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dreamcatchers-husband · 2 years

Text

Renewed

Male reader x Itzy Shin Yuna

Length: 7400+

Tags: Virgin, Facial

A/N: i need to give out to @worldsover for Co-writing this story, the amount of help he gave me for this one is massive so make sure to thank him for this one and check out his stuff as well. I am excited to post this one, not sure how many will want to read it but thank you ahead of time.

The school halls had this grating echo, and you were glad to be gone soon. All your fellow students talked about for the past few months was prom this and prom that. Girls went on about the dresses they bought and the limos they rented; guys rambled about their promposals and afterparties. Right now, a group of classmates is loudly arguing about table seating. You couldn’t care less. The one girl you wanted to go with was already taken. Inevitable. Shin Yuna was the girl of every guy’s dreams, a stunning visual, a kind soul.

Inevitable too was the fact that you would fall for her, even if it didn’t start that way. You were just neighbors at first, but then you became friends like no other. Considering how much time you spent with her, that friendship could only bloom into infatuation. So as the years went by, you held in your feelings, until senior year when you grew brave enough to confess.

That was months ago. You wanted to forget about it.

“Hey, Oppa, what’s with the flower?” Yuna tilted her head and of course, she looked adorable with such a simple gesture. “Actually, before you say that, I wanted to let you know something.”

“What’s up?” you replied.

“Well, I have a boyfriend now! I want you guys to get along.”

The flower might as well have withered right then and there as your heart did. Another guy walked up next to her and held her hand.

“This is Ryan,” Yuna said, “and I hope you guys can be friends.”

Safe to say, that did not happen. As her friend first, you tried getting along with Ryan but from what you heard, he seemed like the type to just date a girl and move on quickly, so you always had your reservations.

When you take your lunch out of your bag, you notice that you still have that flower in your backpack right now. You never bothered to throw it out, even as it’s rotting inside its plastic wrap.

“Oppa!” Well, there goes the peaceful meal. Yuna runs over to you.

“Hey, Yuna, what’s up?”

She puts a piece of paper on the table; you quickly recognize it’s a ticket.

“Yuna, I already said, I don’t care for prom. I don’t want to go, and I don’t even have a date!”

“Well… I found you one! So you will be going. I need my best friend at prom with me.” Yuna looks up at you with her famous puppy dog eyes, knowing your weakness and melting your resolve.

Your initial reaction to reject her becomes a slow nod.

Yuna jumps up and down in excitement. “Okay, so your date will be at your home an hour before prom. She will be wearing red so make sure to match!”

You’re brought to silence by her hyperactive energy, so before you can open your mouth, she’s gone. Looks like you’re going to prom then.

The next week goes by quickly: you get your tux; you find a tie that matches the red your date will be wearing; you buy a corsage with a red flower.

“I swear these things are a scam. I really paid forty dollars for a flower.” The worst part is that the red flower reminds you of something—you should really throw that thing out of your bag.

You stand alone at home waiting for your date to arrive. Your parents could not be at home to watch you go off with your date as they would be going on a trip with Yuna’s parents. What a coincidence. While they’re out having fun, you have to go with some other person and watch Yuna be happy with someone else. Yet here you are, enduring it all because of her.

Knock, knock, knock.

You rush toward the door—not too fast, don’t want to get sweat on your dress shirt. Then, you open it, finding yourself face to face with the rest of your friend group: Yeji, Lia, Ryujin, and Chaeryoung. You let them in, but you can’t get the image of one person out of your mind.

“Hey guys, what are you doing here?” you ask.

“We’ll be taking your photos here at home. Now turn around and close your eyes,” Yeji says.

You turn around and close your eyes as told, only leaving you with the sound of the front door opening again. Then, you hear heels clicking as someone walks up behind you.

“Okay, turn around and open your eyes in three, two, one!” Lia yells. At once, you turn around, making eye contact with your date.

The flower in red, Yuna. Her dress drops your jaw with how it hugs her perfect curves. As your eyes go back up, you focus on her lips, matching in vibrant color, turning into a smile.

Naturally, you’re dumbfounded. Your first reaction is a stumbling step backward. “W-wait, Yuna? What about Ryan?”

“Can we not talk about him right now please?” Yuna steps closer.

After you carefully place the corsage on her hand, trying your best not to get sweat on her, she puts a boutonniere on your tux jacket.

“Alright, you two, let’s get some pictures!” Ryujin yells.

You and Yuna stand next to each other and smile at the camera. Even in the corner of your eye, you know her smile is dazzling; meanwhile, all you want is to avoid looking like a nervous wreck. Luckily, you do get the courage to at least hold her waist.

After a few clicks of the camera, Chaeryoung speaks up, “Hug her from the back! It’ll look amazing in the photos.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth between Chaeryeong in front of you, Yuna next to you, and the floor below you. Though Yuna has a subtle blush, she nods in approval, so you get behind her and wrap your arms around her waist. The group continues to take pictures, but you’re not focused on that at all. Not wanting Yuna to notice how fast your heart is beating, you leave a sliver of space as you hug her.

You can only let go of your deeply held breath when Lia gives you an OK sign.

“Alright, we’ll be heading home,” Lia says as the other girls put away the cameras.

Yeji pushes the two of you out of the door toward the limo. “Have fun at prom!”

“Did I just get kicked out of my own home?” you ask.

Yuna giggles. “Oh, they’re probably gonna go to their own party later. Come on, let’s go!”

Reaching out your arm, you offer it to Yuna who grabs on as you make your way to the waiting black limousine. You both step inside, immediately amazed at the luxury of the interior. You’ve seen limos in shows before, but that doesn’t compare to the actual experience—sitting on leather seats with legroom for days, unlimited (soft) drinks in fancy glasses, the atmospheric lights. Though the two of you are giddy at first, gushing about all the features of the limo, you both fall silent.

Can’t ignore the fact that Yuna hasn’t let go of your arm.

“Dad got the limo for us. It was supposed to be for just me and…” Yuna trails off, still holding on to you. Maybe it isn’t as big of a deal for her. She’s always been touchy with people she’s close to.

“What happened?” You pull back. “Sorry, I know you don’t wanna—”

“No, it’s fine. I caught that asshole with another girl when I went to surprise him at his house, so I ended things on the spot. So when I had an extra ticket for prom, I knew I had to bring my best friend with me.”

Right. Best friend. That’s all.

You feign happiness anyway—but it’s not even that feigned since you’re still going to prom with the most beautiful woman at the end of the day. With a smile and a hug, you say, “Well, screw him! We’ll have fun on our own!”

Something about the way Yuna said that… no, you're imagining things.

After the drive, you arrive at the venue with its tall doors and architectural columns. The driver opens the door and you step out first. You help Yuna step out, and you notice all eyes on the two of you. You and Yuna continue to walk toward the entrance and hear the whispers:

“Those two? I thought she rejected him?”

“Wasn’t she dating Ryan?”

Once again, useless echoes. You pay it no mind. Finally, you enter the banquet hall, passing the photoshoot area as the music grows louder. Yuna spots the table, so you follow her. You’re lucky that you two get your own table, not needing to sit with a random group.

The night starts as food is placed out for everyone, some well-presented salmon and vegetables. Despite all the people in the venue, you only pay attention to Yuna's smiling and laughing. You both reminisce about school, notably ignoring the last few months. Finally, music starts to play again, and people get up to dance while tables are being cleared. You’re both sitting and watching at first. You were hesitant to join the crowd because of your two left feet. However, you promised Yuna a fun prom, so you get up.

“Come on, Yuna. Let’s dance.” You offer your hand, and she jumps up, then pulls you to the dance floor.

Fortunately, no one’s worrying about you bouncing and stepping around awkwardly since Yuna is killing it on the dance floor. Her impressive moves combined with her stunning beauty puts all the attention on her. Soon, she chills down with the dancing and gets closer to you as the crowd grows. Yuna grabs your hands and makes you hold her just as you did earlier during the picture but this time, there’s no space between you two. She starts moving seductively, swaying her hips, subtly grinding against you.

You’re shocked, but you go along with the flow. Spin Yuna around so that the two of you are face to face. She matches your huge smile.

After a few more minutes of dancing, a slow ballad begins, and more couples come out to the dance floor while everyone else makes room. You continue to hold onto Yuna and follow her pace. The deftness of her footwork doesn't surprise you.

To the side, Yuna’s ex is dancing with another girl, yet he continues eyeing Yuna.

“Hey,” Yuna says, grabbing your face, “forget about him. I know I did. This night is for us, Oppa.”

You look back towards Yuna, staring deeply into your eyes. Returning the gaze, your breath hitches. “Yuna, I just wanted to say thank you for even dragging me here in the first place. This really has been a night to remember.”

“Oppa, I should be thanking you. Honestly, when all that happened before, I got nervous about coming here alone at first, but dumb me didn’t think about you as my partner until much later. That’s why I surprised you instead. I honestly didn’t pay much attention to our friendship, and I want to say I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s ok, Yuna. No matter what, I will always be by your side.”

Left and right, she steps, and you follow. As you’re holding her waist, you can feel her heartbeat synchronizing to the same nervous rhythm as yours. Your faces naturally fall closer together.

Screech.

The music stops.

“Sorry about that ladies and gentlemen, we seem to be having some technical difficulties with our speakers, but we will get it up and running again in about five minutes, so go get a drink and get ready to keep dancing!”

The crowd moans in disapproval. Seems everyone was having some kind of moment.

You release your grip on Yuna and step back; the both of you are blushing.

“Um, I'm gonna run to the restroom!” you exclaim. You sprint past everyone on the dance floor and quickly make it to a sink where you splash water on your face. “What was I thinking? She would never want to be with an idiot like me. I'm nobody.”

You wash your sweaty hands and then head back out to the dance floor to look for Yuna, but after searching for a while, you can’t find her. Despite looking around the rest of the venue, you still can’t find her, so now you’re worried.

“Excuse me, have you seen Shin Yuna?”

Everyone you ask shakes their head, so you keep going, asking more people till someone points out the side entrance of the gym. You run towards it and rush out as I hear some noise.

“Ryan, please stop! You’re hurting me!”

You run towards that noise and see Yuna and her ex, who has both his hands on her wrists.

“Yuna, baby, I’m sorry. It was a mistake but we are perfect for each other, me and you.”

He then tries to kiss her, but Yuna pushes him away—not enough to release her from his grip. You rush towards them and punch Ryan on the side of his head. Immediately, he falls over, but you jump on top of him and keep hitting him. “What the hell is wrong with you? She said to leave her alone! How dare you hurt the woman I love?!”

You even get blood on your knuckles with how many times you punch him but eventually, Yuna’s hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Oppa, it’s okay! Let’s just leave.”

You’re still fuming from seeing Ryan put his hands on her and you’re ready to hit him again, but Yuna grabs your face and makes you look at her.

“Forget about him, let’s go home.”

When you see the worry on Yuna’s face, feel the grip of her fingers on you, you back away, holding her hand. Your breathing is heavy, though it slows down. “Fine. Fine. Home.”

Ryan lays on the floor in shock and luckily, the blood makes the scene look more exaggerated than it is since he’s okay enough to slowly try and get up. You keep your eyes on him, but when he collapses again, shaking his head, the two of you walk away.

You and Yuna head inside to clean yourselves up, then sneak out toward the front of the building to hop into your limo.

“Oh, you guys are early,” the driver says when you hop inside.

“Just take us home.”

“Of course.”

The drive back is silent with you just holding Yuna’s hand the entire time until you arrive home. After helping Yuna out of the limo, you tip the driver.

Once you’re inside, Yuna sits on the couch in the living room while you go and grab two glasses of water.

Silence.

You reach for one of the glasses at the same time as Yuna, and your hands touch, so you both pull back nervously. Something so simple as drinking water is made awkward by the tension in the air.

“Go ahead, you first,” you say. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so aggressive toward Ryan. But the moment I saw him put his hands on you, I just couldn’t hold it in. I couldn’t lead you.”

“I know you had my best interests at heart, but you can’t lose it like that. What if I wasn’t there to stop you? You could have kept hitting him and really gotten into trouble.” Yuna looks down solemnly.

“I know, I know, but I just couldn’t see the girl I have loved all my life get hurt.”

Yuna remains silent till she touches your hand. “You love me?” she asks.

This is it. Years of you holding in. Months of bad timing. It’s all brought you to this moment.

“Yes, Yuna. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you. I don’t even have to say how stunning you are, but you also had a heart of gold and stayed by my side all this time. I watched as you became the beautiful woman you are now, but deep in my heart, I just don’t know if I’m the man for you. But I had to tell you the truth anyway.”

Yuna remains silent yet never lets go of your hand.

“I’m not as popular as Ryan, or as handsome, I know that. so I know you would never feel the same way but I—”

Yuna plants her lips on yours, and your eyes shoot wide open, but you soon melt into the kiss, returning the passion that she gives. Sitting side by side on the couch, you both twist into each other and embrace tightly. You hold the kiss long enough that when you pull back, you’re both gasping for air as you look at each other.

“I felt the same way all these years,” Yuna says, “yet you never had the guts to confess, and well… neither did I.”

“What?!” you exclaim.

“The only reason I dated Ryan was because he asked me, and I wanted to try to get my mind off you. I thought you didn’t like me back either. Maybe you just didn’t notice my flirting.“

At that moment, you realize how much of an idiot you are. All the small things add up: asking for hugs constantly, visiting your room for late-night movie marathons, holding your hand for small moments.

Your jaw is open. “Wow. I am such an idiot.”

Yuna giggles and hugs you tight. “You’re mine now, got it?”

There it is again. That dangerously seductive lilt in her voice, a whole different side of Yuna revealed in a few words. Her hands climb up your back, landing on your head to pull you in for another kiss which you happily reciprocate. You both relax your bodies, though your hearts are anything but relaxed.

