’s tapping his foot and his shoes are beige, too.

You didn’t even need to raise your eyes back up to his face, to that shy little smile, again. He was tapping his foot. Timing the notes. He was a pianist. That was suddenly so spectacular to you. This boy standing in front of you is a pianist.

So that was the first season of Jun; like fall, you fell. And then winter came and you found your feelings entirely unchanged, but pathetically so, because you were never going to make a move.

You always hoped to run into him sometime somewhere along on campus, but it never happened. But it was okay. You liked imagining that he was real, living his own life—and even if you both weren’t real, just two barbie toys being moved around in a make-shift campus, doll Jun was running his doll hands through doll books and it made you romanticize this universe of lack of autonomy more.

And his doll parts had been everywhere, sadly.

You hear about him kissing some senior at a town club, you see his best friend post stories of them partying. It felt bad, knowing he was so different from you and you couldn’t even change what you were. Which once again brought you back to the main issue: Jia.

It was one of those evenings where she had appointments outside, and you had the apartment to yourself. But you still couldn’t enjoy it, couldn’t just sit on your computer and mix tunes all day long. Jia’s voice nagged you internally, calling you every synonym of ‘loser’ in the book.

And even your songs were definitely written by a loser: ‘I told you I loved you/you made me swear/I’d never say a thing like that again’

You slam your laptop shut. Was all you did make dumb lo-fi music and then stress yourself out? Would it kill you to write an actual song that people actually wanted to hear; make people-pleasing music, instead of making music just to appease your feelings?

Deciding you couldn’t deal with just this anymore, you closed your laptop, and put a hoodie on so you could walk around the town.

Being that the town had both an arts college and a musician’s conservatory, it was impossible to get away from someone who had something to do with it. But the town center, where most students went most nights, was quiet, quaint, and always had street musicians.

A man was playing an accordion by the stream, in front of the lines of restaurants usually populated by kids on campus. The accordion music filled the entire night with its soft melody, and the further away from it you were, the more dreamlike it all seemed. Maybe you were right in coming out. The streetlamps were giving out a yellow light that the water reflected in golden flecks you couldn’t touch. For a long time, you just watched the lights and listened to the music—thinking, maybe you could add an accordion to your music. You’ve never worked with it before, but now you have an idea about it. An accordion behind a verse about Jun’s eyes, maybe coupled with some sax in the background.

Not that the song had to be about Jun’s eyes, you just thought of the first thing that came to mind. Now you feel embarrassed it was the first thing.

For some reason, as you stood by the bridge listening to the accordion, you were reminded of when you first saw him, when you were working with Jeon Wonwoo somewhere in the university. Jun came to pick his roommate up for lunch, when he was just a freshman and no one even knew who he was. Before he played at that Christmas concert and literally everybody in school developed a crush on him.

When you first saw him, you didn’t think he was a pianist. He had just come from practice. He talked to Wonwoo about whatever, and then he looked over at you, and asked if you wanted to go to lunch with them. You froze up on your seat. Pathetically, tears brimmed your eyes and you blinked them away—it was the beginning of living with Jia, where you had been treated so lowly that the smallest kind gesture was enough to make you cry. Jun saw that you got a little sad. He made a joke to cheer you up, with a smile. Instead of laughing or joking back, you averted your eyes at the ground and shook your head.

“I don’t think I’ll go to lunch with you guys, sorry.” You were hungry, but Jia made you feel like you didn’t deserve anything good. You didn’t know what to say, or how to act around Jun and Wonwoo. “You go, Wonwoo,” you said. “I’ll keep the counter for you.” Later you felt dumb for tearing up from the invitation when Jun probably didn’t mean it, he was just offering to be nice. It was stupid.

And then the Christmas concert came, and Jun played a piano solo—a 20th century composer, which you appreciated. It wasn’t the 400th Mozart piece that evening, finally. From the moment he got on stage, girls went wild for him ever since, Wen Junhui with the magic hands. And Jia… your worst enemy fell in love with him, and that was when you realized you were never getting anywhere with Jun. If girls like Jia liked him… what was even the point of trying?

Now, you walk around the campus, past the accordion player and the stream with its bridge and turn the corner to get to the restaurants. You fished in your pockets for money, for the accordion player…

You kind of wanted an ice cream at the parlor near the river, but decided to give it away to the accordion guy. You couldn’t spare another for the ice cream, so you decided to just go back home, get back to your room and tell Seungkwan you went out, since he's always telling you to explore the town. Technically you weren’t lying, you did go around the block.

Just as you were dropping the last of your monthly allowance in front of the (very grateful) accordion player, you felt watched. You turned to the street opposite where there were tables lined up at the front of one of many of the restaurants lining the bridge, and you see Jia, and her date. They’re both watching you.

You couldn’t see the man very well because the lights of the lamppost skipped over him and shined more on Jia, but he was definitely looking at you.

A weird, menacing look flashed through her eyes, and she said something quickly to her date, and while you were working on walking faster away from their table, she called you over.

“Y/N! Hey! Come say hi to Jun, you know him, right?”

Jun?

Jun Jun Jun Jun—

This can’t be happening.

Your legs carried you to their table, your brain must have decided to not be rude—it didn’t really consult with the rest of your body, because your heart was beating out of your chest and you did not want to be there, saying hi to Wen Junhui in your giant black hoodie that made you look like those slug aliens in star wars, and you were going to have to stand next to Jia, in front of Jun, which would definitely make him realize why he didn’t like girls like you that didn’t dress up or even look presentable. He was going to look at Jia and feel so lucky you weren’t the one he was on the date with.

“Hey,” Jia starts. “Jun, this is my roommate. Y/N, this is Jun. He’s training to be a concert pianist.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. Every time you see Jun from afar, you’ve loved that wide-grinned expression of his. You never thought you’d see it this close. You gape at him, wide-eyed, unblinking.

God, his smile is blinding.

Shit. Now you’ve waited too long to say ‘nice to meet you’ back, and it’s weird.

You didn’t want to say ‘nice to meet you’ because you’ve already met… be it a year ago. But now you realize you can’t point that out, because he obviously doesn’t remember you. You swallow.

Jia is cupping her hand over his on the table. You felt a pang in your chest, but just about, a small pain compared to how you were embarrassing yourself right now.

