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nnight-dances · 11 months

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REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

3K notes · View notes

thefantasyden · 1 month

Text

The Art of Resistance

Pairing: Hyunjin + F Reader

Genre: Angst, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff.

Warnings: tension between exes, friends/exes to lovers, best friend Han, some arguing, teasing, unprotected sex, confessions of love, tender sex, hints of dirty talk, angry sex but not really.

Word Count: 5078

Synopsis: You and Hyunjin had already burned each other once. When Hyunjin gets a girlfriend, old feelings rear their ugly head, and you're forced to face the undeniable truth: He was never yours. Maybe he never would be.

Click here for the accompanying playlist

He was hesitant.

You had never known Hyunjin to be hesitant.

The Hyunjin you knew was always so sure of what he wanted. His touches may have been rushed and needy, but they were always firm in that he knew you were what he needed, and he had never felt an ounce of shame or fear in showing it.

But here he was. Sat 6 feet across from you as you watched him hesitate to put his arm around her shoulders as if he feared he may be burned by the action. Watching it unfold before your eyes felt wrong. He seemed so unstable and unsure in that moment that you almost swear it couldn't be your Hyunjin in that seat.

Truthfully, he wasn't your Hyunjin. Officially, he had never been your Hyunjin to begin with. You knew this. Your fear of commitment had blocked his path every time he had attempted to take what you had to a different place, and you could admit that. But he was yours in every way that mattered. He was yours at 2am when his panting filled your room and his lips locked with yours. He was yours in the afternoons when every stroke of his paintbrush was fueled by thoughts of you. He was yours deep within his heart when he diligently taped over the cracks you'd created because he thought having you in pieces was better than not having you at all.

She was nice enough. Small, gentle, and polite when she spoke. She was so vastly different from you. You who never feared taking up space. You who never fussed over the palatability of your words. You who consumed Hyunjins every waking thought with no regard to how desperately he was trying to distract himself by diving into everything that opposed you. She was nice enough, but she wasn't you.

"Isn't she a peach." Your voice rings like a bell in Hyunjins ears, his eyes locking on your face as you sink into one of the chairs placed to his left, your legs crossing as you sipped at your coffee Your tone was anything but genuine, a look of annoyance creasing your eyebrows where they furrowed.

"She's sweet. Pretty, too." He can't make eye contact when he speaks. He was still too weak for that, fully aware that your eyes were his biggest weakness. If he let his thoughts stray to the way they once sparkled when you looked at him, he wasn't sure he'd ever make it back.

You push the feeling of your heart being torn into by some unforgiving creature down to the pit of your stomach where it settles like sediment at the bottom of a murky river and purse your lips for only a moment before willing your face back to its neutral look of disinterest.

"You must really like her." You study his face while he formulates a response. He could never lie to you even on his worst days, and the brief knitting of his brows and subtle scrunch of his nose was telling enough on their own.

"She's nice..." There's nothing more for him to say, sure that the more he tried, the more he would be feeding in to the intention behind your question. He was determined not to do that anymore, even if it caused the strongest ache of despair to pulse in his chest.

It's as though he can't breathe when you walk away from him with little acknowledgement other than the soft nod of your head without a single hint of emotion to clue him into your thoughts. Any air he can manage stings at his lungs as his mind becomes a tangle of webs running circles which always lead back to you, even as the woman he's convinced everyone he has fallen for slips herself back into his arms with a warm smile on her face. All he can think is of how painfully different she was to the person who has brought him comfort for so long.

It's strange for you not to speak. Weeks pass with little more than "Are you okay?" From him to you even when you're sat on the couch of his dorm right in front of him, Han's arms wrapped around you as you feigned interest in the series he had been so eager to show you. You almost feel ashamed for depriving your devoted best friend of your full attention, but you're helpless as your mind wanders to a deep place within you that yearns for it to be Hyunjins arms that wrap delicately around your waist. The tension was thick and suffocating, and it seemed your dearest friend was the only one who was blissfully unaware of its weight.

"Hello? Baby, are you even listening to me." Jisungs voice calls to you through your cloudy thoughts, and you finally snap back to reality, humming a quiet apology to him.

"Sorry baby. What were you saying?" You almost think you see a look of disgust playing on Hyunjins face in your peripheral at the use of the pet name, however it's quickly dismissed as nothing more than wishful thinking.

"Channie, Changbin, and Hyunjin are gonna join us for dinner on Friday! Changbin is really excited about the long islands." The sweet man's voice echoes around your head as you fight to keep your attention on him, grateful for the break in conversation that you're offered when Chris starts shouting to him from the bathroom about the mess he continually left with his hair products. You're clear enough to spare a thought for the messiness of your friend and how endearing you found it, briefly noting your appreciation for the man who matched your chaos as you quietly make your way to the kitchen unnoticed, carefully avoiding any contact as you slink past Hyunjin to escape the unbearable proximity.

Friday sneaks up on you all too quickly, and you're packed into a booth with the four boys as Changbin rambles about how good the drinks are, paying no mind to the conversation as you study Hyunjins face, his eyes locked on his phone. You knew his expressions far too well to miss the frustration gracing his striking features, his bottom lip occasionally pulled between his teeth as the faintest sigh sounds through his nose.

"Hey, do you guys remember that one time we went to the river? The water balloon fight?"

The question holds thickly in the air and Hyunjins fingers grip his phone tighter, his eyes meeting yours as you acknowledge the memory that had caught you both by surprise.

You couldn't forget that day if you tried. You were freshly 18, sneaking around with the boys when they were just bright-eyed trainees. That day was one of the few fond memories you shared from the short time Hyunjin had truly been yours and the mint shampoo he used to use is almost too real to you as you're flooded with a confusing mixture of yearning and pain, the image of young Hyunjin laughing as you hid behind a tree, causing your chest to constrict with emotions you had spent years learning to crush into a box.

You're snapped back into focus by Changbin's warm laughter, half heartedly smiling along as the men shared their fondest moments. It feels like it goes on forever before you hear Chris speaking, unaware of the silence that follows.

"How's the girlfriend, Hyunjinnie?"

Jisung and Changbin share a look, and the warmth of your friends hand searching for yours under the table is a welcome anchor which you grip with a strength that you're sure you'll have to apologise for later, the silence almost deafening in spite of the bustling atmosphere of the world moving around your table.

"Yeah... she's... good. She's doing good." An uncomfortable laugh follows the response, and you don't attempt to hold back the astonished laugh that leaves you, the 3 drinks you'd downed at Changbins request having lowered your inhibitions just enough to loosen whatever filter you may have relied on if you'd been completely sober.

"You should have invited her, Hyune. She could be my new bestie." You practically sing the words, your voice holding a sickening sweetness that somehow only Jisung and Hyunjin catch, his eyes boring into yours as if the challenge you.

"I think she's probably too nice for you."