Once the kiss ends, you look at Yuna and nod. “And you are mine from now on,” you say.

This time, you’re the one pulling Yuna in for a kiss. Finding the position uncomfortable, she repositions herself to straddle you. Like hungry animals, your lips and tongues dance while you settle into each other’s bodies.

You open your eyes and retreat from the kiss first, looking at how cute Yuna is when she gets entranced by the kiss. Pouty lips, eyes closed tight. You stroke the side of her face and she opens her eyes, blushing. You grab Yuna by the waist and remove her from your lap. She looks confused at first, but it’s so that you can stand up and carry her toward your room.

After you open your door, you drop the giggling Yuna on your bed. You pounce on top of her and once again, latch your lips on hers, continuing the aggressive assault of escalating lust. Yuna’s hands may have started innocently, reaching around your neck to hold onto you; however, they’re anything but when they start to tug on your jacket and pants. As she unbuttons you, your lips travel from her lips to her cheek, down to her jaw, all the way to her neck. Yuna moans quietly, cutely at the pleasure. Through the sensual high, she manages to take your jacket off as well as your tie.

You stop the kiss. “Wait, Yuna. This has been an amazing night already. We don’t have to rush into this considering we are just now official.”

“I have been waiting for years and so have you. It’s ok. Let’s make this night one we’ll never forget in our relationship.“

Exploring into Yuna's eyes, you ascertain her sincerity, that she truly wants you. You pet her cheeks before making out again. In this kiss, your tongue pushes forward, and she accepts, parting her lips. When your tongue enters her mouth, you start to chase her tongue.

Yuna grabs your shirt while she starts to unbutton it leisurely. The build-up is killing you, but you don’t want to rush things so you let her go at her own pace. Finally, once your shirt comes off, you return the favor by intimately grazing her shoulder at the neckline of her dress. Your lips follow your hands, sucking at her collarbone while you pull the red fabric down. Yuna makes small moans, pulls you closer, and whispers in your ear, “Mark me as yours.”

To satisfy her, you add more suction, enough to leave love bites. Meanwhile, the tight dress hugs her curves as you pull it down, the cloth bunching up under her chest. Eventually, you focus on taking off the whole thing, so you pull away and finish taking the dress off Yuna. She’s left in just her bra and underwear.

At the same time, Yuna undoes your belt, then tugs down your pants, putting you in a similar state of undress.

Under your breath, you say, “Wow. You're so gorgeous.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” Yuna says with a smirk while pulling you on top of her.

Your kisses end up lower and lower on her chest until your lips are tasting the space between her tits. You can feel her heart sprinting just like yours. Reach around to her back, and you fumble with the clasp—nope—nope—nope, still not right. Of course, you have to mess it up at this—

Yuna boops your nose. “Hey. It’s okay.” Her smile is too sweet not to fall into. She bends her arms back to remove the bra herself, and the impromptu pose only bunches up her tits more.

Saliva from the corner of your mouth.

Slowly, teasingly, Yuna lets her perfectly-shaped tits slip out from under the bra before throwing it to the side. Though that move is confident, a blush grows on her cheeks, and she instinctively brings her arms to her chest. “Are they too small—”

Your mouth latches onto one of her nipples without hesitation while the other gets loving attention from your hand kneading it roughly.

Yuna moans at the suction of your lips. While she shifts around underneath you, you stay locked on her hardening bud, your tongue swirling around to taste like the most delectable candy. For every small motion, a couple fingers focused on her other breast’s nipple, a bit more weight on top of her. As she loses more of her control below you, Yuna finds herself grinding her crotch into your knee.

Her words are interjected by sharp breaths. “Oh, god, ah, that’s so good, ah, babe.”

At the new moniker, your heart sinks in the best possible way. You move to the next breast, noting how slick with your spit her nipple has become—you really can’t stop drooling, can you? Continuing your assault on Yuna’s chest, swirling your tongue and sucking, you reach for her half-soaked underwear while Yuna does the same to you. Just as she shimmies out of her panties, your cock springs out. Though it was achingly stiff essentially the entire night from the moment you saw Yuna in her dress, the sight of Yuna fully nude brings you to a new height of arousal.

No, wait, another height. Yuna wraps her fingers around your cock, and you’re immediately brought weak with a small moan and a shiver.

“Oh, does that feel good?” Yuna asks as she sits up, prompting you to pull yourself back. The two of you are both on the mattress, on your knees, face to face. She giggles when she sees your deeply-shut eyes, your open mouth, your shuddered breaths.

You try your best to respond to Yuna yet barely manage to nod. Despite just being fingers around your shaft, something about being her fingers takes the air from your lungs.

Yuna looks down, her big eyes even bigger as she stares, and licks her lips. She sticks out her tongue and lets a glob of spit drip down to your cock. It gets her hands wet, which gets your dick wet, which lets her stroke faster. Your own hand truly cannot compare, especially when she looks back up and gazes into your soul. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” Yuna says with a dangerously lurid whisper.

“Do wh—”

A mouth around your cock—now you can’t talk even though Yuna is the one physically rendered speechless. With her lips wrapped, she makes some cute noises and looks up at you, almost pouting on your dick. She starts bobbing her head hesitantly, unsure exactly how to keep her mouth open, when to go faster, where to put her hands. If a word could leave your mouth, you’d tell her to do whatever she likes because you’re in paradise regardless.

In and out, further and further. Yuna’s tongue sticks out, flat along the side of your shaft as if she has much more oral experience, yet with the gagging and clumsy pushing, it’s clear she just excels the most with her tongue dexterity. A mayhem of choked noises and sloppy spit despite Yuna only being halfway down your length; she doesn’t care about the mess at all.

You can’t say you mind either, but you do want to watch how her eyes bounce around, so you brush her hair out of her face. With your dick in her mouth, Yuna goes from sheer lewd intent on your crotch to loving eye contact, then back to naughty when she winks—probably due to your tip hitting the back of her throat. Needing an extra breath, Yuna pulls back while still leaving her lips sealed around the head of your cock. All her attention is at your throbbing tip as she twirls her tongue around the ridge, which takes the very light out of your eyes.

Too soon, you’re already reaching your limit, but can you expect any more tenacity for your first blowjob?

“Yuna, baby, I’m gonna blow,” you say weakly.

You tap her head in warning, yet Yuna doesn’t seem to care. She builds up more speed, more spit around your shaft, more of her tongue swishing around. The last thing you see is her eyes, wide as ever, then the tension unfurls. Grab onto the sides of her head, and you feel guilty for a split second. One, two, three shots of cum fire straight down her throat, as you cum like never before. When you see a tear from Yuna’s eyes, you pull back while your cock is still pulsating.

However, she grabs your waist and dives back in, plugging her mouth tightly around your dick as more of your load cascades out. “Ohhh, my god, hnh,” you say in shudders.

While you caress Yuna’s face, she sucks the last drops out before withdrawing of her own volition. She straightens up, smiles, and opens her mouth. An unfathomable amount of your pearly semen coats her tongue and cheeks, yet with the same smile, she swallows the whole thing. Yuna moans deliciously—“Mm, mmm”—then sticks her now clean tongue out—“Ahh.”

Deep breaths. You rub her shoulder while catching yourself and bringing yourself back to full awareness. “Damn. Phew. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I have plenty of toys to practice with. The amount of times I played with them and pretended it was you fucking me is more than I can count. I didn’t expect to like the taste that much though. Or to swallow that much.”

You’re shocked at her naughty playfulness, but it fits her too well. You quickly grab her and spin her onto the mattress as you kiss her whole body from her perky breasts, to her toned abs, to her long legs and milky thighs until you reach her pussy.

“Sorry about cumming early,” you say, “but I’ll give you something in return.”

You crawl backward and place your face between your legs—you could live here forever. Yuna strokes your hair, and your pride is immediately soothed. Besides, it was inevitable with a woman as hot as her. You admire her pussy, not only with your blazing eyes (your seriousness reddening Yuna’s face) but also with your fingers which trace her folds. Methodically, as though your tongue needs to memorize every last fold, you lick and follow the same path as your digits. Around. Between. Every move you make earns a shiver throughout her body.

Yuna’s moans are soft and adorable, only making you want to give her more pleasure. After giving her thighs a subtle tickle, you center your aim toward the dripping hole itself, pointing a rigid finger and giving her an intent look. Upon her nod, you push a finger inside the soft pink entrance. Though you slide in and out, you take your time so that you can learn her body inside and out. It’s a simple challenge in the whole scheme of things: the deeper you go, the wetter she gets.

“More, Oppa.”

So another finger goes in, spreading her pussy lips wider. Above your fingers, you give deep kisses, making out with the sloppily-soaked hole. Your sampling becomes sloppier too when that kiss becomes a one-sided French kiss as your tongue adds support by invading the needy entrance.

Yuna becomes more vocal with her noises and impales herself into your timid fingers by rocking her hips forward. You’ve been careful with the thrusting of your digits so far. It’s just like the blowjob; you’re slowly learning just how much more she can really take.

Even wider your digits spread, and you see the small nub at the top of Yuna’s pussy; your tongue gives it particular attention. Tiny whimpers turn into less restrained whines, so you become more assertive yourself.

Yuna pulls you closer by the hair, choking you with her thighs, and she can’t hold back her words. “Right fucking there! Eat my pussy, baby, make me cum!”

You’d love nothing more, so that’s the plan; however, you can only reply with actions now. One more finger.

“Mhm, mhm, that’s it!”

Though you don’t know much, you know that if a woman says to keep doing the same thing, you better fucking keep doing the same thing.

“I’m—I’m—Ahhh!”

Soft flesh clenches around your damp fingers while Yuna’s fingers now clench your sweaty hair. Her voice pierces the warm air. Legs dig into your neck—you’re perfectly okay with all the rough treatment. It’s all worth it. Juices from her pussy come out, flooding your mouth, and in rampant desire, you try to drink it all. Yuna is a quiver, yet all you can think about is sucking her pussy dry. Sure, her nectar is musky, yet in your mind, it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.

When she’s finally wrung dry, her taut limbs slacking, you back away and watch her beauty in awe as she slowly comes down from her climax. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Her chest falls up and down to take in as much air as possible. “Th-thank you. Ff… Oppa. So much better than any of my toys.”

You climb back on top of her. To kiss her cheek, to play with her hair, to repeat the obvious truthful praise of her gorgeousness, they’re all to show her how much you love her in the small gestures.

Yuna smirks. A big gesture—she grabs your cock to stroke it.

“As much fun as that was, there is still the main event. “

While keeping your dick in her hand, Yuna leans forward so she can place small pecks on your balls and lick them playfully before kissing her way up your cock. Once she reaches your tip, she twists her tongue around it, getting as much wetness as she can on your member.

“Fuck, so hard again?”

You didn’t even notice. It’s like you didn’t skip a beat.

“Such a perfect dick,” Yuna adds between licks, “and now you can last longer for me.”

Yuna gets on her back again and spreads her pussy lips with two fingers while the other hand aligns your cock with her snug hole. She mouths the words “fuck me”, but every part of her is already saying that, especially her gaze. This Yuna shocks you since she’s always been the sweet girl next door, though that contrast turns you on even more.

However, you realize something important. “Wait, Yuna. I don’t have a condom. We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” she whines. “I’m safe today. And honestly, who cares? Just make me yours. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

You hesitate for a bit but the lust in Yuna’s eyes spreads to you easily. How could you ever deny this woman?

The feeling of warmth from between her legs transforms into wetness coating your cock as you push through the resistance of her plush pussy. Yuna winces but nods at you to continue. Through the mind-bending pleasure, the disbelief of the whole situation, you bring yourself to the hilt. Your arms holding yourself up above her are weak, and you feel even weaker with your face only a centimeter away from her ethereal visage.

All grace is ruined by her words. “Oppa, your cock… it’s so good. I want you to fuck me until my pussy is wrecked, b-but you’re bigger than my toys. Sorry. Let’s just wait a second.”

“No need for sorry, baby. Take your time.” You acquiesce, halt the motion of your hips, then stoop down to kiss her again. The kiss seems to distract her for a bit as she tenses less. Though your cock can physically feel the way her inner muscles relax the more care you give, she’s still squeezing you enough to blow your mind.

“You can go now, enjoy yourself, baby.”

“I will—” Pull your shaft almost all the way out, then slide back in “—as long as you do too.”

Yuna gulps. You take note of that little bulge passing through her neck as she swallows her own saliva—because her tight tummy has a similar bulge that grows and disappears every time your cock plunges inside.

Soon, you find a constant rhythm in your hips. Your hands explore down Yuna’s fit body, from brushing through her hair to massaging her tits and tickling her belly distended from your shaft’s size. Settling at her waist and grasping tightly, you urge her to move too. You pull her back and forth, and Yuna starts grinding into your crotch, accompanied by needy mewls.

“That’s right, keep fucking me, harder, har… derrr, ugh!”

Don’t need to be told twice. You burn through your stamina, through the enticing tightness, and pound into Yuna faster now, earning more short gasps. Her walls tense up again as you continue to build up speed, but before your mind can process it, Yuna wraps her arms around your neck and greedily kisses you.

When Yuna releases the lip-lock, she shouts, “Right there! Don’t you dare fucking stop!”

You realize your cock is pistoning into Yuna at such an angle that each shove pulls a yelp out of her. Whenever you graze that soft patch with your tip, her legs tremble: you’ve found her G-spot. Maybe. Whatever you’re doing is working, and every little reaction makes you want to impale Yuna with more strength.

“Fuck, Yuna, your pussy is the best!”

Her hands are tugging on your hair hard enough to send tingles to your scalp. “I fucking love your dick too. Don’t stop till I fucking cum again.”