“Uh…” There it is, there’s your go-to phrase. Uh. Uh, uh, uh… “Uh Huh. Right. Good to meet you. I’ll get going…” You realize your hoodie’s not up and your hair is a mess. You were a mess. You pull the hoodie up until it’s covering all the way down your eyes. You look even more like a mess. “Bye!” You step off the restaurant platform, and run into the lamp pole at the side of the restaurant. “Ow!”

Fuck. Jun got up from his seat to help you, but you zap away from his touch like it burned. Now you were getting up and walking away, eyes on the ground like it would kill you to look up at the world. Running into the lamp pole did its damage: you were zigzagging along the pavement. Head down, so it feels like the restaurant and Jia and Jun disappeared behind you and never even happened…

Why did you have to meet Wen Junhui like that? Why did everything have to be this way with Jia? Only when you were halfway home you realized Jia is absolutely aware of your crush on Jun—she's heard you speaking over the phone to Seungkwan, she definitely has heard you talking about him… You realize she called you over to humiliate you, because she knew you would embarrass yourself in front of him. You feel like kicking yourself. Played right into her trap. Stupid, stupid… You felt like if you looked at yourself in the mirror tonight you’d probably cry. You needed to curl under your sheets as soon as possible, and forget about the day…

Back at the restaurant, your roommate cackled. “She’s so weird. It’s a pain living with someone like that.”

Jun frowned. “Was she okay?”

“Oh yeah, of course. It’s just always embarrassing to be in public when your whole existence is a mess.” Jia threw her head back and laughed, shoving a forkful of salad into her mouth. “You know those songs that Boo Seungkwan sings for vocal classes? She wrote them. And she has an album out on band camp—Wildflower Dreams? That’s all her.”

“That’s her?” Jun gawked, mouth open. “Wow…”

“Yeah, but she’s weird.”

“Eccentric musicians are cool.”

“Yeah, but… that’s like, outlandish eccentric. Y/N is pathetic, sad and weird. It’s different. And she’s not a real musician. I mean, can you call a spoken word poem over sad beat music?”

“What—what does she study?”

“Music production—who cares, Jun? I just wanted you to meet my weird roommate. I think we should stop talking about her now.” Jia grabbed Jun’s hand over the table, squeezing it lightly just to bring him back to the conversation. She suddenly had a pang of regret calling you over to the table; now she couldn’t bring him back to the conversation at hand anymore; Jun looked worried about you—she didn’t think he would care, but apparently…

“Jun,” Jia called, “she’s just some weird girl that doesn’t fucking know how to fit in. It’s not a big deal.”

Jun frowned, avoiding his date’s eyes. This was when she realized she really had made a mistake calling you over. “Do you… know what morning classes she has?”

Seungkwan performs 1096 privately to his professors and evaluators, although later all the students want to see the recordings, so the entire productions class was crowded around, you included, although you didn’t like crowds a lot.

Seungkwan pulls you aside as his voice surrounds the class through the lecture hall speakers. “I figured it out,” he told you.

You asked what.

“June.”

“June?”

“Tenth June, 96. 10-96. The only letters left are Jun. J-U-N.”

“You figured it out…” you started to laugh, a little light-hearted since you trusted Seungkwan and knew that he could never betray you with gossip or rumors. “Yes,” you told him. “Yes, Jun…”

Seungkwan raised his eyebrows all dramatically and looked over your shoulder at someone else. “Happy talking,” he says softly, and rejoins the class in the crowd.

“Hey.” Honey-voiced, too light, too airy, just soft and breezy.

Wen Junhui.

You freeze in the spot, and your own music sounds so absolutely grotesque. You had to delete it, start anew. Everything sounds horrible to you. You rip your gaze away from the class for politeness’s sake, and also because you really wanted to know what Jun looked like right now.

“I'm Jun.” As if you didn’t know. “We met the other day, but I just wanted to introduce myself again. Can you tell me your name?”

Um. “It's um - um - Y/N.” After a minute's pause, you add: “L/N.”

“That's cool, to put a face and a name to your music,” Jun gushed, but you started to doubt how genuine his enthusiasm was. Was he playing a joke on you…? What was this, exactly?

“Wanna talk somewhere else? People are coming in for their next lecture.”

So Jun takes you to a sunny little spot outside in the hallway, right in front of the window sill. You lean the side of your body into the wall, just looking up at him, thinking this is a dream.

“You gave away a full note,” Jun says absentmindedly as he started the conversation.

You thought he was talking about a note in music—did you make a mistake? “Huh?”

“The accordion man, back at the restaurant. You gave him a full note—not even a coin. I thought it was cool.” Oh, so he meant note, like money…

“Shit, how long were you guys watching me?!” you blurted nervously, then collected yourself: “uh… I mean, I like supporting those kind of people. Plus, his hands looked so blue and frozen…”

“Jia wasn’t watching you that long,” says Jun. “I was, though. You caught my eye.”

Probably because you’re such a freak, you thought to yourself.

“You know, Y/N, I was wondering… if I could play on one of your songs, if you’re working on a new album? If you don’t want my type of piano on the track, I can always harmonize in the back, I’ve done it for Jihoon’s stuff—”

“Hold up,” you say, pushing him back by the chest a little because he was getting way too close and the only thing you can think of was kissing him right there. “How do you even know I make music?”

“I've listened to all your albums on bandcamp.” You’re shaking your head, frowning. Hold up, what the hell? Jun went on: “I love the whole Daisy album. My favorite is Cherry—”

“That one? But that's so old and only like ninety seconds long,” you interrupt. And it's not even about Jun.

“Yeah!” Jun laughed. “I'll never forgive you for shortening my favorite song like that!” You didn't know why, but he was reaching over to cup his hand over yours, which was just resting on the length of the windowsill. Like the skinship was normal to him or something. You pull back, and he did too, with an apologetic smile.

You must be magnetic or something. His hand kept coming back up to hold yours. With the brush of his skin against yours—soft pianist fingers, but still calloused on some parts of his palm—you guessed from playing the guitar—against the back of your palm. You shudder covertly.

Jun started to hum the song, and you broke into a smile that you had been holding back for too long.

“Mmm, mmm, cherry, my cherry… everywhere the light touches, it shines, wrote you a poem with just two lines…” Shyly, he looked down at his shoes with a sharp breath. “It's such a pretty tune.”

You can’t stop smiling, because when’s the last time anyone’s ever treated you this nicely?