To anyone else, it would sound like a joke. It would just be playful banter between oldest friends. Unfortunately, you knew there was a specific kind of venom lacing those words that was reserved for only you.

It's the first time you've found yourself at a loss for words around him. At any other time, you would have found some variant of a witty response or backhanded compliment to cushion the blow, and you'd have recovered in mere seconds. You're almost embarrassed by the ferocity with which such simple words were currently burrowing their way into your stomach to settle in every deep dark crevice of your being.

You stifle your self-pity with another round of drinks and find yourself graced with a welcome numbness that leads to a complete lack of hesitation on your part when Chris suggest you spend the night at their dorm, his concern for your safety having you in immediate agreement. It's not a shock that their are no objections and Hyunjin is grateful that he has been spared the task of inviting you himself, having long accepted that his own concern will always outweigh any rational thinking he may subject himself to.

You've sobered up ever so slightly by the time you're stumbling through the door to the dorm, Changbin glued to your hip as your giggle about something only the two of you were clued in to, the remnants of that joy following you through the rest of your evening as if blanketing your brain in a way that would finally offer you some semblance of peace from your usual pining.

Even the deepest of joys can't last a lifetime, however, and you're forced to remember that fact when you're sitting on the kitchen counter with a mouthful of ice cream, your one vice interrupting your silent musings with the same light footsteps that you'd memorised with frightening detail.

"I didn't know you were up."

There's no distain in his tone like you might have expected. There's barely an ounce of disinterest. He's almost... warm, with something akin to worry tinting the tips of his words.

"Well, I am." You shoot back blankly, fixated on your spoon as it dug senselessly into the tub you were holding.

"You know... it's a shame about your girlfriend..." A strange sense of confidence fills you, and you finally dare to look up, breath hitching in your throat for just a second as you take in the sight of Hyunjins messy hair and his plump lips, his eyes heavy from sleep. It was hard to think he could be anything but an angel when he was the picture of beauty. "I miss you sometimes."

He doesn't miss the twinge of honey dripping from your words, a faint smile tugging the corner of your lips.

"Don't..."

"Sorry, baby. You're right." You hum to yourself, tucking the lid back onto your tub and pushing away from the counter, cracking the freezer open to hide the evidence of your late night affair. "I shouldn't be so quick to confess things like this, should I."

Hyunjin can't sleep that night. He can't sleep most nights when he's fixated on you. Did you really miss him? He knows better than to think you were just playing with him. You act tough and heartless, but he's seen you with all of the boys. He's seen the way you jump to help when one of them needs you. He's seen you lay on the ground to avoid scaring stray cats. Hyunjin knows your heart as much as you try to hide it from him. He spends hours hunched over his sketchbook, and he doesn't realise how early it's gotten until he hears you leaving at 6 am, your boots thumping against the floors. He would never understand why things had to be so complicated.

None of the boys see you for a week and a half after that. Even Jisung can't get you to come see him for more than a moment. The running excuse is that you're busy with work, and it's a pathetic attempt at a lie when there's never been a day throughout your friendship that you weren't willing to drop everything to see your favourite boys.

This is the longest Hyunjin has ever gone without speaking to you, and the ache in his chest is constant and burning. You'd been one of the most consistent parts of his life all these years in spite of how messy your relationship was, and it was to the point where he couldn't remember life without you. He couldn't even bear to think of it. The way he needed you was something that was embedded in his soul at this point. It was instinctual, altering him on a chemical level and he wanted to hate it almost as much as he wanted you.

There's a loud knock at your door that startles you out of your self pitying daydreams from where you've been nesting on your couch, nursing your disheveled feelings. It doesn't prompt movement from you until you hear it a second time, quieter than the last. You still don't open the door, however. Not until your phone lights up with a 3 word request from the person you'd least expect.

"Hyunjin?" You only slightly open the door, but he doesn't falter as he pushes past you and into your living room. His face is flushed, and his hair is messy, yet you still think he looks like the product of some divine intervention.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice cracks briefly, and his eyes are searching yours for some sign of understanding, groaning when he can't find what he's looking for. He's fueled entirely by repressed emotions when he reaches out to grab your face, his lips connecting with your own in a bold kiss that knocks the breath from your lungs, your body being pressed back against the door as you fail to return Hyunjins passion, frozen by your pulsing confusion.

"I broke up with her."

You blink back at him, your face remaining blank as you process what he's said. You don't want to believe that it had anything to do with you, unable to handle the idea of getting your hopes up only for them to be crushed again.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No you're not! Do you even know how fucking unfair this is?! I was trying so hard to get over you!"

The words set something alight within you and you're pulling him closer by his belt to plant a kiss that could rival the previous, his hands sinking in to the flesh of your hips. He can't get close enough to you, but his body pressed flush against your own would have to suffice as you force his coat off and his hands slip under your shirt to wrap around your back.

Every touch is the product of years of pent-up anger and confusion, your mouths only parting briefly as you stumble down the hall toward your bedroom. Your skin burns as he moves from your mouth to your neck, his teeth nipping painfully at the skin as if it was his life's mission to mark you, itching to claim you in the only way he thought you might allow.

"You're gonna kill me. God. Do you know what you've done to me?"

His teeth trail along your shoulder, his fingers tugging at your shirt until you help him remove it, his thoughts interrupted by the sight of your unmarked body bare in front of him. He's not sure where to begin with the sheer volume of things he wants to do with you.

"I haven't done a fucking thing." You spit the words out, aggressively reconnecting your lips with his own while he lays your body back against your bed, fumbling as he unbutton his jeans and attempts to kick them off with about as much grace as Bambi. You're doing you both a favor when you take his distraction as an opportunity to slip your shorts off, reveling in the hungry look on his face when he finally lays eyes on your uncovered pussy. He can't think about trying to get his underwear off, choosing only to push them down just enough to free his aching cock. He'd usually take his time with you, always ensuring you were ready for him, but there wasn't time for that now. It had been so long without you that he was on the edge of losing his mind if he didn't have you.

Your hips press up toward him, and he locks his hands under your thighs, pressing them up toward you as he takes your desperation as an invitation, rutting his cock along your slit just enough to cover it in your fluids for a superficial attempt at easing the burn as he plunges into you, watching your pussy stretch to accommodate him as he inches the entire length of his cock inside of you. He should be concerned by the wave of feelings that crash over him. He shouldn't feel so at home in your bed and he shouldn't feel like he was finally able to breathe with his throbbing cock sheathed deep inside your dripping cunt, but he did. The small amount of shame and guilt he might have felt about the circumstances of your reunion is swept out of his mind the second he hears your sweet, airy moans.

Your nails are digging into his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you as he begins thrusting into you slow and forceful, tip brushing against your gspot with every movement as your thighs are pressed closer to your chest. He ignores your quiet pleas for him, fixated on where you're connected. There wasn't a single thought running through his mind that wasn't about claiming you. Even if he couldn't have you in the way he so deeply craved, he was determined to make sure your body would only ever be satisfied with him.