Look into Yuna’s eyes. They’re not only mesmerizing but laden with perverse love. Of course, you have to keep destroying her pussy. But even more than that, you need to feel her cum around your cock.

Your other hand reaches down to find her clit. Yuna realizes what your maladroit fingers are trying to accomplish, so she guides you to the tiny spot of pleasure. She gasps when you gesture miniature circles at the same delirious speed as your thrusting, the sum total of felicity overpowering her.

“Fuck! Cumming! I, I, I’m…” Yuna’s juices flood down your cock while she shakes, her walls getting so tight you have to pull out. Luckily, there’s enough give that you can leave your cockhead between her lips while the orgasm rocks her.

When Yuna pushes your weight off of her, she’s still shaking, breathing like she’s lacking air. After a minute, she finally speaks up again.

“Wow. Oppa, you really know how to treat a girl right. But I had my fun. Time for you to cum,“ Yuna says with a full determination that invigorates you.

You pick Yuna up and spin her onto her tummy so her butt is facing you. “This ass is amazing.”

Yuna giggles when you peck at it just as much as the rest of her body, all around her asscheeks, down to her thighs—and a long kiss on her pussy with enough suction to make Yuna moan into your pillow. She lifts her butt up and shakes it before getting on her hands and knees.

“I’m all yours. Use me.”

In spite of all that's happened tonight, Yuna's newfound intensity still confounds you. At the same time, it lights a spark within you. You get up and kneel behind her, lining up your shaft with her cunt again.

At a torturously slow pace (you don't know for whom it's more torturous), you push your length back inside the slick, waiting entrance.

Yuna looks back, her drunk expression accentuated with a deadly smirk. “You don’t have to hold back now, fucking make me sore. Make my legs hurt. Make my body remember your dick, dream about your dick.”

Grab Yuna by the waist, plunge all the way inside, no more damned waiting. Wasted months, wasted seconds—the fuck is the difference? Already, you’re thrusting into Yuna with enough force to make the mattress recoil. Her pussy is so wet that it squelches audibly, and that wetness collects to a white cream that dirties your cock, only to be cleaned by the snug fit of her pussy lips.

Yuna did say to use her: You grab her wrists and pull her arms behind her back so that only her knees dig into the mattress. With your own knees, you spread her legs apart, and Yuna squeaks in surprise as she sinks into your cock more easily. Pulling her back further, you straighten Yuna's posture so that you can plant your lips on her neck. Each ass-rippling thrust of your cock is followed by a kiss deep enough to mark her.

You let go of one of her hands so that you can wrap your arm around her chest and knead her tits again. “Fuck, I might get addicted to this,” you say through grunts.

“Me too! I, oh, god, oh, fuck, fuck! Nngh, I’m, so, you, cock, big, fuck!” The only intelligible words that continue to stream from her lips are curse words loud enough that the neighbors might hear.

Finally, you start to notice that recognizable knot in your stomach. Despite your climax earlier, you know this snap will be much stronger, that your load is going to absolutely flood Yuna. It’s the sort of peak that you’ve never accomplished alone—the intimacy of fucking the most beautiful woman in your life turns you rougher, more primal than your wildest imaginations.

“Baby I’m gonna fucking cum soon.” Your hand grips her hair, the other on her midriff to keep her in place so you can pound her as harshly as you can.

“Where, mh—cum? Ass? Tits? Tummy? Just, fucking, whatever, hgh, you want.”

Gasping for a bit of air, you give Yuna your answer: “Get down, I’m gonna paint that pretty face.”

“Of course.”

You stop posting into Yuna, your soaked cock comes out from her pussy. Stand on the mattress, and she quickly kneels and sucks your cock like there was no tomorrow. Yuna smirks, then brings your dick down her throat—you almost cum at that moment.

Luckily, Yuna stops in time, backs away, and strokes your cock in front of her face. She bites her lip.

“Paint this pretty face with your cum. Don’t leave any part of my face clean.”

Those were the words you needed to hear. You throb and explode like you never have before—that includes just moments ago. The first wave washes over you fiercely, making your shaft pulse and shoot out, hitting her forehead. Each subsequent spurt of your cum haphazardly stains different parts of her face: some goes in her eyes, some on her cheeks, plenty on her pouty lips, while the rest drips down her chin.

You nearly pass out from how hard you came, falling on the bed while Yuna shows off the sticky white mess you made on her face. A proud, ethereal smile, sullied by globs of semen.

Yuna wipes her eyelids, then scoops up some of the cum from her cheeks. She puts it in her mouth and drinks it happily.

“Yummy.”

Even though you're absolutely fatigued, you run to your bathroom and bring Yuna a towel.

“Thank you, baby.”

Yuna cleans her face while you find something for her to wear. You find a pair of matching white t-shirts. When Yuna puts the shirt on, it fits much bigger on her. You lay down and sigh in fatigue, and she lays next to you.

You kiss her forehead. “That was fucking crazy.”

“You’re right about that. I’ve never cum like that before. I’m so glad I let you take my virginity.”

You look at her, surprised at what you just heard. In the back of your head, you always assumed you were too late.

Yuna sees your face and laughs. That bright expression is the Yuna you remember. “Yes, I was a virgin, I was saving myself for the man I loved, and I knew I had to be honest with myself, that it was always you. I’m glad I waited too ‘cause you sure know what you are doing.“

“Oh, I kinda got a bit… lucky but, yeah, thank you. I’m a virgin too, even though I wasn’t planning on saving myself for you—wait, no, I mean, I definitely was, I just thought I never had a chance because you’re too—”

Lips stop you from further stumbling. Yuna shushes you curtly. “We just had sex, babe. It’s okay.” You realize every part of her, from the lustful to lovely, is what makes her so striking, and all the love in her eyes lets your wandering mind slow down, lets you return the same sincerity.

Obviously, you love kissing Yuna’s lips, but there’s something about her whole face that you need to pepper with smooches, and she giggles as you go from her cheek to her forehead down to her jaw again. She hugs you tighter.

“You know what the best part is? That’s just the first of many times,” Yuna says, purring in your ear. The warmth of her breath and her body wrapped around yours is enough to bring you to rest.

Though somewhere in the depths of sleep, you hear the words “I love you.”

The next thing you see is the morning sun falling on the perfection of Yuna’s face while you cuddle her tightly. Any dishevelment from last night is gone. As you take deep breaths, you hear her stirring too. Though Yuna’s eyes are still closed, she hugs you back. You love the way that your bed, your pillows, your sheets now smell like her.

You hear small giggles from outside, so you look towards the door now ajar and see Ryujin there taking pictures. When Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yeji lean too hard on the door, it opens and they all fall over.

You whisper-yell “Yah!” as best as you can to not wake up Yuna, but she hears you and sits up, looking at you in confusion. The confusion is supplanted by anger when she looks at the girls.

Yuna yells much louder—“YAH!”—and the other girls run back to your kitchen.

Despite her frustration, or more accurately because of it, you laugh, grabbing Yuna’s hand.

“Apparently, they don’t know what privacy is,” Yuna says with a pout.

You laugh with Yuna and grab her for a hug. Actually, when did they get in? Whatever. Your hands climb up to Yuna's face, caressing her adorable cheeks. “What a night to remember, huh?”

When Yuna smiles back at you, you dive back into her lips and kiss her deeply, marking your new relationship.

Guess life can work in funny ways.

A/N- So this was the fic I was teasing a bit. like I said earlier Levi was a massive help on this one and I couldn’t have done it without him. Yuna’s beauty was always something that amazed me so I was excited to write this one and be one of the first few to do it. if you made it this far thank you once again for reading and i hope to see you next time.

#smut #kpopsmut #itzy smut #itzy yuna smut #yuna smut

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1) Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2) Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3) Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette. A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is…everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

###

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure.

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

###

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had.

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1) Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2) Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3) Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women.

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.”

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust.

###

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

###

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

616 notes · View notes

kira-fluff · 3 years

Note

Heeey!

Saeyoung, Yoosung, Jumin and Zen reacting to to “hotel only one bed” trope ? ♥️

a/n: of course you can lovely! <3 *AHEM* Lemme just say this trope is ELITE and I will NEVER not love it // also, i’m writing it like it’s before they’re dating (OF COURSE) because I want it to be spicy (actually that’s the only thing that would make sense for this prompt but you get my point whatever). ALSO also I’m basing the fancy hotel off my stay at the Ritz Carlton (it was like $25,000 a night) because my grandma couldn’t manage money N E WAYSS. Also, if y’all could let me know whether you prefer Y/N to MC pls lmk k thx

TW: drunk old lady w/no filter, gets pretty suggestive because I couldn’t help myself, an overbearing aunt, savage Italians, and loud hotel neighbor

Note: omfg i accidentally made this so long oh well here’s yo present lmao

“There’s only one bed” PT.1 PT.2

Saeyoung

Getaway missions are mad cool until you can’t sleep

When you finally neared the parking entrance to your hotel you were SO looking forward to taking a nice hot shower before shimming into the covers of your crisp, (clean, you hoped) sheets.

It was past 3AM when Saeyoung finally drove his elegant vehicular device (because what other word is there for it) into a secured parking space

“Because I don’t trust those shady valets, y/n.”

“Whatever you say, Seven”, you replied groggily.

You hauled ass up to the front desk, then to the elevator of the exquisite hotel you were staying at

not that you cared

because S L E E P

but Saeyoung likes to quote Jurassic Park (because of course he does) like “I spare no expense, y/n”

“I’m too tired to laugh”

*gASP*

“Not everyone naturally stays up until the early morning light before going to sleep.”

“It really should become a thing, it’s honestly very iconic of me.” (it’s not)

By the time your conversation ended you were glad to see your hotel number and a little key card slot.

Saeyoung made a show of sticking the key card in like a spy or something

it was funny for normal y/n but not for tired y/n

“Here’s your room, M’lady.”

He held the door open to your room as you looked around the room

a large, lush bed set before a ginormous flat screen TV with complimentary expensive chocolates laid before you as well as complimentary take-home elegant towels and slippers.

suddenly, you heard a knock on the door

blinking in confusion, you opened to see it was Saeyoung

“Um.. hey! What’s up?”

Saeyoung looked a bit bewildered himself before saying,

“Hey, so, I realized my key card was the same room number as yours and I was like ‘That’s weird!’ so I called the front desk who verified that I had placed a reservation for one room, not two, so I hacked into their system to see what went wrong and if I could change it but it looks like they’re completely booked and I think I had made the reservation before I knew that you had to come along and I’m so sorry”

he was breathless after the mouthful he just gave you

As it was 3AM a drunk, old woman was tripping her way to her room and shouted much louder than she should at 3AM, “Kiss her already n’ fuck, ya youngin’s!”

Saeyoung’s hair now matched his face :)

His ears were tipped bright red before coughing awkwardly

“I can sleep on the ground. I’ve done it plenty of times, it’s actually pretty comfy.”

“Um, Sev’ I’m not going to make you just sleep on the floor. If you want--”

“You’re not making me, y/n, I want to do this”

“Actually I think I’ll sleep on the floor, I sleep a lot better on the ground”, you fibbed.

“You’re sleeping on that big ass bed.”

“No you are.”

“If you don’t listen I’ll sleep in the bath tub instead of the floor.”

“Then I’LL sleep outside the room!”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

“WATCH ME”

the phone rang, a worker politely asking you to quiet a bit down because even with your luxurious privacy walls, guests could still hear you arguing.

Saeyoung began whisper shouting, “Guess that settles it.”

he plopped on the ground, fake snoring with his arm as a pillow

you sighed

“Fine, if neither of us are going to agree to this then we are both going to sleep in this bed.”

Saeyoung blushed lightly at your boldness, a tad worried you’d find him creepy or weird

You started again, beginning to undress a little, causing Seven to yelp in panic and turn around immediately, shielding his eyes,

Now in your tank top and your leggings you’d been wearing under sweatpants and a t-shirt, you said, “I’m gonna go take a quick shower and go to bed. I’m so tired.”

Seven turned around only when he’d heard the bathroom door shut

he sighed, What am I going to do with this girl.

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom, drying your wet hair, Seven was lying on the bed, clad in casual t-shirt and jeans.

“Come on, Saeyoung, you have comfy clothes! It’s okay, change! I’m done in the bathroom now.”

“Nah, this is fine.” This was not fine. Saeyoung was out of his area of expertise of expecting the unexpected because God you were so unpredictable.

“Please” you jutted out your bottom lip in a little pout, being sure to make eye contact with him

Something glowered in his eyes for a split second before he half-smiled saying, “Ah, little Y/n, you know I can’t say no to you when you go all sad on me.”

He stepped into the bathroom to change, but let’s be honest. He was freaking the fuck out.

he covered his flushed face, changing into his soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt. he was scared

the more comfortable he became the more likely he’d accidentally get closer to you and then you’d freak out because you’d hear the sound of his heart beat like it’s a fucking rave concert and then you’d be weirded forever and quite possibly never talk to him again

but on the outside, he stepped out of the bathroom, whipping his phone out with a huge smirk saying, “Smile”

you threw up a peace sign with your tongue sticking out

he laughed before sending it to the RFA chat

707: Sleepover lolol [see attachment]

immediately both your phones blew up with buzzes of notifications from the chat

you laughed lightly, brushing a stray hair from your face to tuck it behind your ear

this was gonna be a long night for Seven.

Zen: UGH get away from her!!!!!!!!!111!!1!!

Jumin: Maybe you should learn to type first.

Zen: shut it cat freak

Zen: seven answer

Zen: hey

Zen: y/n, text “qwerty” if you’re in any kind of danger

Jumin: What a strange code.

You: qwerty :(

707: lololololol

Zen: !!!!!

Zen: ASJDHKJFASHFKJA

Jumin: -_-

Zen: WE NEED A CAR, NO A HELICOPTER im omw!!