You gulped down saliva that wasn't there, a dry throat. You usually don't get complimented on your work, mainly because you refuse to show anyone, but… now, this was coming from Wen Junhui.

“You give Seungkwan songs to perform, right? I was wondering if you could do that for me?"

“Uh…” You thought of it. You knew you had to accept—or else Jun would disappear from view and you'd never see him again. You wanted to prolong this moment for a long time, for as long as you could get. Jun wasn't the type to care about people like you. You were the background to his stage presence, just a face in the crowd. “Are you free? We can go through my files right now!”

“Yeah, sounds good!” God, how can his adorable accent be so enunciated with just three words?

The walk out to the campus felt more spiritual like anything, like in Spirited Away or Avatar: The Last Airbender when they enter the spirit world—okay, those aren’t real examples, but that’s the closest you can imagine it to be. Because it felt like your feet weren’t touching the ground, and you were sure once you got to the gate, that if you grabbed the handle, your hand would go right through—your heart was beating fast, but in a way that felt numb. There has to be more adrenaline than hemoglobin in your blood right now.

Jun reached over trying to help you open the door outside, and the moment your hands touched, a string of electricity sparked between the two of you. Zap. You both jumped a little. “Oh,” he said, “sorry.” Once you reached a spot under a shady tree he demurely sat and watched you open your files, handing him headphones so he could listen. You pulled out the one you were most proud of: the music that had already been released online already.

Jun quietly looked through the files humming the tunes trying to get a sense of them, moving his fingers along to identify the chords.

“I’ve heard all these,” he says. “Do you have others?”

“But,” you protest, “they’re bad. I mean, not bad necessarily, but raw and unfurnished.”

“You know that’s what makes the songs so good, right?”

You gave in and handed him your other file of note sheets, mindlessly letting him leaf through it. “It’s my songs I wrote back in autumn,” you explained. “I don’t know, I just sort my music through the period of time I was working on, like sometimes 30 or so songs in one file. Like making an album, you know? I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever really sell whole albums, but…”

“Why can’t you make an album?” Jun asks.

“Well you know, I’m not… some pop star…”

“You could be.”

“No, Jun, I don’t… I don’t look the part.” The air turned awkward as you said that, you saw Jun’s forehead crease in a small frown. Right, right, self-deprecation is generally frowned upon… You swallow, trying to get rid of that moment.

“What’s in there?” Jun asked, pointing towards the other folders. You pull out the one the cursor is on.

“These are songs I wrote without lyrics…” you explain slowly. “They all mostly sound the same, please don’t look, it’s embarrassing—oh and that—” you point at the file Jun was reaching for— “that’s my lovesongs folder.”

Oh, wait.

“Um—Wait!”

Jun had opened the file up, and your heart shoots through your chest, beating wildly. You wanted to scream, curse, something, anything, just wish this moment away—

All you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears. Bloody rushing like crazy to your head, in a frenzy.

You named the folder, in your stupid head that thought no one would ever see these: A FILE FOR JUNHUI.

Fuck.

Now Jun was going through the audios, acting like he didn't see the writing on top of it, but you know it's exactly in his line of sight—you can’t even let yourself live in denial.

This was it, you thought, he's gonna think I’m a weirdo and he'll get a restraining order on me now.

Instead, he just asks:

“Can I play these?”

You lift your eyes up to look at his face, shocked by how… undisturbed he looked. You started to doubt he even saw the name of the folder, but you weren’t dumb—he had to have seen it.

“Y-yeah, sure… any one you want.”

“I've never heard this one before,” Jun says, gliding his finger over the sheet music. “Look into my heart, where flowers have bloomed, a song written about you…” He was reading out the lyrics, before he started humming along to it. You're filled with an emotion that feels like wholesomeness, you grit your teeth to resist it. It feels too good.

“That one's not released yet… I meant to, but um… I don’t know, just haven't gotten around to it.”

You’re tapping your foot on the floor as a way to fight the feeling from overwhelming you, but you can’t stop it, you could just start shouting for joy and embarrassment and everything else in between. You have never been more overloaded with emotions.

“These are great, thanks…” Jun neatly sorted the file back to where it came from, after pulling out the songs he wanted. “Actually, I wanted to ask you this, too—can you give me the audio file for Cherry? Just the rough drafts, if you still have those. It’s my favorite song ever, you know?”

“Oh yeah—sure—” you go through your laptop for it, and then Jun says:

“So, who'd you write it for?”

You freeze up. “Uh, one of my friends' favorite scents is cherries, so…” Online friend. The only people that could stay around you were the ones that couldn't see what a mess you were.

“Oh, shoot,” goes Jun, “I was kinda hoping it's about me.”

You froze up, slowly coming back up to face Jun, cheeks burning like they never had before. Your life was embarrassing, but it has never gotten this bad. “Why… why would it be about you?”

“I don’t know, what do you usually write your songs about?”

“Uh, definitely… definitely not about you.”

“For Junhui,” Jun read out, and you feel yourself cringe—toe-curling, eye-scrunching cringe. “Hmm. Common name.”

You stared down at your shoes for the longest time, trying to will the shame and awkwardness to go away. All the people you could embarrass yourself in front of, and it happened to be global campus crush Jun.

It’s Sunday, and you’re getting your work done for the school day tomorrow, when you hear your roommates leave. Today was one of the days you felt like interacting, so you went: “guys, it’s Monday tomorrow.”

Jia rolled her eyes, while Chungha started to explain that Sunday night was a promotional night, there were conservatory people there, and everything, and sensing their annoyance, you went back into your room.

In the dark of the night, you don’t hear your roommates come in, way past midnight, but you hear Jia’s sobbing.

“Chungha?” you spoke quietly into the kitchen, where light sobs were coming from. Jia lay there, draped over the veranda, howling in embarrassment. All you could hear was “and she’s so old! And ugly! How could he choose to dance with her?”

Chungha spared a glance at you, and merely waved her hands for you to get the fuck out of there—although rude, it was so you didn’t cross paths with the mean girl and make life worse for yourself.

“Come on,” Chungha was telling her, “he’s not even that hot.”

“He’s the hottest guy in school… and… he… has… nice… pianist fingers!” Jia says, speech ruined by tears.

You wondered if you knew the person they were talking about, although if your guesses were right, it probably was. You inched away from the kitchen, closing the door behind you, when the doorbell rang. The two girls probably don’t hear it; you open the door, not even checking through the peephole, despite the fear of assassination, or some creepy guy following the girls back from the club.