"You drive me insane. You know that?" He whispers to you, dropping your thighs in favor of planting his hands beside your torso, taking in the look of pleasure on your face. You attempt to hide yourself under your arms, and he immediately grabs at your wrists, pinning them beside your head as his hips speed up, fucking into you like he had something to prove.

"You've fucking ruined me. How am I supposed to move on when I've seen you like this?"

He pauses, pulling out to manhandle you on to all fours, your ass in the air captivating him as he presses into you again, gripping your hips as his own snap into you, burying his cock to the hilt repeatedly, your face smothered into the pillows as you do your best to cover your moans. He won't have it. His hand finds your hair, and his fingers tug at the strands, forcing your head to the side so that he can hear the beautiful whines and whimpers that flow from you like his favourite melody.

You've never finished just from his cock before, but the way you clench rapidly around him has him convinced he can make it happen and when he sees tears stinging in your eyes, he knows he can. The filthy sounds of your dripping cunt consume him as his cock is swallowed by your walls, your moans becoming choked out breaths as your cunt grips him almost painfully, spasming around him.

He carefully rolls his hips into yours to help your ride out your high, and once he's sure you're finished, he's pressing the full force of his body against yours, pinning you to the mattress as he uses your overstimulated cunt to push himself over the edge, barely able to pull out successfully before he's painting your ass with thick ropes of white, his vision blurring and his ears ringing with the intensity of his orgasm.

It takes him a few minutes to find the strength to roll off of you, his mind just clear enough for him to think to grab a handful of tissues from your bedside table to clean you off with before he was settling into your sheets beside you. He'd almost forgotten how familiar your home was. The scent of your laundry detergent, the plush toys that littered your bed. It's all a painful reminder of what he almost had. What he's never quite been able to call his.

"I'm sorry..." Your words are mumbled between sniffles as the dam of emotions you've both been nursing for years finally comes crashing down, and he's reaching for your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers. It's unclear to him whether the action was to settle you or himself.

"What do you want from me?" He sounds hurt. The pain he's been feeling is clear as ever, and you can't stop the tears from flowing, turning on to your side to face away from him as you sobbed. He couldn't handle it, wrapping himself around you and holding you as close as he could, his own tears staining his skin as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your head.

"All I've ever wanted was you."

He's about to question you when you turn in his grasp, finally meeting his eyes. His heart breaks at the evidence of your own heartache, and he wants nothing more than to take it all away from you.

"I'm scared, Hyunjin. We've been here before. We ruined it." You sniffle again, and he instinctively reaches up to wipe your tears with his thumb, a frown painting his features as he allowed you to feel your feelings.

"I can't lose you."

He breaks. The tears are flowing between you, and he's holding your head against his shoulder as you bawl, quietly whispering that you're okay and that he's there. Through all the years of chaos, he had never once thought about leaving you. He couldn't. You were the living embodiment of everything pure and meaningful to him.

"Baby." He whispers, hand sneaking under your chin to tilt your head up so he can meet your gaze. "You won't lose me. You can't." He pauses for a moment, debating with himself over his next words. He has his own fears about being so vulnerable, but in the safety of your room, he's sure he can find the confidence to be honest with you.

"I think... I think it was always supposed to be us. I know that I was made to exist with you. And if somehow we were only made to crash and burn, then that's exactly how I want to go down."

There's no way for you to respond that would do him justice, and you have to opt for your lips meeting his, pouring as much passion into the kiss as you could and hoping he could feel it too.

He could. He always does. He's holding your cheek, thumb rubbing circles on your skin as he kisses you back with a hint of desperation, pushing you just a little so that he's leaning over you now, your bodies never disconnecting, even when you're panting for breath. You're not so worried about suffocating when his tongue plays at your lips, and you welcome the intrusion as it mingles with your own, your combined spit coating your lips as you try feverishly to consume each other in every way humanly possible.

The feeling of him shifting to his rightful place between your legs is another much needed sensation, and you wrap them around him as if to trap him there, scared you might wake up from the dream you were experiencing.

"Baby." He pulls away from you and presses feather light kisses to your neck as he whispers. "Can I taste you? Need to show you how much I want you."

Words won't make their way from your lips, fearing your voice might crack. You nod eagerly, tugging at his hair slightly to convey just how much you needed him.

There's no second thoughts. Nothing could stop him as he moved carefully until he was lying on his stomach, arms wrapped around your thighs as he tentatively licks a firm strip along your slit. He'd almost forgotten how sinfully good you tasted. It was like an addiction for him and once he started, there was no chance of him stopping.

He laps at your clit for a while, playing with the pressure and alternating with sucking gently at the bundle of nerves. He can feel every new wave of arousal dripping from your already soaked cunt. The delicious sounds you make spur him on, a finger teasing at your entrance as his tongue dips down to drink you straight from the source, a growl sounding in his throat as the taste of you encompasses his senses, surrounding him from every angle.

You're begging him for more before he finally presses his finger inside of you, the rigid feeling of your walls becoming accustomed to him lulling him into a deeper sense of comfort. It was something spiritual to have you like this for him. The feeling of peace and pride that coursed through him made him feel as if the entire purpose of his creation was to worship you.

He knows one finger isn't enough, and he has to place an arm over your hips to hold you down, slowly easing a second finger inside of you. There's nothing he loves more than the way you plead for him, whining as his tongue resumes its efforts on your clit, circling the bud and sucking firmly as his fingers massage your gspot, your walls clenching around him as he pushed you toward your second orgasm.

You can't think, overwhelmed by the flames of pleasure lapping at your skin as you tried foolishly to fight back your high, practically screaming his name as it all came crashing down on you, your cunt squeezing his fingers and making it difficult for him to continue, choosing to use his other hand to rub your clit and ensure you got the full force of the pleasure he was offering you.

You swear you've been given a glimpse of heaven. Your hands are grabbing at him, needing him to soothe your overwhelm, which he is equally as eager to do, kisses planting across your cheeks and mouth. His body is flush with yours, and his hands are smoothing across your arms and thighs, taking in how soft your skin was under his touch.

"Hyune. Please."

He knows what you're asking for. He always knows exactly what you need and when you're so sweet beneath him, asking so politely for him, he can't deny you.

"Okay baby. You're okay."

He's careful this time, taking it slow as he nudges his cock into your aching entrance, his fingers lacing with yours where he presses your hands into the mattress. His touch is gentle, and he's pouring every ounce of his love into you, hips grinding lazily against you as he stimulates your gspot. The way you stare up at him with wide eyes and your mouth open slightly has his heart fluttering, and he needs to kiss you again, groaning into your mouth as your tongues meet, your own sounds swallowed by his needy kisses as his thrust pick up speed, an arm sliding under your waist allowing him to tilt your hips up, his rhythm stuttering when you gasp at the new position. You felt so full and so hungry for anything he could give you. You needed to be consumed by him.