You: just kidding <3 i’m fine you guys

707: lololol

Jumin: Have a bit more faith in your subordinates, Zen.

You closed the chat and muted your phone, expecting the incoming argument that was quickly to ensue.

You patted the bed lightly, ushering Saeyoung to lie down next to you.

He obliged, though he politely laid at the far edge of the left side of the bed.

You yawned before shutting the light off and whispering a “good night”.

Saeyoung glanced at the clock. 4AM. Only 15 minutes had passed. You were breathing softly in your sleep within the 10 minutes after you’d said goodnight and here he was still awake.

You suddenly tousled in your sleep, and Saeyoung raised his head, whispering a soft, “Did I wake you up?”

You replied with a soft moan before abruptly turning left onto his corner of the bed and grabbing for the first thing you’d felt -- his torso.

Saeyoung’s breath hitched as he felt you exploring the new found “object”, running your fingers up and down his torso and nearing dangerous areas below

Saeyoung whisper-shouted, “What are you doing?”

He leaned closer to hear your reply, but your only answer was more soft little snores

Saeyoung sighed, trying to lightly grab your wrists without waking you up, and directing toward yourself

no matter how hard he’d try, your arms kept finding his own

your nails would softly ghost over his chest or neck, causing him to shiver and blush profusely

again, he sighed, trying his hardest not to give into your sleepy state

until you broke him with a soft utterance, “Sae....young..”

Saeyoung’s eyes widened to the size of saucers before he dared to look down at you, your hair curling on the bed every which-way.. your mouth slightly agap...

he groaned, his brows furrowed and his eyes shut

at last he slunk his arms around your torso, being sure to respectfully keep them high around your waist

he buried his face in the crook of your neck to subconsciously try to hide his ever growing blush (and erection)

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this ‘friend’ thing when you’re driving me this crazy, y/n.

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug

shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

Yoosung

this bean is lonely uwu

so when he’d invited to you go with him on a trip his uncle had paid for, you felt bad saying “yes” because it’s a paid trip!!

until he begged you because his cousin Chaewon would be there and he was always really pushy and borderline a huge fuck boi

so you conceded

but hey free trip for the both of you minus shitty family gatherings with no one you know, right?!

you hope there’s at least one dog. and alcohol.

dog + alcohol at a party = an actual fun fucking time

you were glad Yoosung was there with you because he honestly couldn’t agree with you more

You opened your beach-side resort room to find there’s only one bed.

Yoosung blanched and quickly dialed his auntie, who’d made the resort reservations

“Ah...hi auntie! Um, how come there isn’t a separate room for me and y/n?”

his aunt cackled into the phone, “Aren’t you an old fashioned little gentlemen!!! Awe~~~ you’ve grown up to be such a good boy! <3 Well don’t worry, I won’t say a word to my sister or your pops. Enjoy the time you have with your adorable girlfriend and get it on a little!! I’ve got condoms if ya need ‘em honey~~ Remember dearie, when the shlong is not covered, the child support better be.”

Yoosung hurriedly hung up the phone, his face completely red, praying you hadn’t heard the conversation that’d just ensued.

You did

but you smile and say, “So.. what’d they say?”

He cleared his throat before saying, “Well, --err.. Basically there’s been a little mishap. B-but don’t worry!! I can just ask Chaewon if I can spend the night in his room.”

“Didn’t you say he leaves a sock on the door handle every time--”

“YES but I want you to be comfortable, okay! It’s really not a big deal.”

You shyly smiled while looking down before softly saying, “You can sleep with me.”

Yoosung’s eyes widened and you quickly looked up, your face flushing to a deep crimson

“I-I-I meant in the bed!!! With me. We can lie together. In the bed---- I mean we--”

Yoosung could practically see the steam coming out of your ears and the room felt a LOT hotter

“S-sure! Sounds great.” he had a feeling if you didn’t agree you’d end up embarrassing yourself further.. and he didn’t want you to feel bad. And he didn’t want those thoughts circulating his mind again.

“Alright, so I’m going to hop in the shower, y/n... unless you want to go first?”

Gulping down some complimentary water you’d found in the hotel mini fridge, you quickly replied with a shake of your head.

Nodding, Yoosung make quick work of washing his hair and trying to give himself a pep talk before he would be sleeping next to you.

Thankful for the big size of the resort bed, you climbed under the covers, already beginning to feel sleep take you

When Yoosung had at last dried himself off and walked out to the bed area of the resort room, he gazed at how small you looked, hugging a soft pillow in your arms, your eyes fluttered shut

He looked away, feeling like a creep.

He shut off the light after making a call to the resort staff to wake him up at 8AM as directed by his uncle’s itinerary

He slid under the covers, shoving a pillow in between the two of you as a little border to separate the two of you

it wasn’t until further in the night when Yoosung had felt a jolt and he looked up in panic, through the blackness recognizing the pillow-border had been cast onto the ground

and even more noticeably, your leg was swung over his hip, your body flush to his own

your arms were snaked around his neck

he felt like he could feel every inch of you

your soft breath just below his ear

your soft .. er.. chest... against his torso

your stomach and .. the rest of it... against his own

Yoosung could not breathe

like someone actually help this man for he is losing oxygen by the minute

He squeezed his eyes shut and make the executive decision to wait it out til morning

he was terrified that if he’d move you, you’d wake up and see just how much you affect him.

And so, when the phone rang that morning, you’d startled, looking up to see your tangled limbs lying on top of his own

“oH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY YOOSUNG UGH IT’S A HABIT OF MINE AHAHHSAHDAJSHS”

he looked at you with eyes that had noticeable circles under them (darker than even after his LOLOL gaming)

“you look like you didn’t sleep much.... --- Is it because of me!? Oh my god I’m so sorry you should’ve just shoved me off or something seriously I didn’t mean to do it on purpose, honest!!”

“N-no, no it’s really not!! I promise!!” He tried his best to grin, though it probably looked like a grimace, because the next thing you said was, “I’ll make it up to you”

“You don’t need to do that. Really, I liked it.”

It took a moment for him to realize what he just said.

“I-I mean I like you! I mean I liked sleeping with you!!! I mean--!!”

Yoosung was quickly spinning circles in his mind

you couldn’t help the little giggle that came out of your mouth, “I guess we’re pretty similar, huh?”

Yoosung smiled lightly, “Yeah, guess so.”

You walked out together toward the breakfast area of the resort

“Hey”, you started, “Is.. Did you mean what you said? About liking me?”

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.”

You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!”

Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?”

Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel

This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung.

Yeah.

Gotta love relatives.

Jumin

You received a call from a stern voice you didn’t recognize

<<“Hello. This is Mr. Han’s chauffeur. I’m approximately 6.3 miles away from your residence. Do not worry about clothes or other necessities. All will be provided for you.”>>

“Uh.. thanks? Where....?”

<<“Mr. Han has invited you to join him on his stay at the Ppalgan Vineyard Estates. Have you not received the notification?”>>

You glanced at your phone, seeing two unread messages on your phone.

You read them, feeling bad you hadn’t seen them before.

“Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Tell him I said thank you. Are you sure it’s okay for me to attend?”

<<“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Han gave me specific instructions to assure you would be able to come with him. I have been ordered to give 2 minute updates following your being picked up. I can assure you, it is his utmost wish that you join him this weekend. I’d be honored to thank him on your behalf, though I feel it would mean much more to him if you said it to him rather than me.” >>

“You’re right, thank you. And thanks for driving me. And for all the other stuff you said”, you replied nervously.

<<”There is no need to thank me, Miss. I am glad to serve Mr. Han in anyway I can.”>>

The call hung up before you could spout out more thank yous

you phone buzzed, startling you.

you clicked the notification

<<(XXX-XXX-XXXX HAN COMPANIES) I’ve arrived at your residence. Let me know if there is anything I can carry for you. Sent 13:52>>

You quickly texted a reply of gratitude before rushing down the stairs out of your apartment, not wanting to make Jumin’s chauffeur wait.

“Good to see you Miss Y/L/N. Is there anything I can get you? I have been given orders to purchase anything you may want or need on our way to the airport.”

He quickly texted something on his phone, presumably a text to Jumin about your safe arrival to his limo.

“A-airport? You mean, like, flying? Are you sure I don’t need my wallet? It’s not too late for me to go grab it, right? I have my debit card on my phone too, otherwise.”

“Miss Y/L/N you are not to spent a single won on this vacation. All is paid for.”

“But my clothes... I don’t want Jumin to have to pay for all new things!!”

"I assure you, money is not something Mr. Han wishes for you to be concerned with.”

You’d stayed silent at that, feeling bad that you’d already bothered the poor man who’d just been ordered to drive you, not reassure you of Jumin’s financial affairs.

You grew quiet, looking out the window as trees, streets, and cars zoomed past you.

“If you so wish, there are numerous meals options in the compartments below the seats as well as alcohol, carbonated beverages and iced water glasses. You are, of course, welcome to any of these. Please do not hesitate to notify me if there is something you’d like instead. We’d glad to make it a regular option in all of our limousines.”

You flushed, embarrassed at the amount of power Jumin’s words, and effectively, your own seemed to have on the entire Han Conglomerate as a whole. You laughed a little, it was funny thinking to yourself that you had so much power as to decide snack options for Jumin’s cars.

Jumin was extra like that, he always went above and beyond to make you comfortable. You loved that about him. It made you feel a little spoiled, so you instinctively rejected most offers at things that seemed to further complicate his worker’s duties.

You had no idea that when the chauffeur had said airport he meant the Han Private Airway Transportation Zone.

As in... private jet.

It was hard not to feel like you were in a whole different world.

Not that Jumin treated you that way... but it was hard not to notice!

You bowed in thanks to the driver before hastily finding your way to the nearest man standing in another black suit, his hands folded together in front of him.

As soon as you uttered your name, his whole demeanor changed and he instantly had gone from cool and collected to humble and overwhelmingly kind.

He’d quickly made his way to the boarding area, escorting you to the jet before leaving you at a polite distance way from Jumin who’d been looking at you from the moment you’d entered the aircraft.

His eyes searched your own as you’d yet to discover his presence

He couldn’t help but rake his eyes up and down your body, admiring the way you could look just in anything.

He at last saw you searching the spacious cabin, at last laying eyes on him.

His heart pounded faster, as if your noticing him made his heart leap in joy

You looked relieved and smiled, running over to him and sitting down next to him

“Hi Jumin!! Oh, should I be calling you Mr. Han? That’s what your chauffeur called you.. sorry if that’s what I should’ve been addressing you as!!”

His deep voice rumbled in your ear, causing you to shudder, “Jumin is fine.”

You gazed up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his perfectly tailored vest made him look so... well... for lack of better word...hot.

“Wow. You look...” Your eyes moved from his hair, to his face, to his neck, to his torso, slowly to his groin, to his legs... before you realized what you’d been doing and quickly your eyes shot up again.

You bit your lip, “You look nice.”

“Nice?”

You laughed shyly, and slightly (embarrassingly) breathless, “Yeah. Yeah you do. Nice.”

Jumin couldn’t help the sly smile he’d been holding back before replying, “You look beautiful.”

You flushed and looked down, squirming in your seat a little before looking at him once more, offering a small, “..thank you..”

After a few minutes of silence, you’d decided to change the subject, chattering on about how you wondered what this mysterious vacation would hold

Jumin couldn’t help is concentration half on every word you were saying, but also your lips. Slowly licking his own, he nodded along when you’d gotten especially enthusiastic, grinning slightly when you’d gotten so excited you’d leapt out of your luxury seat.

Within a half hour of the trip to your destination in Italy, Jumin had trouble concentrating on much else.

Get it together, Jumin, you’re not some fool like Zen.

It’d gotten worse the more you’d leaned further in your seat, your chest becoming slightly exposed

he covered his mouth with a hand, opting for looking out one of the many windows of the jet.

You’d always caught his attention and made him lose his focus -- something he’d never lost before he met you

He blamed the strawberry sent that you’d always carried with you

He wasn’t much for expensive, faux perfume that so many of his father’s skanks would wear... it was like no other.

After a few hours of grueling torture on your part (though you hadn’t know every single time you’d grabbed his hand or arm it’d sent his heart on a sky dive) Jumin was glad to have arrived in the gorgeous Italian acreage of the countryside.

It was even more beautiful at the dusk of night, you’d decided

Immediately a shiny vehicle pulled up, ready to transport you and Jumin to the estate you were to be residing in for the weekend.

Upon pulling into the culdesac, you almost scoffed at the word “estate” -- it was more of a country in and of itself, land stretched beyond what you could see

The mansion itself stood on pillars and high, Gothic windows.

Inside, flying buttresses decorated the building, giving it an elegant and aged ambiance that you just adored

“It’s so beautiful.”

He smiled at you then, watching you take in the wonders he’d realized he took for granted.

He was then directed to a double-door entrance way, “Your room, Mr. Han, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Separate, correct?”

The man stood in surprise, looking slightly aghast, “T-they never specified such details.”

“Contact them immediately to confirm. I’ll work it out from there.”

“Yes, Mr. Han.” From there, the man scurried away to contact the head of the estate.

After a few moments, he returned, “The Rossi Conglomerate had assumed that you’d brought your fiance with you.”

“Did you mention I don’t have one?”

“Y-yes, of course! But, Mr. Han, your father--”

Jumin sighed, “I’ll take care of it.” with a wave of his hand, the man was gone

You thanked him on his way out.

Jumin looked at you, searching for a reaction of displeasure or worry

When he didn’t find one, he began, “I was notified the Rossi had booked their other estates to their American investors. My being here is a formality, but it is business. It would be a great discourtesy to demand--”

You smiled reassuringly, “Jumin, don’t worry about it.. we’ll share the bed, okay?” You held your hand in his own, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles.