It’s Jun. It’s fucking Jun, dark-haired, tall, beautiful, Jia-would-kill-you-if-you-looked-at-him-Jun.

You actually get chills in some type of way as you look at him, and he’s not even looking at you. He’s looking over your shoulder, with a certain sleepy quietness in his eyes that told you he was buzzed. He rests his hand on the door frame coolly, and speaks with cocktail breath, “hi.”

He must be drunk. There’s no way he isn’t. The balancing himself on the door frame looks cool, but it’s also for practical purposes so he doesn’t, like, fall over.

“Jia’s crying,” you say, and realize she’d probably hate that you disclosed that information once it comes out of your mouth. “Shit, don’t tell her I said that. But I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Jun looks at you from the corner of his eyes, head turned a little bit away, and even though you like him you can’t risk setting your cruel roommate off again, not with now possessive she was about him.

He’s not speaking until he does. And that takes a while. Maybe he’s trying to get the right words out while simultaneously trying to not sound drunk. “I’m not here to see her,” he says, “I’m here to see you.”

What?

“So can we talk?” he asks, motioning with a slight nudge of his face to the stairs.

You look back at the apartment, where you could still hear his “girlfriend” crying. Whatever he wants to talk to you about, it can’t be good. He’s probably here to convince you to help him win her back, but you weren’t willing to waste any effort on reviving a relationship WHOSE HALF IS A GUY YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH.

“I…”

Jun says with a raised eyebrow, “you gonna say something?”

“Um, no.” That’s all you can manage. And a nice “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Which is rude at first glance, but that’s the kind of thing you made up your mind to say to him ever since Jia got all possessive about him.

Jun sighed, disappointed, but you started to think he had a side to him that Jia didn’t know—but you did. It was in the childish way he would tap his feet to music, or get excited about meeting the musician behind his favorite songs. It was the way he was passionate about piano, too. You saw things in him, things you wanted to keep to yourself.

“... why?” he spoke. You frowned, asking him to go on—but as quietly as he could, since you didn’t want your roommates to know he came to see you. “Why don’t you ever say hi at school? I know we’re not really friends—I don’t even make that many friends, but… I don’t know, would be nice if you had said hi.”

“Uh.” You couldn’t give him anything. You kept telling yourself you were a loser, that nothing was going to happen between you and Jun, and he likes your music, he was a fan—so that’s all what it was.

“Whatever,” Jun says. “I’m drunk, so I hope I forget about this. I hope when I wake up I still believe you like me somewhat still.” He turned his back to you as he walked away, and you stared after, hoping he’d look back. He didn’t. You left the door open even after he had left the building, wondering what it would have been like if you actually had articulated everything you felt.

“Are you okay?” your senior asks, one hand against the small of your spine—usually you'd be concerned by any skin contact, but you knew Seungcheol could be trusted. You never got a wrong vibe from him.

You nodded absentmindedly.

“Great. Listen,” he says, “I’ve got this big project coming up. And my professor’s evil, like he won’t go easy on the grades unless what I turn in is revolutionary. Plus I’m up against Lee Jihoon for this, so…” You blinked at him, not understanding. “Let’s work on something. Together. I’ll give you my lyrical experience and my senior tips, and you compose like Beethoveen for me.”

“Are you sure I’m the one you want to work with?”

“With your talent?” Seungcheol leans back and grins at you, the biggest grin he’s ever given anyone. “I’d be surprised you’re not always booked and busy like a ex-idol-group-DJ right now.”

You thought about it, just wondering what could ever go through Choi Seungcheol’s mind that he would say that. The senior noticed, too, checking himself for whatever he said.

“Oh. Do you not like the word ‘talent’? Sorry, I meant you honed your skills yours—”

“I don’t really have any skills, though,” you mumbled.

“What are you talking about?! Your indie band was one of the top rising stars of indie pop bandcamp, and the fact that you’re here in music production classes—you’ve got talent and soul, and Wildflower Dreams has a future—”

“Are you a fan?” came a voice from behind you.

You watched the lights in Seungcheol’s eyes change as he averted his eyes to look at who was speaking. “Oh! Jun!”

“I’m a big fan of Y/n,” Jun says. “If that’s what we’re talking about. Mind if I sit?”

You hadn’t spoken to Jun ever since he found your folder of songs on him, and, also, hadn’t called him to include him on your project. You knew he could play guitar beautifully. You knew it would fit your songs. You just… didn’t feel like you deserved him.

“We were just talking about Y/n’s music,” says Seungcheol. “I wanted to include her compositions in the new thing I’m producing.”

Jun froze. You think it’s a look of disdain and betrayal, but you couldn’t be sure. “You’re collabing?” Ah, now you’re sure. It’s definitely betrayal. As Seungcheol affirms, you realized you and the senior were both watching Jun as he went through a face journey, swallowing each word that comes to his mind until he finally settles on: “have a nice time, guys.”

Clearing his throat, Jun leaves your library table, shuffling away.

“We were supposed to collab,” you explained. “Right now. I guess he felt rejected. I should call him.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, clearly… Also he’s in love with you,” Seungcheol puts it flatly. He reached out his packet of snacks for you. “Cookie?”

“He’s not in love with me.”

“He is. You should definitely take a cookie—they’re store-bought, but one day I’ll get make good use of the oven in our dorm and—”

“Why would you say Junhui is in love with me? Twice?” you demanded, keeping your voice down to a whisper since you were in the library. “Like, why would you even—”

“Because he is,” says Seungcheol, “and it’s not even the dry puppy love type of love. He got jealous. He’s passionately in love. Expert’s opinion.”

You scoffed.

“So… will you help me with this grading test, or are you that busy? So busy you won’t even text Wen Junhui back?”

It’s rehearsal night where the conservatory students and the art school students mingle for a concert, and you see Jia looking around the chairs of performers, searching for someone. For you, it’s the opposite–you stare at your feet, hoping no one notices you. Not any seniors coming to congratulate you on your projects, and definitely not Wen Junhui.

The only person you wanted to see was Seungkwan, who was part of the vocal in the choir and waved at you excitedly and smiled whenever you caught his eyes. But other than that…

Jun was the first pianist they’d chosen; there were two. The piano is slanted on stage so everyone could see the musicians, and Jun was just… behind the wooden lid, in and out of side as he rocked to the music.