"I love you." He whispers against your lips and your cunt squeezes him in response, your eyes briefly searching his for any sign of hesitation before you return his sentiment, whispering your declarations of love against his mouth like a prayer that only he could understand.

The two of you have never made love like this, and he never wants it to stop but the way you grip him has him dangerously close to the edge and there's nothing he can do to stop himself from letting go when you start begging him to fill you. Your words are almost incoherent, and you look like you're going to start sobbing if he says no. He wants nothing more than to make you feel good. He wants to give you everything you could ever ask for and show how devoted he was to you. To his soul mate.

"Gonna fill you, baby. Gonna claim you."

The possessive statement combined with your overstimulation has you cumming on his cock before you can even realise, the throb of your cunt milking his cock as spurts of his cum fill you to the point where it's overflowing around Hyunjins length.

He fucks you through it until it's painful for him and even then, he can't bring himself to pull out, instead scooping you into his arms so that he can hold you tight to his chest, your heartbeats matching rhythm as your breath syncs and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. There's nothing but love between you, and it feels like everything has finally fallen into place as you drift off into the sweetest dreams.

You're both MIA for 2 days, hidden away in your apartment getting reacquainted with each other in your best attempt to make up for lost time. It's not until Chris shows up at your door with Jisung, only intending to check in on you when they see him Hyunjin walking out of your bathroom in a towel and finally connect the dots.

It's no surprise when they force you to let them in, grilling you both for every detail, Jisung squealing in delight when you finally get to telling them that you were together again. The surprise comes later when they tell you that they've all been rooting for you the entire time because you were the only two people in the world blind enough to miss the obvious feelings you'd both been harbouring.

#hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin fic #hyunjin x y.n #hyunjin x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x y/v #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids hyunjin fluff

497 notes · View notes

joshym · 1 month

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

That Ghost x Soap with their daughter art has me seriously fucked up (thanks @ethereal-night-fairy)

I can't stop thinking about Soap and Ghost trying to raise Bee on their own in the disco baby au after this ask from @mockerycrow.

Those first few nights when they're completely blindsided. Simon in a full blown shut down because he cannot process anything that's happening, emotions running him over at full speed because he's terrified of being a Dad, he's terrified of ruining a child, he's terrified of becoming his own Dad, he's terrified of not being good enough. He's afraid that Bee will grow up with a target on her back, that she will end up in danger or worse because of their profession. And he can't stop thinking about you. He can't stop thinking about how all they were trying to do was protect you when they left, how all they wanted was for you to be okay, to not have to wait, to not have to be emotionally tortured for how ever long they were going to be gone. How they didn't want you to have to bury them. He can't stop thinking about how he failed you. How he promised you he'd always take care of you, that they'd always be here, and when you needed it the most, they made decision to leave you. He cannot forgive himself. The thought that they did it to better your life has long gone out the window. He hires a PI to try to find you, with zero luck.

Johnny is the opposite of a shut down. He's in a free fall. He's feeling everything, all at once. He runs out onto the street after they read the note, sprinting down the block, searching every face for you. He holds Bee for the first time when he comes back, taking her out of the carrier because she's sitting in it, on the kitchen table while Simon stands three feet away, staring at her with his arms crossed. She's fussing, and Simon is frozen, and Johnny doesn't know what do so he just, holds her. He rocks her. He sings to her. It all comes somewhat naturally to him. He fluctuates between heartbreak and anger. He tortures himself by staring at Bee sleeping in her crib at night just so he can see something that somewhat resembles your face. He cries himself to sleep. He dreams about you. Simon overhears him telling Bee stories about you at bedtime, or bath time or meal times. Johnny tells Bee about how beautiful you are, how sweet and kind you are. He tells Bee how much they loved you, how they wished they had been there, how they made a really big mistake. Johnny scoops baby food into Bee's mouth, all while explaining to her that you worked at an art museum, and loved to paint. He describes your paintings to her at bath time, and puts Bee to sleep trying to hum lullabies of your favorite songs.

Time passes. They find Bee's medical records, they get her chart from the day she was born. She was three months old, when you left her at their doorstep. They read the physician's notes, about how Mum was alone, how Mum was given a long list of support resources for PPD. Johnny is distraught. Simon fears the worst.

Simon retires early, so he can be at home full time. There's a ceremony, small. Gaz and Price are there, along with Johnny and Bee, who watches her Dad accept some honor medal that he doesn't care about from a man in a fancy uniform. Simon lets her chew on it the whole way home, which Johnny hems and haws about, but Simon doesn't care. He doesn't need some shiny piece of metal. He has almost everything he wants or needs in life. Almost.

Simon learns how to be a Dad, and he becomes a pretty good one at that. He's the first one to make Bee giggle, one night after a nappy change and getting her into bedtime clothes, when he's letting her lay on the floor for her usual tummy time, and he groans when he gets down on his knees. She thinks it's hilarious, and he spends the next half an hour doing it over and over again, exaggerating the sound of his old knees just to see her face light up.

Johnny is a natural. He just already knows how to do it all. He's not nervous when he holds Bee, he's easy with it. Cradles her every which way, gets her to fall asleep anywhere. He can tell the difference between her hungry cry, her full nappy cry, her "I'm having feelings but I have no words" cry.

Bee gets croup right after she turns six months. Simon has a panic attack over it, and they both lay on the bathroom floor with her while it fills with steam, counting each breath her little lungs take.

Bee turns one. They have a birthday party. It's another small affair, but Price and Gaz come, along with a few others that live relatively close. She spends half the day curled up on Uncle Gaz because she cries ridiculously every time Johnny or Simon try to pull her away. Gaz gloats about it to Price non stop. They sing happy birthday, the guys "help" blow her candles out, and everyone watches Bee smash a vanilla cake overzealously and try to stuff as much of it into her mouth as possible. Price films the entire thing for Laswell.

Simon's phone rings, right after the cake. It's set to vibrate, and it startles him from his back pocket. When he glances at it, it's a number he doesn't recognize, which is even more strange. He moves away to accept the call, and Johnny gives him an odd look, but Simon waves him off. No sense in worrying him.

When he presses it to his ear and says hello, there's a sharp intake of breath... and then your voice. Saying his name.

"Simon?"

#peaches writes #disco baby au #simon riley #johnny soap mactavish #soap x ghost

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bonefall · 3 months

Note

God I am so tired of Bramble fans who refuse to use critical thinking and believe that brambleclaw and squilf are equally bad. Many also hate on moonkitti's video which they most likely haven't even watched or misconstrued points in it. You can like a character without defending all their actions please I'm begging you

And people will sometimes jump to their defense, saying that people just dogpiled them for liking a character the fandom doesn't like, and while that can happen, sometimes people are actually dogpiling them for ignoring abuse and insulting creators with different opinions

(Some discourse happened on Twitter recently about this but it's something I've seen happen before, I'm not specifically talking about anyone)

I'm going to be honest and drop my feelings.