Jumin looked at you, choking on his spit slightly.

“Y/N you do understand that--”

“It’s fine, Jumin!! It’s late already, I’ll just put up my hair.. and.. do you know where the night clothes would be?”

He watched as you fixed a bobby pin between your teeth before running your fingers through your hair, watching as you arched your back to--

“Jumin? ...you don’t know?”

He cleared his throat, looking away, pink dusting his cheeks

“Bathroom.”

You thanked him, unaware of his watchful eyes

It had been a few seconds since you’d entered the bathroom before he heard a loud and alarmed, “..UM....JUMIN...?!”

He’d quickly made his way into the bathroom

“What’s wro--”

He looked and laying on the long granite island of the large bathroom was a silky set of lingerie as well as a note in Italian you couldn’t read.

Jumin’s words stopped dead on his lips as he stared at you, then the silky underwear set, you, silky underwear, you.......silky underwear.

On the outside, Jumin liked to think he came off as calm and collected, saying, “I can get you something else to wear.”

But when he’d made it two steps out of the bathroom he had a little collision. And by collision, I mean his face.. and the wall.

He looked in every drawer, finding nothing. He presumed clothes would be delivered as specified. But it was late already.. their servants are dismissed, only the protective guards surrounded the inside and outside of the estate.. explaining the situation to them didn’t seem very promising.

Of course you were kicking yourself, before you’d found their little....gift... you’d cast your days clothes into the washer. They were probably soaked by now.

Maybe I could use a hair dryer...? Or I could stuff them in the dryer??

Either way you’d be without clothes for.. too long.

And nothing would be greater punishment then showing all that in front of the man you had completely fallen for...

You heard a knock on the bathroom door. You listened from inside.

“Hey, I, uh, couldn’t find anything. Do you think you could wear your clothes from today?”

You whimpered, on the verge of tears, “I already put it in the washer!”

He knocked again, “Can I hand you something?”, he asked, undoing the buttons of his formal shirt.

“C-close your eyes!”

Jumin chuckled darkly before covering his eyes and handing her his collared shirt

“I’d give you the pants, too, but I don’t think they’d really fit you. Could you look at what they’d provided for me? Maybe slip on something from mine.”

“N-no! That’d be even worse for me!! .. and you!” You blushed again imagining him half naked

You hurriedly shuffled through the drawers, but to no avail.

You gulped, slipping on the lingerie to ensure that maybe something would be covered before buttoning Jumin’s formal shirt on you as well.

it was so big it didn’t leave much for the imagination

but you decided through a 10 minute pep talk that you’d suck it up and try your best to make his shirt into a night gown.

You at last stepped out of the bathroom, Jumin’s head shooting toward the sudden noise before taking you in

He could scarcely breathe, much less come up with a coherent sentence

you were in his shirt...

with barely any clothes on underneath

and you looked up at him shyly, biting your lip a little

drawing even more attention to your lips

Jumin had to stifle a groan, opting to head to the bathroom to change

After splashing some cold water on his face in a poor attempt to get his head out of the gutter, he quickly got on his pjs

after you both were ready for bed, Jumin sat on the bed, opening a small novel he’d been enjoying, Anthem.

His attention was immediately diverted from the dystopian fiction when he saw you were stretching

His shirt rode up high as he took in the way the lingerie perfect accentuated your curves, though it didn’t cover much below the waist

Noticing your folly, your eyes widened in shock before you immediately put your hands down

which, just your luck, made it all worse.

the sudden movement disheveled the shirt, causing it to ride down completely on one side, openly displaying the soft brassiere beneath it

Jumin slammed his book so hard it left an echo in the large room.

Great. He couldn’t even make it look like his book was suddenly unbelievably interesting that he just so happened to not take notice of the obvious sight before him.

You blanched, feeling a breeze along your shoulder, gasping before running to your side of the bed and pretending you don’t exist anymore

Meanwhile Jumin is in a c r i s i s

In the most eloquent of words, his mind said holy fucking motherfucking shit oh my God fuck fuck fuck AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH oh my god shit shit shit fuck shit sdfasodjgiajsidogjosdg MALFUNCTION!! WARNING!!!! RUN BITCH!!!

But Jumin didn’t run

because mama ain’t raise no bitch

but also because if he stood up it would be blatantly obvious that he had--

Stop thinking about it, Jumin.

He tried to redirect his mind to his 5 senses, a grounding technique he’d learned when he got too anxious when he was younger

But sight seemed to dominate it as his mind replayed your facial expressions, the way your hands awkwardly tried to cover yourself up, the way you looked the way he’d take it all off---

Oh God. I’m deep in shit.

He had never been so pissed at himself... and embarrassed.

He looked over at you, a horrible decision, really.

You were still awake, your face was redder than the strawberry sent that adorned you

“s-sorry..” you whispered, willing yourself to try to forget, “pretend that never happened..”

Jumin was practically feral and you were saying it never happened?

Jumin couldn’t just pretend he didn’t just see a fucking goddess

but he would for you

“..........pretend what never happened?”

You sighed, a small smile on your face as you quickly turned to thank him

but he was a LOT closer than you imagined

he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you, his head slightly angled.

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart.

And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes

Jumin felt confusion when you’d done this

he can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.”

He shut off the light, reaching over you

You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you

unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

Zen

Was Zen going to invite you to his own fucking tour?

Of course he was

he liked flexing his connections

and most of all, showing you just how much he cared about you

and loved you

but not the love part because God if you ever found out Zen might jump into the nearest body of water and never return

not that he didn’t have any confidence

he has lots of it

but it all kind of disintegrates when he gets to talking about his real feelings

But come on, it was blatantly obvious to anyone who had heckin eyes

or ears

or just any functioning body

the way he’d try to subtly throw an arm over your shoulder

or he’d lean in whenever you spoke

or the way he’d readjust his posture when you walked into a room

or the way everyone caught him staring

like anytime you weren’t looking

or when you are looking because he is “built different”

So the limo ride to the fancy hotel he was to stay at was something that had him looking forward to the tour, but also dreading it

you’d sat close to him in the limo because his agent and other workers were sitting along with him.

So close that your ass got pushed further and further onto his lap

because damn where the fuck are we and why are there so many goddamn potholes

Zen tried to steady you by firmly grabbing your hips

which was NOT the move

because now that you were firmly set on his lap, every bump felt like a fucking war against his hormones.

Like a gentleman, he quickly opted to seat you next to him, not wanting you to feel embarrassed

still, he could feel you being pulled closer to him with every long turn the limo made or every bump or abrupt stop

and it was torture.

like this man is sweating

but by some miracle you arrive at the hotel in one piece! Yay!

but Zen’s soul has left his body~~

so you get set up

You open the room, “Look, Zen! This bed is HUGE!!”, you ran over to it and plopped your face onto the sheets

He chuckled, watching you act like a little kid excited about a hotel for the first time

his brows furrowed when he realized there was no door separator between your rooms

He immediately called the front desk

all you could over hear was “No, there seems to be some kind of mistake”

and “I reserved two rooms -- conjoined”

“Alright, ok. Thanks.” and then he hung up.

“So..” he sighed, “They can’t get another room because they’re completely booked. Someone must’ve recognized the limo and lots of fans immediately bought up all the rooms in hopes of seeing me.”

“It’s alright Zen! I can ask to switch with your agent or something!!”

“NO!” Zen said a little too loudly. “No. Um, look it would be bad because he’s a man.”

“Your a dude, too, Zen.”

“I-- yeah, but that’s different because I’m a guy you can trust.”

“True..”

“So I’ll sleep on the couch, ‘kay?”

“Zen, no! You need your beauty sleep to be ready for your performance tomorrow!!!”

“It’s alright, really!”

“I’ll sleep on the couch!”

“Like hell you will.”

“Please :(”

“Y/N, seriously--”

“Then how about this! You and I just sleep in the same bed!”

Ever the dramatic soul, Zen gasped with his palm over his heart “How SCANDALOUS!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be Mr. Playboy?”

“Only for you, baby”, he winked.

You stuttered, “T-that’s not funny! Seriously don’t make it weird you horn- dog!”

He threw his head back in laughter, “Horn-dog?! I thought you said you trusted me!”

“Not when you’re obviously thinking about doing this and that to me!!”

“Doing this and tha---Hey! Who do you think I am?!”

There was suddenly a loud bang on the wall and a burly man shouted, “GO TO FUCKIN’ SLEEP YOU OBNOXIOUS, SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED LITTLE SHITS!”

You smirked, holding in a laugh saying, “Sounds like your fans are getting jealous.”

Zen’s mouth dropped and you began laughing hysterically

“T-that was like a 60 year old man!”

“I’M 42 YOU LITTLE SHIT”

You fell back on the bed, laughing louder

Zen shouted back, “WELL EXCUSE ME, SEXY, 42 YEAR OLD MAN”

There was silence before a harsh knock sounded at your door

All Zen’s bravado disintegrated and he made a dash for the bed, whispering loudly for you to “Turn off the fuckin’ lights, turn off the fuckin’ lights!”

You stifled more giggles rising up to your throat as you clicked off the light, making sure the room was locked, and climbed into bed

you breathed out your last laughs, sighing to yourself contentedly before noticing the close proximity you were to Zen

You stared at each other for a long moment

You leaned in closer

Zen placed a palm on your cheek, gently cupping it

he softly whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

You answered by harshly connecting your lips

The two of you feeding off each other’s oxygen as Zen bit your lip, causing you to gasp and open your mouth to make way for his tongue

you whimpered, feeling faint from lack of oxygen

the two of you parted, out of breath

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

but instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.”

He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity

But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?”

Um yeah rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much

I had honestly SO MUCH FUN writing this!! Let me know if you want, like, a part two to this. I think I’d just be so fun lol

1K notes · View notes

babyjakes · 2 years

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must be fate. [part two.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

← last part

summary | after unexpectedly connecting online with chris evans, you experience an even greater miracle by running into him at your favorite local cafe. though your life has been difficult lately, chris seems to know all the right things to say to get you feeling (at least a little bit) better.

pairing | chris evans x internet friend!reader

warnings | mentions of poor mental health (depression, loneliness), reader breaks down and sobs (big mood), chris being the sweetest human being ever <3 (like he holds you while you break down :’-))

word count | 1,384

requested by anon | Can I request a part 2 to must be nice? I have depression and it helped and was really well written!

an | hi friend, of course!! (i hope you are talking about must be fate!!) i’m really sorry you also deal with depression but im so so glad that you found some comfort in my writing <3 hope this helps as well, sending much much love your way!

“You sure this is okay?” you ask somewhat nervously from the passenger seat of Chris’s car as he drives through your quiet Massachusetts town, humming along quietly as Sammy Rae plays over the radio. After meeting up at the cafe, he ended up inviting you over for the afternoon, something completely unexpected and greatly appreciated. You still can’t believe it, though, as you sit beside him in his car, unable to wrap your mind around the fact that Chris Evans himself is really bringing you home with him.

“Course, doll. Wouldn’t have invited you if it wasn’t,” he assures you with a kind smile. Smiling back at him bashfully, you play with your hands in your lap, surprised to see as you look out the window that the route he’s taking appears awfully familiar.

After a few more blocks, he turns down a residential street. Your eyes widen at the name on the sign as you can barely make out, “W-wait. This is where you live?” Chris hums with a nod as he continues down the quiet road, coming up to a simple looking house and pulling into the driveway. “Wow, you’re a lot closer than I thought. I live just over on ________,” you tell him, naming the neighboring street that can’t be more than a few minutes of a drive away.

“________?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “No way; you really are close. I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other sooner given the fact that we’re practically neighbors.” He shifts into park and switches off the engine as you both undo your seatbelts, exiting the car and heading up the level driveway. Stopping at the front door, Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, jamming it in the lock and twisting it to allow you both entry. “Oh boy. Incoming,” he warns playfully as a very excited Dodger greets you both as you step inside, wagging his tail happily and sniffing at your coat.

“Hi buddy, hi,” you fuss the sweet dog gently, giving him some scratches behind his ears. Chris is all over him as well, the love in his eyes as he interacts with his furry best friend melting your heart. After a few minutes of petting and tail-wagging, Dodger settles down, scampering off to go find one of his toys. “He’s so sweet,” you gush as you and Chris undo your boots and remove your coats.

“Yeah, he’s a big love,” the man agrees with a smile, taking both of your coats and hanging them up on a coatrack near the stairs. Having removed all of your winter outerwear, you take a moment to look around and absorb your surroundings. The house is somehow just as you imagined it would be: warm, cozy, inviting. A stark contrast to your cold, dim apartment. “It’s nothing extravagant,” Chris says almost sheepishly as he stands a few feet away from you, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “But I don’t know, I guess I like it that way. It’s home.”

“No, no, no,” you say quickly, not wanting him to think you’re in any underwhelmed or disappointed, “it’s so lovely, Chris. Really. You’re right. It’s-” You’re startled as a wave of emotion hits you, struggling to swallow back tears. “It really is a home.”

“Hey, y/n,” Chris says, your sudden shift in mood causing worry to appear on his face. Reaching out a hand to you, he offers, “You wanna come sit on the couch? We can get the fireplace going.” You accept his offer gratefully, his large fingers wrapping around your own as he leads you out of the entryway and into the living room. Settling you down on the long leather couch, he grabs a blanket from the coffeetable, unfolding it and draping it over you. “You okay?” he asks as he steps over to the electric fireplace and flips a switch, toasty flames springing up instantly behind the glass and sending a gentle heat towards you. “You’re shaking a little.”

“Y-yeah,” you shiver, thankful for the warmth of the fire and the blanket. “Still cold from outside, I guess.” Nodding, Chris steps back over to the couch, pausing before he makes any further advances.