It was the only time you felt like looking at him, at a place where he couldn’t spot you looking at him or even stare back at you; looking up at someone who will never see you in a sea of other people. This was all you wanted to be for Jun, who shines like the sun on stage, a prodigy, a talent, something way bigger than anything you were.

There’s bouquets being given out to the performers after the show. You loiter; Seungkwan is talking to a whole bunch of your producer colleagues, including Seungcheol and Jihoon, who were the only people you knew. You were alone.

“Jun!” Jia’s voice was shrill as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. “Baby!”

Yikes, did you have to go through and see all this? You look away, pretending to walk away—the night was over anyway, but you were thinking of savoring the walk back to the dorm, while people like Jia had better things to do than retire to bed so early.

But someone tall was striding over to you, in a white suit, so fairytale-prince-esque as he gently turned your shoulders around. “Are you leaving already?!”

He hadn’t meant for his voice to be so loud; he apologized that he was just excited. Jun grinned at you. You wanted to lie, that Seungkwan or someone wanted you, but no one came to get you; you were forgotten to all but one person… unfortunately.

“If you’re not going anywhere,” starts Jun, “do you want to go on a date?”

You saw that he slid a wallet into the inside pocket of his coat; he’d been planning to celebrate after the concert. Was it just meant to be you? Or could it have been just anyone?

“Sure,” you say. “Are your other orchestra friends coming?”

Jun looked confused, almost like he couldn’t articulate that confusion, like a cat with its head tilted. Then he walks over to the orchestra people—”give me one second.”

After going around leaning over everyone’s ears and asking them to join, Jun comes back to you all straightened up, with a certain mischief in his eyes. “Bad luck,” he pronounces, “no one wants to come. Shall we?”

You end up at an ice cream parlor, one of the more popular date rendezvous around the town, and Jun swears everything is on him as he orders a large sundae, which melts more than he could eat.

You thought he’d ask you about school, music, projects, but he’s asking in detail about each of your albums.

“I always thought ‘marriage’ was about death, and like… ego death?” he prodded. “There’s a better word in Mandarin, but I just…”

“That’s too nice,” you tell him. “I can’t believe someone things that deep about my stuff…”

Jun’s sundae cherry looked lonely, and anyway there were two on two mountains of ice creams. He gave you one.

“I’m glad we’re alone, actually, I think I’d be too shy if Seungkwan or someone came along.”

Jun nodded.

“How did you invite them, anyway?” you giggle. “Well, I guess it’s good on your wallet.”

He scoffed. “You wanna know how I invited them?”

As you nodded, Jun’s hand (which you see now was kinda way larger than yours) slid out of sight to tuck your hair behind your ear, and he leaned over, whispering: “I went over, and whispered into each of their ears: ‘the girl I like thinks I want to bring other people on my date, so pretend I’m inviting you and shake your head.’ And then… they all shook their heads. I don’t know what made them do it, though.”

You looked at him, and he didn’t even dare face you this time, looking down at his sundae. His ears were red, which was quite a feat of you; although he had been the one that embarrassed himself.

You didn’t want to draw conclusions. Although everything he did just pointed to one conclusion. Still, you wanted to play dumb—until he straight up looked into your eyes and told you he liked you, full-on, no room for lies and games. Right now you just felt like a dumb girl going along with a devious boy charming you off your feet.

“Um…” you started, and suddenly, the salon bell chimes, and in walks some members of the orchestra, some kids that you knew by name. You wave at them, and they invite you to their table—you looked back at Jun.

“Do you mind if we go talk to them?” you asked softly. You were shocked to see him look a little embarrassed, more severely than before—he looked down at the floor, almost dejected.

“Oh, well, I was thinking if it was just us…” Jun looked into your eyes, and slowly started to stutter with his words, until he came to a stop: “... ah, forget it. Heh… I just… sorry. It’s up to you.”

“Why do you look like that?” you speak softly.

“Why do I look like—I can’t tell what I must look like right now, but it’s just… the face of someone who got turned down by someone they really admire.” He forced a smile. “I’m sorry, of course… you… wouldn’t think of me that way. I just really like your music, and thought you should know. I am down to help you in any way, though, which… you should be able to tell… I’m actually good at playing piano. Just tell me if you need anything.”

He smiles. And you were happy—he’d just affirmed everything you’d ever thought. Of course, like he said, he didn’t like you that way, it was just the music. Maybe it just touched him enough to delude himself into thinking he liked you, but… He didn’t.

You’d been led on by men a lot, so you think you know… But Jun wasn’t like that. Jun was genuine. But you liked the distance, still.

“You’re sick.” Seungkwan and you were working in a free practice room. Well, Seungkwan was working on his vocals, you were amateurly coaching him (because he didn’t dare ask for a professor to help yet). “Look at all these lyrics and all these song titles… You’re obsessed. And it’s not even hopeless, you might actually have a chance.”

You scoff. “He just likes me as an artist.”

“God, that’s what they all say until they elope.”

You slap his wrist with a ruler. “I am not getting eloped!”

“Wait… ‘looking at your eyes/ while I’m reading your pretty texts’... DO YOU TEXT HIM?” The question echoes through the empty room and you gingerly nod, kind of afraid of Seungkwan.

“Call him up,” Seungkwan says. “Right now. I don’t take no’s. Call him up immediately and say you’re down to collab.”

A minute or two of back and forth passed between you and him until you decided to grab your phone. This was what you loved so much about Seungkwan: he makes you step outside your comfort zone.But honestly right now if you embarrassed yourself in front of Jun you’d hate him. A lot.

Jun picked up on the second ring. You had given him your number the day you gave him the music files. He greets you cheerfully, “Ah, I was wondering when you would call.” You just stared at Seungkwan’s excited face, trying to not show any emotion or insight into what was happening. “...Should I not be so cocky?” Jun goes over the phone.

“Um,” you say, “Hey. Jun. I was thinking about what you offered, and, yeah, turns out I could actually have room for acoustics or keyboard in my new tracks…”

“And A BOYFRIEND!” Seungkwan yells out, and you immediately kick him with a swift rubber-toed sneaker.

“What was that? It was really muffled,” Jun says, and you could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Nothing,” you assured, “just… nothing.”