Never have I ever actually SEEN a Bramblefan "get dogpiled" for liking Bramble.

I come out here on my massive soapbox every couple of weeks and drop whole essays on this guy, I chat casually about how important he is to me as a character, both as someone who was abused in a way similar to Squirrelflight AND as someone who can relate to Bramblestar's situation, and before BB got so large and my attention was easier to divide I even ran an AU called Sweet Nothings which had a "big brother" Bramble take in it.

There is no shortage of Bramblestar-related posts around here, yet, I have never, NEVER gotten shit for when I talk positively about Bramble.

In fact, he's commonly cited as one of the favorite cats to see on this blog from my audience. I get praise for addressing him with nuance, explaining how his actions are abuse while also keeping him human, talking about how his life is a painful cycle of self-doubt that makes him double down on his worst decisions. Every time I post about him, I get an influx of comments centered around how my takes on him are appreciated.

What I DO see is people who make art where they try to bothsides him and Squirrelflight, or say something completely false about his behavior, or straightup post DARVO tactics to defend their fav's honor. When someone makes a comment that goes "uhmm? Bit strange innit?" they call it "harassment." Or when people block them, they call that "receiving hate."

OR when someone makes a vaguepost like "Heyyy, DARVO is an abuse denial tactic where the abuser or their apologists Deny the abuse took place, Attack the accuser, and then Reverse Victim and Offender to claim they were actually the person harmed. Bramblestans are playing this out, step for step, and that's bad!" they call THAT dogpiling.

Meanwhile Moonkitti got death threats and was actually harassed for posting Bramblestar Is Worse. To the point where she is hesitant to ever make another video on the topic.

So y'know what? Hot take? The stans don't actually like Bramblestar. They like the vague idea of a sadboy character who broke free from his dad's legacy so they slurp up the framing of the notorious abuse apologist writers, and they get mad when people who have critically engaged with the books don't see what they desperately crave.

How can you really LIKE a character if you can't engage with their actions? If you need to surround yourself in an unpoppable bubble and can't accept anything he's done in the 20+ years he's been active? How can you truly love a man without all his mistakes?

It's sooo hard to be me, Tumblr User Bonefall, the ONLY one who likes Bramblestar correctly. It's rough out here.

#bone babble #Bramblestar #abuse apologia #tw abuse

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michwritesstuff · 4 months

Text

She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

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ivysangel · 16 days

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I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

#i hope this makes sense #it's 5 am and i haven't slept yet #★ just yappin ★

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chrollosbm · 5 months

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Sunflower Fields: a Choso Love Story Chapter Four

You're broken from a past relationship, thinking you only deserve the worst. Choso comes along, making you realize you deserve the world and more. Will your ex-boyfriend let you go without a fight? (Choso x black!reader, yandere Choso)

art cr: einruji__ on x

previous chapters

pls support me on ao3, it would mean the world to me

You only heard from Choso twice since you bumped into him at the cafe. Once last night to confirm your date, and once a few hours ago to get your address.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were incredibly excited to go on this date. Not just because you had never been to a carnival before, but also because you were going on with Choso. The mysterious, sexy, and as you just found out, bossy man from the club. There was something about him that intrigued you, and it wasn’t just the way he looked. The way he carried himself in such high regard, his cockiness, and his dominating aura were all just so sexy. You weren’t the type to ever listen to anyone, let alone a man, but if his commanding spirit wanted to control you, you would have zero problems with it. You felt possessed, as if someone different had come into your body and was making you want to obey this man.

Ever since his surprise appearance at your favorite coffee shop, you had been thinking about how bad you felt for basically ghosting Choso. You didn’t go out of your way to contact him after that night at the club, too focused on healing your heartbreak to care. It sounds bad, but it was the truth. You spent about another week, sulking, crying, screaming even. At some point during that week while you were waiting on a text from Suguru that never came, you mustered the courage to block his number and all of his social media. Tears dropped onto your phone nonstop as you did so, but you did it. You also promised yourself you wouldn’t reach out to him this time, knowing that no good would come from it and so far, you were keeping your promise.

You were so damn proud of yourself.

The next couple weeks you were flipping from crying yourself to sleep every night and having extreme anger outbursts. Said outbursts included screaming yourself raw into a pillow, burning photos of you and Suguru, and calling Andrea on a rampage (in which she spent thirty minutes trying to calm you down.) You were doing this healing thing pretty well, and although a few weeks before the thought of even speaking to a man repulsed you, Choso was slowly becoming the only exception to that rule.

It was currently six pm and you decided it was time to get ready. You had gotten back home from work about thirty minutes ago and were too excited to just sit still and wait for eight o'clock to come, so you decided to give yourself some extra time to get ready for your date with Choso.

After a quick shower that involved exfoliating and shaving everywhere (it was only the first date, but you never know,) you moisturized your body, and put on a silk robe to get ready. It was kind of chilly tonight, so you could wear a little more face makeup today. You didn’t go too heavy, but it looked like you actually tried. Your hair was still in knotless braids, which you decided to keep down, letting it cascade down your back.

For your outfit, you were having trouble deciding between your abundance of sweaters and sweatshirts, but you ended up choosing a slightly oversized maroon sweater that complimented your skintone the best. You paired it with bootcut dark wash jeans, then decided to finish the outfit off with a pair of black Doc Martens. You put on a small gold necklace and gold hoop earrings to match.

You gave yourself one final satisfied look in the mirror when you heard a knock on your front door. You checked the time and saw that it was 8 pm on the dot. Well, he’s very punctual, it seems.

You walked down the stairs, shoes in hand, trying to calm your breathing and the rapid beat of your heart. You were starting to feel guilty with how thrilled you were to go on a date with another man so soon. You felt ashamed considering it took you only just about a month to feel comfortable enough to start seeing someone again. Then again, your ex was seeing other people almost the entirety of your relationship, so there was nothing to be ashamed of, right?

You opened the door and were very pleased at the sight. Choso was standing on your doorstep with yellow sunflowers in his hands, and a small smile playing on his lips, his birthmark dancing with the subtle movements of his face. You took in his appearance and sucked in a breath, astonished at the sight before you. He had on an oversized black sweatshirt, dark wash jeans, and black Doc Martens to match yours. His hair was in his signature buns, this time a little neater though, his small bangs still on display. There was a silver chain that was barely visible underneath his sweatshirt, and he was wearing an expensive watch with his usual diamond earrings in his ears. His dark eyes were on you, waiting, so dark that they were almost haunting.

He was fucking beautiful.

“You got me flowers.” You finally let out, surprise in your voice. It was rare that you ever received flowers, let alone bought them for yourself. You liked them, but nobody nor yourself had ever gotten them in the past, considering you’d dated pretty shitty guys and you never went out of your way to get yourself any. The thought just never crossed your mind.