“You alright if I sit next to you? Sharing the blanket will let us conserve body heat,” he checks in carefully. Heat rises through your cheeks as you nod, your eyes dropping to your lap as Chris sits down next to you, readjusting the blanket to now cover you both. Turning to face you, he gives you a moment, sensing you’re feeling slightly wary about the whole situation.

With your eyes fixated on the dark brown fabric covering your lap, you’re flustered to find that tears have once again built up behind your timid gaze. Sniffling, you try to blink them away, only to become more frustrated as more quickly take their place. “Y/n,” Chris says your name again, his voice so low and sensitive that it feels dangerous; you truly can’t remember the last time you were in a position like this, in the presence of someone who seemingly cared so much about you and wanted so badly to make sure you were alright. “Hey… is it… would it be okay if I gave you a hug, doll? I won’t if you’re not comfortable; it just really seems like you could use one.”

His question quite nearly reduces you to sobs, but you simply nod, doing your best to hold yourself together. As soon as his strong arms wrap around you, though, you simply can’t hold back anymore; with a defeated whimper, you burst into tears against his shoulder as he holds you close to him. “Oh sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice dripping with heartache.

“Hey, y/n. I gotcha, darlin’, ‘s okay,” Chris breathes as you cry into his sweater, bringing up a careful hand and rubbing it over your back. “Just let it out, doll. Shh, shhh,” he murmurs, the pure tenderness in his voice only making you cry harder; never in your life have you been treated so gently.

Through your mess of sobs and sniffles, you attempt to form an apology, but all that comes out is a jumble of stuttering and and hiccups. “No, sweet girl, none of that,” he says with a shake of his head, his other hand coming up to smooth over your hair. “It’s okay to get it out, sweetheart. Just let it go, you’re okay.” And as he continues to hold and comfort you, you can’t find much strength to do anything but just that: completely let go of all you’ve been holding in for so long. Your cries of pain and distress become louder, more heartwrenching, but Chris just carries you right through it, pulling you over onto his lap as he soothes, “Oh, honey… Shhh… I know, bubba. I know… ‘s okay. Gonna be okay, y/n.”

After several more minutes of uncontrollable crying in the safety of Chris’s arms, you’re eventually able to calm yourself down, your sobs dissolving into quiet whimpers as you hiccup like a child in the broad man’s lap. Leaning back slightly, Chris looks down at you, bringing his hand down from your hair to cup your cheek. “There you are; hi, sweetheart,” he hums lovingly as his thumb brushes over your damp skin. “You feel a little better now?” he asks. “Seems like you’d been holding that in for quite a while.”

“Y-yeah, that was- that felt really… good,” you admit bashfully, a burning sense of embarrassment creeping up inside you as you realize what’s just happened; you quite literally fell apart right in Chris Evans’s arms, not exactly the best first impression you could’ve made. “I-I’m really sorry, Chris. I-”

“No, no ‘sorry’s,” he cuts you off, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours with genuine concern. “You needed that, y/n; it’s okay. Everybody has a breaking point. I’m just glad I could be here to help you through it.” Snuggling you up against his chest again, he leans down, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I hope you’ll let me continue to be here through it,” he whispers, “whatever it is, no matter how bad or ugly. I promised you, remember? You’ve got me now.”

← last part

#eun's writing #must be fate #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans blurb #chris evans drabble #chris evans headcanon #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #hurt/comfort

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy smut #valentine fic

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

hawks_littledove.mp3

— You’re an avid listener to NSFW ASMR artist Hawks. It’s just your luck that he’s offered to have phone sex with you.

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pairing: takami keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, slight abuse of power/influence, phone sex, masturbation, degradation, praise, nsfw asmr artist!hawks

word count: 5,018

a/n: my keyboard is broken and i could actually cry. but hey, hawks do be sexy even tho I would never trust him with my life. also LOL this might be a call out to a lot of us, do not be offended or I will cry.

kinktober day 14 main kink: phone sex | kinktober masterlist

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Fantasizing about being in relationships with fictional characters was entirely healthy and normal.

That was something you believed to the core. It was fictional; thus, no one but you were to be hurt at the end of the day. The character, being fake, could never have an opinion because you must be real in order to have an opinion. So when you were between boyfriends, you discovered a new anime, and before you could stop yourself, you fell hard for a character.

It started as a mild obsession.

You had looked up fanart via google images, your heart warming when you saw the plethora of different fanart. The anime itself had been in circulation for a few years now, the manga for much longer, so the content was endless. Then google images wasn’t enough, and you began crossing into Twitter and Tumblr.

The fanart became better, more engrossing, and definitely much more NSFW. And then, one night during your endless rabbit hole down Tumblr after your daily search on Twitter, you stilled when seeing a new type of content.

⇒ grey fullbuster x reader

The obsession grew worse.

So much so that you had followed nearly five hundred self insert writers and artists on Tumblr, and maybe seven hundred artists, meta writers, and thread makers on twitter. But three months into consuming all the content you could find, you came across a new name that made you tilt your head.

Hawks Fierce Wings

It was a name that was being repeated and heavily talked about on both sites. It was an ASMR artist, apparently, and you frowned at the thought. You didn’t have anything against ASMR videos, but you weren’t exactly sure how to handle an anime ASMR artist. Were they cosplaying while making all those weird ASMR sounds? You really didn’t have any idea, but due to the immense boredom of your lazy day in, you decided to hell with it and tried out his most popular video.

It was simply entitled: Hawks is Jealous.

Did you have any idea as to who Hawks was? God, no, you didn’t. But if it was just some random cosplay he was going to do, you didn’t think it was going to matter. So as the only slightly educated ASMR listener, you never truly became invested when it was a thing; you slipped on your earbuds and pressed play.

The introduction screen faded into an illustrated picture of a slightly handsome man, and some calming yet tense music played in the background. You shifted, eyebrows drew as you waited for the ASMR session to begin, and when it did, you were not ready.

“I saw you walking around with that asshole today,” a voice practically growled in your ear, and you froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, no!

For almost an entire hour, you sat glued to your sofa, your fingers digging into your lap as the jealous, spiteful words of this man named Hawks poured bitterly in your ear. His words were a near aggravated assault on you and definitely something you were beyond uncomfortable hearing from a stranger, but there was something about his voice that kept you there. Maybe it was the tenor of his tone or the way there was this sly, cunning scent to his words that he seemed to hide deep within his throat, but there was something that kept you there.

The second the passionate, heated kissing noises and heavy moans began to spill from his lips, you screeched, slamming your laptop closed as your cheeks pounded heavily.

Oh my god?!

It took a bit, but eventually, you were able to finish the audio and quickly figured out why he was an NSFW artist. You had never, ever heard a man eat a pussy fake or real as eagerly or vigorously as he did. Your hands were gripping the pants of your leggings, and your chest heaved.

Oh, motherfucking shit.

Finding out there were almost seventy other videos for you to still experience sent you scrambling for more, and eventually, you had to confess you were obsessed. Despite the anime fandoms you had discovered him for, Hawks seemed to be more famous for the content he created as himself. His real name was unknown by the looks of it, and he was only addressed as Hawks by his audience, something you caught on to quickly. So only after creating a new profile for his Youtube account, you made quick work of liking and commenting on every single of his already published seventy-eight nearly one hour and thirty-minute videos.

Each one was different.

Each one filled with various roadmaps on how Hawks' scenarios would play out for you — the listener. When he used his own persona, he called the listener his little dove or his chicken nugget, sometimes his KFC thigh, or his shish kabob.

You were glad at the very least he didn’t call you by any of those nicknames when pretending to fuck you at a speed only a “porn-is-my-only-education-on-porn” virgin teenage boy. You knew it wasn’t ideal, usually, but for some reason, it just worked. You commented on everything, read his summaries and thoughts on each video. Eventually, when you found yourself on his final, most recent video, you were ready to go a step further.

The Patreon app on your phone seemed jarringly out of place as you opened the app and subscribed yourself to Hawks' highest tiered option for the price of twenty USD.

And when you got your access to his page, you were immersed in more heavier, better content.

It was a goldmine in a sea of fools gold, and you absolutely went insane.

You weren’t sure if you were insane, needy, or just straight-up idiotic for scrolling to the very first Patreon post and indulging in the content Hawks created.

There was a stark difference between the warnings alone between the Youtube videos and the Patreon posts. While the porn was readily accessible on Youtube, the kinkiest thing that ever happened in a video was a slight implication that Hawks had left the listener on a vibrator and fuckmachine as he went to go talk to the visiting neighbors.

It was a slight, tiny zone out and miss a detail, but one you had clung onto like an obsessed psycho and even commented on in your comment on the post. Of course, Hawks hadn’t responded, not that you had ever expected him to because all things considered, a video that was eight months old and hadn’t done that well, to begin with, didn’t seem like anything he would remember: notifications and all.

But Patreon? Oh good, sweet, ravishing Patreon.

The very first video was of the following:

Stepbrother!Hawks fucks Stepsister!Listener in the stairwell during Christmas Dinner.

After praying and swearing to all the deities of the world that you were merely a person with a voice kink for this man and not, in fact, a perverted pseudo-incest worshiper, you clicked on it and began. It was downright sinful.

There were active voices whispered in the background as Hawks laughed about how fucking slutty you were for letting your brother fuck you like this. In the hallway, like a dog, where anyone in your joint family could walk out into. He laughed that you probably wanted it, how your wet ass pussy was greedily sucking him in, so how could you even begin to deny your lust for your brother.

You had to take a break five times during that audio.

Eventually, you do end up catching up.

Each video he had ever posted to your disposal, and most likely due to the different tier levels, you always commented on the videos. Even if it made you feel awkward for lusting over things months old, even if there were no other comments on the videos, which was much more common than you thought, you always commented and liked. It wasn’t anything ever crazy, you had seen the rarest comments bring a whole essay of analysis on why they loved it or the hating words, but you kept it simple.

Just something to keep Hawks spirits high without draining you even further of energy.

A simple: holy shit, that was hot as fucking hell!!!! you never disappoint me!!!

You never expected anything out of it; as a matter of fact, you had merely thought that you were doing the least by merely appreciating his creations when, one night, a few hours after you had gotten home. Your phone chimed with an alert.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise; you hadn’t realized there was going to be a new release after he had just updated four days ago. Still, you popped in your earbuds and began the audio with a simple title.

i fuk ur stupid lil pus until u cri

He wasn’t precisely putting much effort into his titles these days, but his tags were definitely accurate and entirely explicit in what was to come. And in this newest video, the prominent tag was degradation.

You weren’t entirely into degradation, but still, you did what you had to do because you weren’t turned off by it. With the beginning sounds of the music playing in the background, you warped into the situation Hawks carefully carved.

But, oh?

Your face simmered with heat as Hawks dirty words dripped from the earbuds, the wet, squelching noise of your cunt and throat being fucked like some inanimate object made you soak through your panties as his disparaging words burned against your spine like a hot brand. After the thirty-minute audio was finished. Your body trembling with the aftershocks of an orgasm that had come despite the lack of actual stimulation of your clit, and you panted on your bed.

Opening your phone once again, you quickly liked the new audio and typed out your comment.

listen, i know i always comment about how fucking hot this shit is, but i have /never/ fucking soaked through my panties… you just did that and i expect a full refund for these panties 💦

You pressed send and, without so much of a second thought, continued your night. You had dinner, talked with friends, and ended the night curled back on the couch with a wine glass in your hand and a simple sit-com playing on the TV. The familiar sound of the Patreon alert rang in your ear, and you frowned, confused.

Grabbing your phone, you opened up the device and nearly shrieked at the sight of the information the notification that said:

Hawks F.W.: lets see those panties before i refund anything

A chill ran down your spine as you quickly put together the indications of this message, and you smirked, despite your quivering hands.

Me: I have a seven inch dick requirement before seeing any of the goods — yes, that includes my panties

And from that very moment, you began a strange arrangement between you and the NSFW ASMR artist Hawks.

Working was the worst part of your life, you would say.

At work, you would sit in your small 4x4 cubicle, your shelves stacked with plenty of papers and items you needed, not to mention the computer that took up the majority of your desk. You weren’t quite sure what your job here was, you sort of sat at your desk and did meaningless assignments when assigned, but you did nothing for the most part.

Before becoming an active Hawks stan, you would spend your time doing nothing playing video games. You had somehow managed to install a VPN onto your hard drive so that your employers wouldn’t be able to see what was on your screen outside of the home screen. They couldn’t trace what you did all day, but they could care less, given you got all your work completed on time and done in an over exceptional way.

But lately, since you had dropped into this… engrossed whore like relationship with Hawks, things changed.

To be honest, it still shocks you to no end when he tells you that he had always been aware of you. Well, with your consistent, ever appearing comments on his posts and overall enthusiasm for everything he posted, it was hard to not be aware. The mental image of your soaked through panties after a long day at his own work had sent him over the edge, and he finally messaged you.

Through the DM’s in Patreon, the two of you grew to become quite the friends with benefits. He would send you countless personalized audio files because you had quickly confessed to your voice kink and how his voice sent your stomach into hormonal knots. In return, you’d send the picture of an occasional soaked panty, and if he was lucky, an audio clip of your pathetic whines back to his audios.

You couldn’t complain about this arrangement.

But as the number of his patrons doubled, and he wanted to entice his subscribers with paying him even more money, Hawks began to offer a bimonthly personalized five minute audios for his $20 tier. The fans poured into that spot, and Hawks and proudly sent you the new number of adoring fans he was getting. On account of growing platforms such as Tiktok, the number of new listeners he got was nearly exponential, as he currently passed one million followers last week.

The cheeky bastard was also making enough money to stop working his regular work hours anymore. Choosing to transition slowly into his Patreon career while recording.

Hawks, however, seemed to have other ideas for your eventual personalized voice audio.