“If we’re going to do this, I’ve got conditions, though. I want to meet you,” Jun says. “I don’t want to work through emails—I want to see the creative process, and I want to work and fuel that process—you still want me on your album, right?”

You realized Jun talked a lot when he was excited, and as he rambled on, you look at Seungkwan to see him holding in his laughter. Ugh, whatever… Jun’s just a friend.

“And when you’re done with everything, you should come see me play. They call me Magic Fingers,” Jun says. It was clear he was saying it to be sexy, and you just sigh, not wanting to give in to the Jun fever.

After you’d said bye, Seungkwan spent the rest of the evening laughing and recalling parts of your conversation. “Magic fingers! Magic fingers—god. You kids keep me young…”

You stayed booked and busy at the end of the semester, working on your own projects while also helping Seungkwan and Seungcheol. With Jun’s tight schedules, you hadn’t been able to get together and do whatever you planned together—which, no, Seungkwan, was not happening. You considered maybe you’d work over the holidays, and plus, Jun had his school concert coming up where he wanted to be in the pianists’ showcase.

To be honest, Jun was the only reason you wanted to go back to posting songs for your own enjoyment on bandcamp again. He was the only reason you actually started believing you had fans. You really thought this day would never come, that someone might give you something to believe in about yourself.

One morning—a weekend, you wake up late and tread into the kitchen just wanting cereal. Instead, you found a well-dressed Junhui sitting there, tapping his fingers on the table, playing some symphony no one else could hear.

You almost fooled yourself into thinking he was there for you, but Jia comes in. Barging in all neon-lipped. “We’re going out, loser, did you just wake up?”

“Brunch,” Jun explained in just a single word, not saying more. As if it embarrassed him—you didn’t know if it’s because he’s talking to you, or if he’s shy about his relationship. You furrowed your eyebrows, unable to control your expression at all—Jia reached for his hand and intertwined it with hers, and you thought about how pretty her hands were, all manicured, fitting into his like that.

“Our moms made us,” Jia says, impossibly gloating so hard her face shined. “Jun’s mom is literally obsessed with us dating—she says our zodiacs are totally compatible."

Jun stood at her side nodding along, although he couldn’t articulate anything.

He didn’t need to. Jia may be bragging, but you knew enough. She was right, you weren’t. Not the right star sign, not the right element, not the right person. You never thought you had a chance, Jun was just your friend—and still, it hurt to have your friend choose your bully over you.

It’s a weekend. The two of them won’t be back until evening. And you, you had nothing to do except sit in your room listening to old lyric-less tunes you made until it maddened you.

So Jun and Jia are dating again, this time for real. You saw the couple kiss right in front of you, which you just stood by and watched so you didn’t look so aloof, but it didn’t matter what you did, Jia was always going to lay into you. She made a crack of a joke at your expense as they left together, and you didn’t know if Jun laughed but you imagined he might have. It’s not like he owes you anything, is it?

It was killing you, and to be honest, Seungcheol was right—you were worth something, at least your music was. And maybe… Junhui just wanted to use you for your talent.

When you check your text history, it’s always just Jun starting the conversations, sending emojis and stickers, acting forward about everything, asking you how your school work was going. You had always kept him at arm’s length, and still he managed to hurt you.

Maybe it was just how having a crush on the most wanted guy at school goes…

You finish 3 songs that day, which was a feat for you, and surprisingly, it’s all the ones you intended to feature Jun on.

Jun wanted to tell you he really missed you when he didn’t get to see you, and also, you did a good job writing the song for Seungcheol’s project. He also wanted to tell you he spent a total of 5 hours per day streaming your old songs on bandcamp, just because he felt like hearing your voice and you weren’t talking to him.

He thought at the end of the semester, well, I should just talk to her, whatever.

He wanted to congratulate you on the song with Seungcheol, anyway. The professor had been proud enough to share it with the students, and so he thought he should also congratulate you. Plus, he felt like no one ever got the song the way he did. What your songs made him feel was special.

He sat down next to you after class was over, just like the first time you talked, and said, “The collaboration with Seungcheol was so good. Everyone loves it.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean, I think I loved it the most out of anybody else ever,” he adds.

You were frowning, so he thought you were challenging him that he didn’t listen to it at all. So he started to hum:

“If I were a wildflower I could grow in the cracks of your front lawn/watch you smile for the girl you love/crush me under the soles of your boots…”

“It’s a love song,” Jun says. “It’s about complete devotion.” he listens to the tune for a few more seconds, before he can look up at you with eyes so full of what you assumed as pity. “The guy you wrote this for is really lucky.”

He doesn’t have a clue.

You snap your laptop closed, not sparing one glance at Jun—which he noticed and saw the hostility. “Yeah, well,” you say, “you wouldn’t have a clue about my devotion.”

Jun was frowning. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

You didn’t reply when he pressed for more from you, and you simply crossed over his lap with your sweatpant-clad legs and walked off on him.

He pulled you back by the arm. “Listen, if you think Seungcheol’s a better musician than me or you like him more than that and you’d rather collab with him, you can just say that. There’s no need to lead me on like you’re—”

“This isn’t about Seungcheol,” you say, “or it’s about Seungcheol for you. But not for me. You can leave, Jun, if that’s all you came here to talk about.”

“F—forget it.” Jun basically threw your shoulder off his grasp like he was shaking you off, although there was a softness to his voice like it was killing him being mean to you. With gritted teeth, you walked faster and faster out of his sight, cursing him. Oh, the things you were going to tell Seungkwan about him…

“We’re gone,” Chungha says with a laugh. “Don’t expect us back.”

“I wasn’t going to…” you mumbled in your usual unsure tone, but with a smile so you didn’t look so sullen.

Chungha smiled back at you, or was about to, when— “Chungha! Let’s fucking go!”

“Alright!” She shot you half a glance, fixed her heels, and trodded out the door.

Sound of their pink heels clinking against the stair tiles. And then the entire building was quiet. All the students in the building had left for that one party.

Not to be pathetic, but you always end up regretting every decision you made.

Why would Jun ever even like you?

You lie on the bed thinking of what Seungcheol told you, the sentence going over your head over and over again until you feel like slapping yourself or taking a ice bath just to get it off your mind.

Yes, Seungcheol had experience in everything: being a boy, being in love, being a boy in love, and yes he could have actual insight, but also, what could he ever know about what Jun feels?

Seungcheol might just be saying it to be nice.