The smile remained on his face as he responded. “I got you flowers.” He stated back at you in confirmation. “And in your favorite color.” His eyes had a mischievous glint in them and you rolled your eyes.

“I guess you figured it out.” You grabbed the flowers from his hands gratefully, and stepped to the side, gesturing for him to come inside. He stepped inside with your permission and began to look around your apartment, an unreadable look in his eyes. You gave the flowers a small smell and smiled, looking back up at him.

“They’re beautiful, Choso. Thank you.” You said genuinely. They truly were beautiful, they seemed like they just bloomed today, so fragrant and delicate. “I’m going to put these in a vase really quick, then we can go, okay?” You asked and he gave you a small nod, still looking around in your apartment, making you nervous.

You hadn’t had many people inside your place: only Andrea, Suguru, and your siblings. It made you anxious knowing he was now in your personal space, getting a glimpse at who you really were. Your apartment was nothing crazy, small and cozy, consisting only of one bedroom and bathroom, a living room, and a tiny kitchen. The walls were a plain cream color, but it was decorated with photos of your friends and family (which consisted of only you and your sisters,) yellow paintings you had bought at a few local markets (a few which were actually sunflowers, weirdly enough,) and random trinkets you had gotten from traveling. Your place was clean and smelled like your favorite scented candle, so you weren't afraid he would think you lived in a pig’s sty, but it was still nerve-wracking to have his presence in your apartment.

You quickly walked into your kitchen and scrambled to find a vase that you knew had to be in one of your kitchen cabinets, somewhere. When you finally found one, you placed the flowers in, and filled it with water with a nervous tap of your foot, Choso’s silence in the other room making you want to leave your apartment as soon as possible. You had nothing to hide, but who knows? You could’ve left a vibrator sitting out on your living room table and he could be sat there in horror, ready to run for the hills (doubtful, but your mind was convincing you of every worst case scenario.)

The vase that seemed to be taking ages to fill with water finally reached the top and you walked to the living room with vigor to find Choso staring at the collage of photos you had on one of your walls. You mentally sighed in relief and placed the flowers down on the wooden end table next to your couch (with no vibrator in sight.) You stepped next to him and noticed him staring at the photo of you and your sisters a few years back, standing in front of the three of yours first home together. Your older sister had the keys to said home in her hand, as young as eighteen years old, with a huge smile on her face. Your younger sister was grinning just as wide and clinging onto an obviously annoyed you in the photo, with a scowl on your face. The picture showcased your differing personalities almost perfectly and it was your favorite photo of the three of you together.

“Are these your siblings?” He asked, still looking at the photos. He was pointing to said photo. “You guys look alike.”

You and your siblings were put into foster care when you were only fourteen years old, with your sisters being twelve and sixteen. You were all dealt a horrible hand in life, with both of your parents being addicts. You and your sisters had been basically fending for yourselves for years, going to food banks to get food, and sometimes having to shoplift for basic necessities. Everything hit a turning point when a neighbor called Child Protective Services on your parents, realizing you and your younger sister had been home alone almost everyday for a month while your older sister was out, working shitty part time jobs, on top of going to school, to provide groceries for her younger siblings. Your parents went on long drug benders often, not caring even a little if their children had food, water, or even electricity. When you were put into foster care, you all remained there for two years, with your older sister gaining sole custody of you and your younger sister quickly, due to her hard work. She ran her own traveling hair business and continued working her part time jobs from the moment you were all put into foster care, knowing she had to provide for herself and two younger children.

Her hair business grew with the help of social media, and the day she turned eighteen, she had enough funds to apply for places to live, all while filing for custody at the same time. Everything seemed to fall into place soon after that, with the three of you being able to have your own space, shortly after she was approved. It was a great change, since you all had been moving from one foster home to the other, way too often. Thankfully, you were all able to stay together in said foster homes, as the three of you fought to stay together each time.

Because your sister’s hair business grew, she was soon able to get her own shop. This also meant longer hours and more clients. A result of that meant you had to take care of your younger sister by yourself most of the time. She was old enough at the time to know how to take care of her basic needs, being fourteen years old, but you still had to be there to make her meals, help her with her homework, and drive her places she needed to be. This, sadly, prevented you from having a normal teenage life (if that were even possible, given the start.) It was okay though, all you wanted to do was make sure your younger sister was provided with a better childhood than when the three of you were living with two addicts who sadly succumbed to the life of hard narcotics. Your parents never tried to find the three of you, at least to your knowledge, and while it did depress you at times, you felt better off without them.

You snapped out of your thoughts and gave him a nod as he turned to look at you. “Yeah, that’s them.” You said softly, barely audible, still thinking about the shitty life you had to live when you were young. “It’s just the three of us. They’re my entire world.” You said, sincerity in your voice.

You felt him staring a hole into the side of your head and heard him give a small “Hm.” You turned your head to him, eyes connecting with his, a glint of sadness in his eyes, although his face remained straight.

You noticed his change in expression and raised an eyebrow. “Hm,’ what?” You questioned.

“Nothing really.” He tilted his head, another unreadable expression in his eyes. “I’m pretty close with my brothers, as well.” His lips twitched, a smile almost forming, dark orbs still having a tint of gloom in them.

“Really?” You asked, surprised. You weren’t sure why, but he didn’t seem to be the family oriented type (then again, you knew close to nothing about him.) “How many do you have?”

“I’m the oldest of four.” He answered. “It’s just the four of us as well, our parents left us when I was barely eighteen. Pretty much ghosted us.” His smile disappeared and you noticed his face began to harden slightly, his jaw clenching.

You were shocked. Who would’ve thought the two of you would’ve had that in common? To you, Choso was the sexy, quiet guy from the club, a mystery waiting to be solved. It felt weird to actually learn things about him, to understand how much depth he actually has. It was a tragedy that the both of you were abandoned by your parents at such a young age, having to fend for yourselves when you were supposed to be having a normal childhood. Choso was the oldest though, and you could only imagine what that must’ve been like for him. You watched your older sister work her ass off to provide for two children, so you can’t imagine what Choso had to do to provide for three.

It was your turn to give Choso a “hm,” as a response, and his face softened as he looked down at you. “You don’t get to ‘hm’ me. Tell me what you’re thinking.” He had a smirk on his face now, and his pools of darkness were staring deeply into your eyes, seeming to hypnotize you to answer him, which you did with no problem.

You cleared your throat and your eyes remained on his, trying to act unphased by his intimidating presence. “Nothing really.” You mocked his previous answer and he rolled his eyes before you continued with a sad smile. “We just seem to have more in common than I thought.”