Hawks had simply asked if, by any chance, you were going to be working tomorrow the night before. Groaning loudly in recognition of your work schedule, you had texted him back that you were going to be working. Snidely including the fact that you weren’t rich like him, you needed the tedious old nine to five job.

Hawks: how utterly boring anyway u can b free around 2?

Me: Eh… probably not. Busy girl w busy schedule, ill be back from lunch so no break Why?

Hawks: well, u knw tht uve been amzing & th bst follower so i wanted 2 give u smthing better then the personalized audio

Me: Oh? Well, what is it?’

Hawks: pick up tmrw n find out

He had changed the subject immediately afterward by dodging all of your questions with ease. So you dropped it, and the two of you resumed a night of flirting. But now, sitting in your small cubicle, your eyes flashing to the clock that read 1:57 p.m., sweat began to build on your palm.

You peered down to your phone as you waited for something, anything from Hawks to show up. The fucker was too cheeky, evasive, and quick for his own good. You felt like pouting as you glared at the phone, waiting for the screen to light up.

And you stilled when finally, at precisely 1:59 p.m., your phone gleamed with light. You couldn’t abandon your computer mouse quicker than you did as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and reading the message from Hawks.

Hawks: do u have earbuds?

Me: Yes?

Hawks: good put them on n pick up

The moment you had read the first message, you were already pulling out your earbuds, synching them up to your phone, and placing them into your ear. But your jaw dropped when, for the first time, the call feature highlighted onto the screen, the time immediately changing to that of 2:00 p.m. The decline or accept button had never looked as daunting as it did right now.

Despite the call trying to go through, you still saw his follow up.

Hawks: if u dont pick up u wont get shit

[Accept]

You felt your heart hammering in your chest as both fear, apprehension, and excitement boiled through your veins, the hammering blood pounding in your ears as you waited for some sort of noise on the opposite side of the line.

“Little dove?” Hawks' voices filled your ears, and despite yourself, you smiled softly. The naturalness of his voice sends warm thumps down your spine.

“Hi, Hawks,” you whisper breathlessly, your head already checking to make sure your neighboring cubicle mates didn’t try to look over the divisions to stare at you. For the most part, the office building was quiet except for the phone calls, the clanking of computer keys, and the monotonous music playing softly on the speaker's head.

“Whatcha doing?” he drawled, and you felt your skin heat up when you heard the all too familiar sound of his shoes hitting the top of his desk, the soft whine of his chair as he leaned back onto it. “Are you really at work?”

“What do you mean, am I really at work?” you squeaked, half horrified at the way the lazy, warm heat of lust was infiltrating your body at the sound of his voice, and the annoyance that he thought you had been lying? “Of course I am; it’s two p.m. on a Wednesday!”

“Ah, so little dove-chan is a raging pervert who engages in phone sex to bypass her long hours at work?” Hawks sighed his tone that of understanding and dismissal. You splutter. “You never fail to surprise me.”

“I do not do… that!” you stammer, your face feeling like hot cinders, your fingers and eyes double-checking to make sure that the audio was going to your earbuds and your earbuds only. You also couldn’t help the way your eyes swept around you, trying to make sure you hadn’t accidentally invited unwanted attention. “I said I was busy!”

“But, you picked up my call?”

“You said, or else!”

“Mmm, okay, I think I see,” Hawks tutted, and although you had never seen what you supposed to be his handsome face, you could imagine a lazy, toothy smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind using your little cubicle to talk you into fucking yourself good for me.”

Your jaw drops.

It hits the desk, and the muffled shriek of utter humiliation is only silenced because you bit onto your tongue like a rabid animal.

“Aw, you sound so excited for me already, little dove. I bet you want to know what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? I just know that I’m going to make you feel so... good…”

“Hawks!” you plea in a hushed whisper, your heart hammering where you sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Sure, you had definitely played his audios before to pass the time, but never before in your existence had you had actual phone sex. This was riskier than just listening to his audios; his audios always had a pattern, a way to escape from the madness of his voice when people were closer than you’d like. But this? No, there was no escape. “I’m at work! I c-can’t!”

“But, fuck, I want you so bad,” Hawks' voice dipped into a gravely tone, his voice just perfectly scratchy enough that your shoulders trembled in unspoken, untouched want. “I want to feel your cunt around my cock, baby, your pussy is so hot and I want to be the fucking lucky bastard that gets to fuck you through your bed.”

“O-Oh my god…”

“I’ve been thinking of what your tits look like,” Hawks continues on, his voice continuing in the style you liked the most. It was raw, heavy, and deep. No character impersonations, just him, pure Hawks. “I hope they bounce the way they do when I imagine you riding me. I want to see you moan when I kiss the underside of your tit, I want to see your face when you realize that you’re my girl, nobody's else's, but mine.”

Heat floods your panties at his words, your shallow breaths making him chuckle on the other end.

“You’d be so lucky to be just mine, wouldn’t you, little dove?” Hawks snaps, his voice demanding a response, and you heave.

You look around, no one is near, and you croak out: “I’d be so lucky.”

“Louder.”

“I’d be so lucky.”

“Mm, there we go,” Hawks laughs, and your ears prickle for any noise that may indicate that someone was listening in. “What? Are you getting nervous that your needy ass will be heard by your coworkers right now? Answer me.”

“Mhmm,” you hum loudly, your cunt pulsing with more incredible heat and your hands shaking with a slight fear of being caught.

“Aww, don’t worry, little dove. I’m sure your boss will understand that you’re my newest fucktoy and will let me continue. Maybe they’ll want to join in?”

You whimper softly, shifting in your seat at that thought. You didn’t really want your boss coming anywhere near you, he was old and gross for one, and nothing could take the place of this beautiful man's voice in your ear right now.

“Oh, was that a no? You don’t want other people fucking you, do you, y/n? I bet you only want to have my cock in your tight little pussy, bet you want to watch the way that greedy little thing sucks me in, begging for my seed. Would you want me to cum deep inside you? You would like that little dove; you’d like to be full of my cum.”

“H-Hawks,” you keen as quietly as you can, your hips shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your heart hammering in your throat. The pressing heat in your cunt is growing, your panties growing with wet slick as Hawks' voice whispers down your ear, filling every empty and void space in your brain until you were having trouble focusing on the very much public spot you were in.

Hawks let out a soft, guttural moan, and you froze, face entirely combusting into an inferno as the familiar slick slapping of his fapping cock filled your ear. Immediately, you forgot everything.

“A-Are you—?!” you splutter, unable to find the words or the energy to come up with a way to ask if he was masturbating right now. Your eyes spun, your mind in a complete haze as soft, raunchy moans spilled from his lips, striking against your nerves and soul with each successive sound.

“I’m only trying to help you out here, dove,” Hawks growled, undoubtedly in effect to a rather loud smack of his fist colliding with his thrusting hip. “You’re the little office slut who picked up a phone call to entice in phone sex. I bet you knew exactly what I was going to do, and your pathetic, needy whore self caved to my instructions.”

Your fingers curled into the armrest of your chair.

“I bet this makes your boring ass job tolerable, the perfect distraction to a shit job, then imagining a few minutes of fucking yourself against my hard cock.”

“That’s not true!”

“No?” Hawks laughed, not believing you any more than you did. “So you wouldn’t hate it if I showed up and fucked you into the wall of your cubicle? You wouldn’t mind if I claimed your sweet-smelling pussy against your desk for everyone to hear? I know you can scream like a bitch in heat. I know that pretty little cunt of yours would milk my cock dry. Oh, I just know you would look so fucking sexy with your back arched, eyes closed, and you begging for hours just to cum. You wouldn’t cum without my permission, right?”

You gasped, heart fluttering, hammering in your chest as you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“I need a verbal answer, little dove.”

The heat in your core was blistering, your thighs shaking with your unadulterated lust and need as you ground into the cushion of your chair. All logic and moral long gone as he snarled and moaned your name in your ear, the slick of his fapping cock echoing like a great bell in your ear. You wanted to hear him cum, wanted to listen to the pithering sound of his echoing moans as he spilled the contents of his balls onto his hand — and how you wished it was your womb.

“I won’t cum w-without your permission!” you whispered, your skin shivering with your fear of being caught.

“God, you sound like such a dirty fucking bitch. I bet your pussy is fucking soaked already. Bet you really want to run that slutty embarrassed finger against your clit but don’t want to be caught by your perverted coworkers,” Hawks hissed, his breaths turning into steady, heavy hot pants. You mewl softly, confirming his spoken thoughts, and he huffs out a laugh. “How many fingers do you normally shove up that pretty cunt of yours, little dove?”

“T-Three!” you gasp, your forehead pressing to the cool of your desk, your eyes glazed over and looking at the entrance of your cubicle, fervently wishing that no one tries to check on you as you grind against your stable chair. “O-Only three fit.”

“Fuck, you really do have a tight cunt, don’t you,” Hawks snaps, the wet sounds of his fisting hand around his cock a beautiful melody in your ear that makes you whine at the back of your throat. “Bet you can’t even fit cocks up your cunt without lube, huh. You gotta stay on top, or else you’ll get hurt with how thick and long my cock will be up that baby pussy of yours.”

“H-Hawks!” you grit out, the friction of grinding on the seat no longer working.

“Go to the bathroom, now,” Hawks commands, the small gasps on his voice from his approaching orgasm more than enough ammo for you to do as told.

You sprint to the bathroom, the slick of your cunt hot, and evident to you as you sped to the bathroom. Your phone clenched in your hand as you locked the door behind you, glad the room was empty. Barely managing to get yourself into the stall, the toilet paper placed on the seat as you raised your legs up, already prepared. The skirt you wore was bunched above your ass, and the panties you wore, stretching out around your knees.

“Sounds like you’re ready to start fucking that pussy for me,” Hawks laughs, but there's no humor, just bite. “Put in three fingers, now.”

Without even arguing or caring, three fingers slip into your cunt, and you cry at the feeling of your fingers completely stretching you out. The smell of sex and slick filling your nose as your fingers slick up, fucking your tight cunt as you moan louder and louder for Hawks.

“God, your fucking pussy is so fucking wet, I can hear it from here!” Hawks moans, the frantic sound of his drilling hips gaining speed and momentum.

“I want it to be you!” you moan, your face burning in your humiliation. “I want it to be you fucking my pussy, claiming me in this bathroom. I need you, Hawks, I want your cock so badly!”

“Fuck,” Hawks gasps, something tumbling in the background. “Such sweet words for a fucking dirty ass cumslut,” he growls, and your legs shake, your clit and cunt thrumming with your increasing arousal and pit of tightness in your core.

“HAWKS, FUCK!” you sob as your hips try to start a merciless speed against your fingers, your body trying to match the speed in which Hawks was fucking his own hand.

“Keep screaming my name, whore.” Hawks gasps, his noises of pleasure beginning to grow louder and louder, your eyes crossing in satisfaction. “Screaming my name like the fucking slutty mess you are. All this shit just to get me to fuck you? God, you’re so fucking pathetic y/n. Begging for me, begging for more? I think you’re my favorite little dove ever, gonna make you mine whenever I get to fuck that pussy.”

“Hawks!” you wail his name again, your arms and pussy throbbing with the energy it takes to keep up with his inhumane speeds. Your vision seeing stars as you tremble more and more, your legs slipping from the toilet seat, yet. “I am your whore, your little dove. Please let me come, please! You fuck me so well, fucking hell, please, I needa cum, I needa cum!”

“Cum with me,” he snaps, his voice so deep, so dangerously smooth. It was precisely what you needed, the voice kink you had for his tenor exactly fulfilled entirely with that simple, last command. And just like that, your jaw slackens, head slamming backward, and pleasurable waves crash through you.

Your fingers still rock at your clit, and your vice gripped walls, your toes curling within your shoes as you soundlessly scream. Hawks, on the other end, is practically snarling, voice deep and altogether dangerous as grunt after grunt leaves him, and you can imagine the milk-white cum splattered all over his chest and hand. A beautiful, perfect sight that you wish you could see for yourself.

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you sit on the toilet, still entirely exhausted as you heave for air.

“I think that was the best fucking orgasm I ever had,” you mumble, your eyes closed, not ready to stand up and move. “Thank you.”

“I’m good at what I… at what I do,” Hawks stumbles, husky exhaustion ringing in his own voice. “Now, little dove, finish up work, and I promise there’ll be a surprise waiting for you when you’re done.”

Not entirely agreeing, but not disagreeing with his command to go finish you last… two and a half hours at work, you begrudgingly said goodbye to Hawks before washing your hands and exiting the bathroom.

When five o’clock came, you watched as your phone screen lit up, and your face flushed as you read the DM from Hawks.