You decided to play one of your songs from that folder, FOR JUNHUI, just to see if the raw audio needed retouches, but halfway through listening to the whole album you realized two things: 1) you had no clue how to fix anything—not even just in your songs, but also in your life—and 2) you were crying.

It didn’t help that your own songs were a representation of your own fucked up, boring, messy life, so you kept listening and crying and listening and crying more. Until you were uglier than you had started.

Somewhere through the night—-maybe 40 minutes after Chungha and Jia had left—the doorbell rang.

You weren’t expecting anybody, but it was also possible that throughout your sadness you had blacked out and ordered a pizza without the present you knowing, so you opened the door.

You never expected to see Jun here. The Wen Junhui of your poetic lyrical metaphorized musings, manifesting himself on your doorstep with tousled hair and a leather jacket.

It’s cold out. That’s the first thing you think. He should have worn a puffer coat. You pull him into the apartment.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded, sounding more fed up than you needed to be.

“Got bored at the party…” Was he slurring? You could understand him well but there was that tint of alcohol in his words.

“Jia isn’t here.”

“I know, I saw her at the party. I…” he laughed, and you see his flushed cheeks—definitely drunk. “I told her I’d bring her some booze and then ditched her. It’s whatever, I’m sure she’ll find some other guy… were you just lying in the dark here?” He reached for the light switch, turning it on. White light against your tear streaks.

Jun looked startled, like the sight shocked the liquor’s effects out of him. He gasped. “Are you crying?” Just when you were about to deny it, he stepped closer—or the closest he could get—and wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, you zap away from him at the speed of light.

“Why would you cry—”

“Jun! You don’t break into my house when no one’s around and proceed to wipe the tears off my face!”

There was a silence, which after a moment he broke with: “Well I didn’t break in, you let me in… But I can go if you want me to.”

“Please do.”

He was frowning. “For real?”

You nodded, taking a pathetic swipe against your cheek to get rid of remaining tear streaks. You really didn’t want to see him right now.

Jun turned to leave, only before he had opened the door completely, he looked over his shoulder. And shuts it. “Have you had dinner?”

“... not hungry,” you say.

“Well you still have to eat something. Let me make you black bean noodles, you know it’s a chinese staple—”

You were pulling at his sleeve before he could reach the kitchen. “You already know this apartment well, huh? From visiting her so much?” your tone was accusatory and you were quiet, but he heard you: there was little else to pay attention to in the cold dead night.

Jun sighed. “Why didn’t you call at all? Even if it wasn’t about music—you know you’re more interesting to me than just your music? I could just listen to you talk all day. Just sit somewhere and talk.”

“That’s…” you start, searching for words, “embarrassing.”

“I’m embarrassing?”

“You don’t want to be seen with me, Jun. It’s going to make everyone think… it’s gonna be embarrassing if someone assumes we’re… together.”

“Maybe I want people to think we’re together,” Jun blurts.

You know he didn’t mean to say it, because there was a red light of alarm in his eyes as he finished saying that.

“Yeah, but… you have Seungcheol sunbae, anyway, and—you like Seungcheol, don’t you?”

“No!”

“But you were working—”

“It’s just that,” you say. “Work.”

Jun sighed. “You know my whole persona is an act, right? I’m performing. I’m being this suave kind of guy that knows a lot about the world, but really, I just really want you to like me.”

“Why…”

“Not even I know that!” His head is in his hands. “I love your music. But you… I like you. Like-like you.”

You roll your eyes. “And you, don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

Jun considers this for a moment, and finally, softly, he asks: “who was that album for?” You lifted your face up to his, just to know what he was thinking. He’s not pulling a poker face, and his eyes were soft. But that big grin was nowhere in sight. “The unfinished songs that you gave me,” he continued, “The title of that folder—I mean, am I seeing things? If everything in that album is what you want to say…”

“It is,” you answered. “Yeah. It’s for you.” You felt like beating yourself up, because it’s so strange. It’s so weirdo freak of you to have written a full album on a guy you’d only ever talked to once, but you always assumed you were doing no harm in just using him as a muse… But now Jun might think different. He’s going to think you’re a stalker, that you—

He’s kissing you. Lips on lips. Tongue on lips.

You weren’t that big of a loser that you’d never been kissed, but you never actually felt this way being kissed before. The kind of kiss that knocks out every single thought from your head. You whimper, a sound from the back of your throat that easily escaped.

Jun pulled away. “Oh. I shouldn’t have—”

“I thought you were dating her,” you say. “I thought—”

“I thought you were dating Seungcheol. It’s… just so stupid… my mother made me go on a date. I was going to call you and explain, but then you just shut me off comple—”

You bring your lips to his again, both hands traveling up to his thick head of hair, and his own hands went to support you at the small of your back, the crop top you were wearing rising up so he could feel the vertebrae on your spine, inch by inch. He’s so close to you.

He asks which of those doors is your room. You grab him by the hand and drag him inside your horrible aspiring-music-producer-vibes room, which is, to say, messy, but he doesn’t mind. He pushes you down on the bed like he owned the entire apartment and kept kissing you, and you could feel his knees between yours, pushing and pushing.

You wanted to feel him, too, but all you could do was not objectify him and simply remove stray strands of hair from his forehead, staring up at him with utmost love. And he takes his patience unbuttoning each button from your blouse, and then pulling your sweatpants off you.

“That song you wrote for Seungcheol,” Jun says, “you don’t need to be under anybody’s feet. All you need to be is here. In my arms.” He kissed your neck, and you’re glad he’s too caught up in the feeling of your body that he doesn’t need an answer from you, but also, he’s right. Being in his arms just felt right. You’ve been daydreaming about him since forever, but you never thought you’d get to touch the thing you’ve been writing songs about. You reach out to touch him, and there he is, warm and real.

“You’re real,” you say between pants. “You’re fucking real.”

You feel his teeth on your breasts and his fingers on your clit.

You’re wet—you don’t know how you could get so wet when you’ve been wasting all the water in you through crying—and so is Jun’s mouth, as he swirls his tongue on your nipple, acting as if he were starving. It’s just body and body, hot, human. You’d never had a kiss you regretted until now.

Jun’s hungry for all of you and it shows. He knees your legs apart as his hands knead the skin of your thighs, and for a second just stares hungrily. You squeeze your eyes shut under his mercy—this whole night belonged to him now.