His car smelled like him: fresh laundry and a type of men’s cologne that you seemed to not get enough of. His vehicle was extremely clean on the inside, as well as the outside, and you were afraid your shoes would dirty up the carpet covered floor, even though you knew they were clean. It was a newer car, seeming to be extremely high tech and spacious. Before he pulled off, he turned on your seat warmer and had the passenger side of the car’s heat set to the perfect temperature, wanting to make sure you felt toasty before the two of you went on your journey. You didn’t fail to notice this and smiled to yourself, happy at the amount of attentiveness he was showing towards making sure you felt comfortable.

The car ride to the carnival was filled with a comfortable silence as The Weeknd played in the background, and you were pleasantly surprised by his taste in music. You didn’t think he would have bad taste per say, but it seemed like he took every song from your playlist and decided to play on the ride there. Your music tastes were very similar and you found yourself giving him the occasional, “I love this song!” With a bop of your head, in which he would respond with a lingering look at you, a closed lip smile on his face.

The two of you pulled up to the very busy carnival and managed to find a parking space close to the entrance. You were granted with the sight of flickering lights, the smell of fried food, and the loud sounds of rides, screams of joy, and games. You felt like a kid again, this time being able to experience true childhood. You had to hold in a squeal as you looked out the passenger seat window, the lights reflecting too many different colors in your eyes and felt Choso park the car.

You turned to him with childish glee in your eyes and a wide grin covering your face. “I’m so excited!” You exclaimed, no longer being able to hold your exhilaration. “I’ve never been to a carnival.” You said, truth in your words. Your parents barely provided funds for food, there was no way they would ever give you any money to have fun. As you got older, the thought of going to a fair never really crossed your mind, and it's not like Suguru was ever interested in activities like this.

Choso’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Never been to the carnival?” He repeated your words as a question and you shook your head, excitement still on your features. He looked at you with sadness covering his face, which he quickly fixed, thinking you wouldn’t notice. “Well, my precious sunflower, I’m gonna make sure you have the time of your life tonight, okay?” He said sweetly, his features softening, an adoring look in his eyes.

Your cheeks warmed and you nodded, unable to form words at his sudden mushiness and the nickname he had just called you. Sunflower? Cute. Different.

You watched as he stepped out of the car and waited for him to open your door patiently, just as he did before the two of you left your apartment. He opened it shortly after and extended his hand to help you get out, in which you obliged. His large and surprisingly soft hand enveloped over your much smaller one, fitting together like a puzzle piece. Before you could think, Choso was walking you towards the fair’s ticket booth, hand still in his. Goosebumps were all over your body at this point, as you prepared to let him lead the night.

Choso paid for a wristband for the two of you to ride unlimited fair rides and play as many games as your heart desired.

As the man at the ticket booth was putting the purple wristband on your arm, Choso let go of your hand and you had to hide your disappointment, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

As he finished, Choso suddenly had a big smile on his face, resembling yours from earlier. It was pretty scary, not because his grin was ugly, but because you had never seen an expression of such joy on his face before. His dark eyes were lit up by the differing colored lights and it looked like fireworks were going off in them.

“I have to admit…I invited you to the fair for a bit of a selfish reason.” He looked down at you, tilting his head with a look of mischief on his face.

You squinted your eyes at him, trying to understand what he meant. “Huh?” You asked confused.

“I love games. It’s my biggest strength and I wanted to show off for you tonight.” He explained, still smiling and let out a small chuckle, with a shrug. “Now that I know this is your first time at the carnival, I’m going to win every single game here for you tonight.” He promised with a determined look in his eye and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

“Choso…” You stared up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “You’re a fucking nerd.” You continued and started laughing the minute his eyes narrowed at you.

He rolled his eyes and waited for you to finish laughing at your own joke. “You say that now…” He folded his arms across his chest, biceps still flexing through his sweatshirt. You didn’t miss said flexing and he gave a small smirk when he noticed you checking him out. “but you’re gonna’ be going home with enough stuffed animals to fill a room tonight. Just watch.” He then placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you to the first game he planned to win, and you tried to not sweat as his warm touch through your sweatshirt was making you hot all over.

So, Choso wasn’t lying. He was winning every single fucking game at the fair.

It started with the ring toss. Yeah, it was pretty impressive the way he was able to make the first three rings on the same colors with no problem. Your rings landed, but on completely different colors. That scored you a big fat zero and Choso a small teddy bear that you gladly accepted, although you were shocked at how easily he won the game. It was like he didn’t even try.

After that, it was skeeball. You weren’t too bad at this either, but Choso dusted you once again, winning yet another stuffed animal, this time bigger because of his high score. Again, you gladly accepted the prize, but he insisted on carrying it this time. Again, you were surprised at the way he continued to be victorious with no effort at all. You started to wonder if he spent all his free time just playing games all day. Not that that would be bad, it would just be a little astounding. Choso, dark, mysterious, and intimidating, in his house, playing all day. It was funny to imagine.

The two of you played more games, in which you continued to be mediocre at, but he was a pro at them. He was telling the truth about being a professional game player, he was breezing through everything like it was first grade math.

At some point, the two of you had to place the prizes he won in his car, with him being unable to carry all of them at once, refusing to let you help him even though you practically begged him to let you assist him. You returned to the fair quickly after, Choso obviously excited to continue showing you his skills. He was so fucking adorable.

The two of you were currently playing darts and balloons and you were absolutely horrible at this, the darts not even landing on the board. They were somehow downwards sloping to the ground every time and you noticed Choso trying to stifle a snicker.

“Let’s see you give it a try!” You pretty much shouted at him and folded your arms at him, waiting for him to make his move, with a sarcastic tap of your foot. You knew he would show you out, but you still had some hope he would be horrible at this too.

He laughed at your sore-loser behavior and picked up the three darts. “Watch and learn, pretty girl.” He gave you a smirk, playfulness in his deep voice, which caused you to stick your tongue out at him, playfully, trying to ignore the pitter patter of your heart at the compliment. He then turned his head towards the board, shortly throwing the first dart towards the board.

Pop.

“That’s one.” He said, still staring at the board with complete seriousness on his face, aiming his next dart. Your eyes narrowed, and you waited for him to continue, annoyed at your deduction being incorrect.

Pop.

“Balloon number two.” He was smirking this time and you scoffed at him, unbelievably. Cocky bastard.

Pop.

“And that’s three…” He dragged out his words and turned towards you slowly, with an “I told you so,” look on his face. You sucked your teeth at his response, eyes still narrowed.

“You cheated!” You accused him and he let out a booming laugh, eyes squinting in the process.

“You can’t cheat at this game!” He exclaimed at you, defending himself while still laughing. “It’s about skill. I did tell you I was damn good.” He was smiling down at you now, cheerfulness in his globes of darkness, as you folded your arms with a playful pout on your face.

“Whatever,” you said to him, faking annoyance. “Aren’t you supposed to let me win, anyways? That’s the chivalrous thing to do!” He gave you an adoring look in response, coming closer to you. Your heart started to boom in your chest, quickly and skipping beats.