Hawks: this is my fav audio now ↳ hawks_littledove.mp3 but you surprised me today, so in case u ever want to have more fun sometime call me 03-9183-2495 ;)

#hawks smut #hawks x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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ggukkiereads · 3 years

Note

hi hii I was wondering if you had any taekook x reader fics ? 🙈 , also wondering if I could I go as 🗯 anon if that's okay? I love ur recs so much and ur page is a LIFESAVER , ily bae <3

🌷 Dear 🗯️ anon! I am sorry for answering so late. My drafts are all messed up but I was able to focus on this. On my 📍 pinned post, I actually asked if you meant love triangles or MMF smut but you didn't reply. So, I'll just put both =)

Enjoy! Much love and credit goes to all these wonderful writers who brought these fics to life 💖🥳

TaeKook Fics (Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook)

Love Triangle/s

M/M/F Smutty One Shots/Series

#ReadwithMe (fics in my reading queue/planning to read)

Love Triangle

All I Want @ardentlyjae - series [6/6] | 126k | War AU, Soldier!Taehyung | Heavy Angst, S

I actually read this on AO3 but I realized it’s on tumblr too. I remember this fic every time I hear Kodaline’s All I Want, which the fic was inspired by

Anima Meaology @arckook - series [5/5] | 26k | Soulmate AU, soulmate glitch (those with mismatched tattoos on their wrist) | A, F

I read this long ago on AO3 when I had this soulmate AU-fixation phase and I saw it on tumblr recently. Just had to read it again 🥺

Aquarium, Part 2 @whatifyoulivelikethat - two shot | 6.9k | cheating/infidelity, healing/comfort, second chances | A, F

I really like this comfort fic 🥰. Also shows that people deserve second chances, even the person who caused so much hurt. Screamed about it here and here

Change @junghelioseok - series [10/10] | 39.2k | a kind handsome stranger (Taehyung) makes you question your deteriorating relationship (Jungkook) | A, S, F

can I just say that Taehyung is such a sweetheart here 🥰? I always envision Paris Taehyung 2018 in this

Everything Goes @jamaisjoons - one shot | 24k | Fuckboy!Taehyung, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Stranger!Jungkook, unrequited love | A, S (really angsty)

First Light @inktae - one shot | 24k | Bestfriend!Taehyung, Masked Jungkook who can’t seem to leave the forest, Fantasy AU, based on hotarubi no mori e | F

If you’ve seen my fic recs list, inktae is always part of my recs. The way they write is just emotionally and visually haunting. Their works are just masterpieces. This is beautifully heartbreaking and heartbreakingly beautiful.

House of Cards @aiimaginesbts - series [10/10] | 40k | infidelity au, taehyung in an arranged marriage with someone else, roommate Jungkook | A, S, F

don’t we all want to have a roommate like Jungkook who will be there to comfort you over your heartbreak over someone else?

Stealing the Bite by wildernessuntothemselves - series [6/6] | 37k | witch!reader x werewolf!taehyung x vampire!jungkook, supernatural au, fantasy au | S, A

I mentioned before that some are divided re the ending, so I wonder what’s going to be the reactions of others

The Muse @daddychims - one shot | 30k | Author!Reader, Bestfriend!Taehyung, Fuckboy!Taehyung, Coworker!Jungkook, Taehyung offered OC to watch him have sex with another so she could write an erotic scene | S, A, F

The Universe of Us (read on mobile) @/taesthetes (officially closed her account) - one shot | 21k | Dream AU, Fantasy, Slice of Life, Kimi no Nawa-inspired | F, A

I am never going to shut up about this fic lol. It’s not exactly a love triangle, ugh hard to explain but please read this wonderful fic. Check their other KTH x R x JJK soulmate fic Cloud Ten too.

When You Least Expect @johobi - series [12/14 + drabble] | 118k | Slow Burn, Love Triangle, Drama, Childhood Friend Taehyung, set up with another guy (Jungkook) | S, A, F

ugh, I want to put another tag about Jungkook but I guess it’s a surprise. I just love the drama 🍿

🌷 I’m forgetting two more fics but I’ll update this once I remember. I haven’t read recently released fics too! I’ll add if there are good ones that come along

MMF Smutty One Shots/Series

A Piece of You @httpjeon - one shot | 13.9k | abo dynamics, camboy AU, camgirl AU, fan jungkook joins the cam session | S, F

All’s Fair @kimvtae - one shot | 13k | soulmate AU, college AU, dating Taehyung for a year but different name (Jungkook) showed up on OC’s wrist (lol it’s not a problem if you can get them both) | S

Blacklisted @/httpjeon - one shot | 21k | dom/sub AU, CEO AU, “after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men” | A, F, S

Business @btssmutgalore - two shot | 28.9k | executive!reader, inventors/start-up owners taekook | S (seriously, how could I have missed including this here)

Dulce Periculum @forgottenpasta - two shot [2/2] | 16k | Hybrid AU, Tiger Hybrid!Tae, Owner!Reader, Wolf Hybrid!Jungkook | S, A, F

Easy Like Sunday Morning @ofsugakookies - one shot | 11.8k | boyfriend AU (yes, both of them), dom!taehyung, sub!jungkook | S, PWP

It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right @imaginethisbts - two shot [2/2] 11.6k | Hybrid AU (dog hybrids) | S, A (side note: I realized I’ve read all of their fics! give their masterlist a try)

Just Kidding @/whatifyoulivelikethat - series [5/?] | 21.1k+ | nympho OC, friend Taehyung, tae’s roommate Jungkook | S, kinda F, crack

this is actually fun 😊; and the episodes are written in a drabble-ish sort of way so you won’t feel like it needs to be updated to get the story moving. It’s basically just reading fun scenarios of nympho OC and these two satisfying her needs *wink wink

Not So Digital @jiminables - sequel to Digital Boy | 2.7k | camboy!taehyung, bestfriend!jungkook, short mxm | S, slight F

Playing to Win @tayegi - one shot | 8.6k | FWB AU (tae), sort of enemies to lovers (jungkook), TaeKook (mxm), originally Taehyung x OC (fwb) | S

okay this is one of my favorites! I’m amazed at how the power dynamics were written. Taehyung seems a dom with OC but with Jungkook he is all soft and sub; then, there’s that dynamic between Jungkook and OC who disliked each other originally. I just found the shifting so interesting and the writer was able to display these changes in dom/sub behavior among the three characters really well

Pour Up @jungkxook - one shot | 14k | fuckboy AU, fratboy AU (applies to two of them), one sassy OC, one kind of jealous Koo | S (thank you dear author for reposting this! 🥰)

Shhh @bang-tan-bitches - drabble (with OT7 sequel) | 2.7k | PWP (just pure hot imagine)

Shameless @imaginethisbts - one shot | 5.1k | established relationship (jungkook x oc), Taehyung’s POV, exhibitionism | S (not exactly threesome, because JK and OC are just doing it in front of people, Taehyung had a bit of action in the end)

Sugar & Spice @divine-bangtan - one shot | 20.8k | Kiki’s Delivery Service!AU, Baker AU, Noona AU, Assistant!Jungkook, Rich!Taehyung, pining Koo, a bit of M x M | S, F, A (it’s all good everyone ends up happy 😊)

Sugar and Spice @sunkissedjk - two shot [2/2] | 8.6k | Your friends ask you whether you prefer sugar (jjk) or spice (kth) | S

ugh this is such an indulgent imagine. If taekook are your friends and they help you decide what type of sex you prefer through a demonstration, wouldn’t you want for multiple demos before deciding? *wink wink

Sacrilegious @therealmintedmango - part of the Gods and Monsters series | 15.6k | Demon!Jungkook, Fallen Angel!Reader, God!Taehyung | S (so sinful 😈💦)

Sweat Pea @nitaescence - series [10/10] | 63k | DDLG!AU, caregiver!jungkook, caregiver!taehyung, little!oc | S, F, A

so I’m glad there was an ask about caregiver!jungkook because I remembered this. I actually checked if there’s a follow up drabble because the ending is open to any interpretation so I’m curious how other readers interpreted it

051 + Scum’s Wish @scriptmin - one shot | 3k | bestfriend!jungkook, pining!oc (unrequited), rebound!taehyung | S, A

it’s actually kind of sad 😭 but I added this because it's good to have variety. Not all smutty pieces will be a happy one

Tattooed Two @/httpjeon - one shot | 8.5k | tattoo artist AU, boyfriend Jungkook joined by his bestfriend Taehyung | S, F

The Doms Next Door @tatertotthethot - series [3.1/?] | 33.8k+ | BDSM AU, Poly, Neighbor AU, Tattoo Artist AU | S

I really love this series. It’s so funny too, I remember Jimin here - he’s THAT bestfriend you want to have. PLUS TaeKook are absolutely hot. If you're not interested in being a sub or partaking in bdsm, you will reconsider

The Hush Series @suga-kookiemonster - two shot [2/2] | 16.9k | coworker’s friends TaeKook, sort of E2L (Jungkook), dom!taehyung, a bit of voyeurism | | S

okay, I really like author’s writing. It can be about sinful delicious smut scenes but I noticed the members always have this developed characterization. I actually find Taehyung so adorably charming - makes me wonder if irl tae is secretly sinful too behind that sweetness lol

Thic Trilogy @btsinned - series [3/7] | 37k+ | CEO AU, Hybrid AU, College AU, Chubby!Reader | S, F, A

🌷 I’m throwing in fics in my reading queue #ReadwithMe

Attitude Adjustment @s0seo - one shot | 11.8k | Roommate AU | S

Chain Reaction @kissmetae - one shot | 3.2k | boyfriend Taehyung and friend Jungkook helping OC relax | S

Cherry @kpopstories - series [4/?] | 29k+ | college AU, fuckboy AU, love triangle | A, S, F (this is part of my ongoing reading list)

Cobalt Blue @hauntedlilies - one shot | 11.3k | artist AU, “you asked Jungkook to draw you like one of his french girls” | S

When You’re Mad @honeyj00ns - one shot | 3.8k | established relationship (boyfriend Jungkook), enemies to lovers Taehyung, Taehyung is JK’s bestfriend, Christmas AU, College AU| S

Madam Cupcake @craztextae - series [6/?] | 69.2k+ | Sugarbaby AU, Idolverse, idol!jungkook meets OC through an app called “sugarmamas(.)com” | S, F

Player Two @minjoonalist - one shot | 10.6k | Gamer!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Jungkook, Boyfriend!Taehyung, Brat!Reader | S

Tag Team @goodnight-tae - one shot | 5.2k | stripper AU, TaeKook are roommates and friends who share most things 😉 | S, PWP

Whoa @bangtanlalaland - one shot | 4.7k | skater!taehyung, 1970s AU, coworker!jungkook | S, PWP, Crack

posted: 2021 March 12; updated: 2021 May 12

link to other fic recs here

feel free to recommend a fic

#🌷 chats #taekook x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic recs #taehyung fic recs #taekook smut #taehyung smut #jungkook smut #ggukkiereadingcollection #🗯 anon #asks #bts x reader #bts smut

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Protector

Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

“Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

“Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

“Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

“No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

“When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

Something hisses.

His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

“Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

“Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

Well, technically, the sprite found him.

“There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

“Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

“I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

“Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

“You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

“This? This what you want?”

The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

“That’s it? You done now?”

The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

“…you’re welcome.”

The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

“Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

“I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

“Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

“Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

Virgil just nods.

————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

“There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

The dog just barks. And changes color.

He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

“Alright, the book it—whoa.”

The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

“She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

“Sir, you’ll die!”

“She’s still—“

The top of the house crashes down as—

Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

“I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

“Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

“Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

“…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

“Ah, I see.”

And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

“Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

“Now breath on it.”

The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

“That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

“Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

“If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

Get it? Surefire?

Shut up, he’s hilarious.

————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

“Good season, Anbel?”

“Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

“Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

“Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

“No charge.”

“Come on.”

“No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

“Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

“Why do you assume that I did something?”

Virgil just gives him a look.

“…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

“Uh-huh.”

Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

“Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

“Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

“Have any others reported anything?”

“Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

“Where is it?”

“Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

…between them.

Virgil holds very, very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

“I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

The breeze rustles through the leaves.

“I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

The trunk shifts again.

“If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

There.

The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

“Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

“Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

“You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

“How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

His eyes widen.

About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

“That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

“It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

“It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

“I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

The growls get closer and his foot slips—

“No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Okay…okay.”

He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

A low hiss sounds in his ear.

He just manages to avoid a scream.

“Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

“Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

“Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

“So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

“No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

“Hey!”

Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

“That was rude.”

The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

Virgil’s chest tightens.

One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

“Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

“Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

“Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

Does it…want to play?

Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

“Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

The kraken chirps.

He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

“What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

“You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

The kraken insists.

Sure. Why not.

Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

He never was one for dragon hunts.

The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

He never promised to hurt anything.

Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

This feels like something else.

There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

The cave is right there.

He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

It’s quiet here.

He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

…wood, eggshells…

Okay, look.

Look.

Virgil’s tired, okay?

It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

He knows what he’s doing.

He does!

It’s fine.

This is fine.

This is so utterly fine right now.

But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

Whatever.

Virgil cracks an eye open.

“…hey, there, dragon.”

Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

“Um…fancy seeing you here?”

The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

“Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

Shit.

A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

“Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

“Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

He pauses.

Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

“I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

“Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

“You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

No response.

“We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

“Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

“Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

He yanks.

The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

“Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

“I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

“Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

It looks…wrong.

It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

He turns when the dragon starts to move.

It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

“Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

The dragon huffs.

With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

“…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

His fists clench.

“They hurt you.”

Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

“Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

“This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

“…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

“The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

“No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

“…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

It’s always the same.

Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

“I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

“Thank you.”

————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

This one’s a bad one.

Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

“….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

“If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

“Shh, the both of you.”

“This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

“Oh, don’t you start!”

“Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

“Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

“Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

“We’re not scary, shut up.”

“You’re scary.”

“All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

“There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

“Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

“Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

“Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

“You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

“Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

“I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

“Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

Oh.

“…you’re the sprite.”

“I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

“…the mastiff elemental?”

“Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

“Can you guess who they are?”

One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

“Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

He smirks. “Janus.”

The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

“You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

“Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

“He took me out!”

“Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

“Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

“Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

“You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

“You’re the dragon.”

“I am. But you can call me Roman.”

“…does it still hurt?”

“Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

“I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

“You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

…shhh…

“I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

“Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

“…you could say that.”

“Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

“You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

“H-help?”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

“Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

“Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

“Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

“As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

“Did you—is that my—“

“I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

“What did you want?”

“We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

“It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

“You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

“You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

“Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

“Careful, dear.”

Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

“But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

“Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

“We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

“And me,” Remus says.

Patton nods. “And me.”

Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

“You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

“Help? With—with what?”

“The nightmares.”

“Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

“But there must be something we can do.”

He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

“So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

“They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

“Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

“You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

Who protects the protector?

“…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

“Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

“F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

“Let us protect you.”

“Protect me?”

“Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

…well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

“While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

“So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

“It was not!”

“Yes, it was!”

As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

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