“Let’s see if you taste like cherries, baby.”

You feel his tongue on your clit and you ball up the covers in your fists, trying not to make any noises in case it scares him off.

“Let me hear you,” Jun panted into your flesh. “Don’t be shy.”

You simply make a mmmph sound, but once his tongue meets the spot in your clit that makes your whole body feel like it’s on fire, you scream. You had never felt this way before.

“Please!” you whimpered. “Fuck, Jun, please.” With every new height and sensation, you press your legs together, as if you wanted it to be over, and you could feel the sides of Jun’s head against your thighs, precious skin against skin.

Just when you thought you might release this burning feeling, which could leave you spasming and shaking, it stops, Jun’s tongue isn’t on you anymore, but his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself. It’s lewd, but you’d always wanted Jun this way. Loving you in the filthiest ways. For a long time you didn’t think he’d even want to talk to you, or touch you… but now he’s touching you like this.

“I wanna make you cum,” Jun says, “but not just with my tongue. I want us together.”

With his mouth attached to your neck and his hands kneading every part of you, you almost didn’t feel him pushing closer to you, crotch against clothed crotch, until you feel him against you, and he pulls away and stares, almost to ask for permission.

You pull him in and you’re crashing into each other, body against body, sweat against sweat. Your cores have met each other, and it’s so warm, a thousand sensations in one stroke of his hips, and you’re both letting go of the breaths you’ve been holding in, panting and moaning. You like his tired-out groans, there’s something so manish about them.

Once you felt you couldn’t keep the pace so regularly this way, you close your eyes and tense up, expecting it to be rough, but Jun brushes the hair out of your eyes, and you blinked. He’s looking down at you sweetly, and, with a soft kiss to your cheek, you feel him inside of you, slowly, unbearably hot and paced, the deepest part of you meeting the highest part of him, and you just mewl under him.

Jun compliments your eyes. Jun compliments your body. He calls every part of you pretty, up until the point where he couldn’t speak anymore because of the pleasure.

“Pretty,” he kept saying, “pretty, pretty…” His lips are on your ear when he releases, and you hear the worst of those moans, it sounds as if he were in pain. Like you put him in that pain, and it feels… good. What was making love but agreeing to hurt each other? You felt tired out and you feel the back of his spine with closed eyes and trailing fingertips… it’s real. It’s all real.

“My cherry,” Jun gasped. He kissed you, in a drunken daze, on the ear. You could feel his breaths and panting. “Everywhere the light touches, it shines...” He touched a spot on your forehead where the moonlight off the windows shone, and it made you feel all beautiful and made of light. Then he kisses your lips.

SMUT ENDS HER

You woke up in his arms. He was staring at you. You recoiled as soon as your eyes met—you weren’t expecting his to be open—and covered up your face with the blanket. “Ugly,” you say.

“Pretty.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead which was left uncovered. With one hand that was supporting your body from the back, he pulled you closer. “Breakfast?”

Just as you were asking that, something loud came from outside the door. “Y/N WE’RE BACK AND I HAVE A HANGOVER SO DON’T YOU DARE PLAY YOUR SHITTY MUSIC OUT LOUD.”

You pulled away from Jun. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I just slept with Jia’s crush—”

“I have a name, you know?” Jun didn’t even get to crack the full joke because you had flung his pants and belt at his face.

“Get dressed!” you hissed. “We have to sneak you out of here.”

“Why can’t we—”

“Jia. Will. Kill. Me.” You tiptoed to the door and peaked out, to find Chungha adminstering eyedrops to a very fatigued C. You glanced back at Jun. “We can’t do this alone. Get dressed, fast.” Without sparing Jun a glance, you waved your hands to get Chungha’s attention, and waved her over, opening the door just slightly ajar enough for Chungha to enter.

“Wait, I’m still changing—”

“Oh my god,” Chungha gasped.

Jun put his finger to his lips, eyes pleading. Extremely vulnerable, being that he’s only half-dressed right now.

You don’t even have a single inhibition in you to think.

Chungha closes the door behind her, treading lightly in your room. You felt relieved she discovered you, because you didn't want to keep this secret. At least now there's someone you could talk to about it…

Because Jun's here right now but you don’t want to count on it. You’re gonna need someone to talk to when he decides he’s more into girls like Jia and never someone like you.

“You were here all night with Wen Junhui?” Chungha hisses at you. “Woah, Y/n.”

You shushed her.

“How did you even manage to score Jun?” Chungha asked, and her tone was at first trying at keeping the whole ordeal clandestine, but slowly her voice raised and raised.

“Chungha!” Jia yelled from outside. “What are you doing in her room?”

“Just—She needs to borrow an outfit!” Chungha turned back at you. “Damn. So. Wen Junhui.”

“We need to sneak him out of here,” you whispered.

“Wait, why?”

“Yeah,” Jun added in, “why?”

“Because—” you say. “Because—Jia—she’ll make my life a living hell if she finds out I stole her dream man.”

You look over at Jun and he’s frowning.

“I’ll distract her,” Chungha volunteered. “No worries, guys. Just sneak him out while her back’s turned to the kitchen.”

Chungha exited the room, and you and Jun stared at each other—or, Jun was staring and you wanted to lose the eye contact.

“You’re afraid of her that much?” Jun asked.

“She’s just—you should go.”

“You must have been really mad at me when I chose her. I didn’t know.”

“You should go, Jun, and you shouldn’t apologize for nothing…”

“If I knew,” Jun says, “that she hurt you then I wouldn’t have…”

“Go,” you say.

“I’ll make this right.” Jun pulled you in so you were looking at his eyes, and they were dark and warm, like coffee. “We’re going to tell her—we’re going to tell everyone. When you’re ready.”

He pulled on the extra coat he had on the previous night, and then stood up. You promised him you’d walk him to the gate, so you did, both slowly inching out the apartment.

On the way down the stairs, Jun kept looking over at you, as if he wanted to say something, but honestly you didn’t know if you could take an honest conversation right now.

You didn’t regret the night, but when you thought more about it, it felt like Jun had just been using you, or was drunk, or just—it wouldn’t make sense that someone like Jun would be into something like you.

“Text me, okay?” Jun says, even though from his point of view you were just one side of your face that had disappeared behind the magnetic door.

He said it so softly and shyly that you felt touched. “I will,” you say. “I will, Jun.”

227 notes · View notes