“It would be pretty impossible for you to beat me considering you scored absolutely zero points.” His large arms wrapped around your waist and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest. He was so close to you and he smelled so good, like laundry detergent and that cologne you couldn’t get enough of. You wanted to ask what he used just so you could buy it for yourself and spray it on yourself, wanting to be reminded of Choso.

You scoffed in disbelief, trying to cover up how flustered you actually were. “You are so damn cocky!” You pointed your finger in his chest playfully, looking up at him, neck hurting because of the height difference.

“I have good reason to be.” He responded, with a twitch of his lip. Your eyes widened at his insinuation and he laughed again.

“You are so expressive, you know that?” He pulled you closer and tilted his head down at you, his fingers caressing your lower back. “It’s adorable. Adds to your charm.”

Your cheeks warmed at that. Charm? You weren’t very charming, you were actually a mess. Clumsy, loud, blunt, rude. Not charming.

“Now, let me help you.” He snapped you out of your thoughts and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he placed his hands on your hips roughly, and turned you so you were facing the darts and balloons stand again. You gasped softly at his grip, somehow feeling crazy turned on by the sensation. Your back was against his hard chest and your ass was touching his groin. You knew your panties were moistening from this simple interaction, and your stomach was in knots as he leaned down to get close to your face from behind.

“It’s all about aim and force.” He said softly, close to your ear, giving you goosebumps and a small shiver. He kept one arm on your waist and grabbed a dart with the other, soon placing it in your hand and enveloping his large one on top of yours. His fingers softly made it so your hand was in a pinching motion and aimed for the target. “Your aim could be great, but it won’t matter if you’re throwing with no strength. Got it?” He said reassuringly and you simply nodded, unable to speak.

“Alright then.” He said approvingly and you felt him nod curtly, still holding on to you tightly, making you feel both on edge and motivated at the same time. “Now throw it.” he commanded, with a force, and you obeyed him quickly with no questions asked. How could you, with the way you knew he was watching you, intimidation in his aura. You squinted, trying to focus on the target, then threw the dart towards the board with might.

Pop.

You gasped as the dart hit the balloon, popping it forcibly. You clapped your hands in excitement, a huge smile on your face, pride swelling your heart.

His face was still close to yours and you felt his grip on you tighten every so slightly.

“Good girl.” He said softly, obvious seduction in his voice and your throat hitched at his sudden words of praise. At this point, you knew your underwear was a pool of your arousal. There was something about Choso's approval and praise that made you weak in the knees and you wanted so much more of it. Your heart was fluttering like a butterfly in your chest and you were afraid he could feel it against his chest from behind.

He gave your waist a small squeeze and the side of your forehead a small kiss before he moved away from you, making you pout. His warm presence was gone too quickly and the side of your forehead was burning, aching for his lips again. You turned your head to him and watched as he gave you a closed lip smile.

“Now, try it yourself.” He nodded at you with great encouragement in his eyes.

Again, like a robot waiting on its command, you followed his instructions with zero questions.

Pop.

You were actually jumping for joy now, unable to hide your excitement this time. You turned towards Choso, wanting his stamp of approval again, which he granted you with no problem. “Nice job, gorgeous.” He walked towards you, a smile on his lips and a fond look in his dark orbs. “I knew you could do it.” He finished sincerely. You cheesed back up at him, still giddy and bouncing like a true kid.

You ended up choosing a yellow, medium sized stuffed panda, which you insisted on calling “Choso Junior.” Choso didn’t mind, of course, finding it funny. You kept talking about it like a real human being, referring to it as “he” and “Choso Junior” instead of “it.”

“You wanna know why he’s called Choso Junior?” You looked up at Choso, still smiling as the two of you were currently walking towards a cotton candy stand. You briefly mentioned you hadn’t had cotton candy since you were as young as five, so Choso, of course, dragged you to the nearest food stall that sold said treat.

“Actually, yes.” He responded, and looked down at you with an eyebrow raised. “I’m all for this being our first child together, but why is it named after me? The bear is your favorite color after all. It should be named after you.” The two of you reached your destination, a small line ahead of you.

You squinted your eyes at him. “First of all, he. Not it.” You commented on his refusal to treat your new son as a human being. He playfully rolled his eyes in response and waited for you to continue.

“You’re right. He is my favorite color, but he looks more like you.” You explained and the confused look remained on the man before you. “His face is unamused and bored. And look! The dark patches around his eyes indicate how tired looking he is all the time. Just like his daddy.” You tilted your head up at him, a smirk on your face.

His eyebrows raised at you and he began to laugh softly at your commitment to the bit. “Great observation.” He stated as the line moved forward and placed his hand on your back again, guiding you closer to the front of the line. “I’m not unamused all the time, though. I’m very delighted when I’m around you.” He said it so casually, yet it set you on fire. Every little thing he said was getting a reaction out of you and you couldn’t tell if you hated it or not. It was like he knew exactly what to say, all the time.

The two of you reached the front of the line and he ordered for the both of you, pink for you and blue for him. He led you both to a bench nearby and you set Choso Junior down next to you, propped up, sitting up straight. You noticed the look of amusement Choso gave you and you shot him back a glance of playful annoyance, eyes squinting in the process.

Choso wrapped his free arm around your shoulder as the two of you were eating your cotton candy in silence, people watching.

You felt on top of the world. You were having the time of your life with Choso. You didn’t know you could have this much fun on a date. You were used to simple dinner daters, which were fine, but it was nice to do an activity with someone for a change. You were also surprised at how much fun Choso actually was. You didn’t think he was boring, but he gave off a vibe that he would be “too cool” to do something as child-like as going to the fair and playing endless games with you. Yeah, he wanted to show off playing said games, but you were also enjoying yourself. On top of it all, he kept his promise to you by winning enough stuffed animals to fill a room. You seriously didn’t know where you were going to put them all.

You suddenly felt his intense gaze on you and your assumption was correct as you looked up at him, being faced with his usual serious expression, this time with a look you couldn’t read in his eyes. He was pale in the bright moonlight, his clear, flawless skin glowing. The small pieces that fell from his buns were blowing in the light breeze of the wind and his rich, dark brown, almost black eyes were soft on yours. He was so fucking beautiful.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He stated seriously, emphasis in his words, seeming to read your thoughts. Your cheeks warmed and you gave him a stunned look at his confession. Your cheeks were so hot you felt like they were going to burn off.

Before you could respond, he leaned down and placed his lips on yours, softly and carefully. All the noise of the carnival seemed to fade away slowly, and all you could focus on was Choso’s soft pillows on yours. You were shocked at his sudden kiss, but quickly responded by moving your lips on his full, plush like ones in an unhurried way. You placed a manicured hand on his chest softly, wanting to feel him in some way on your palms. He tasted like mint toothpaste and blue raspberry, the flavor of his cotton candy. His tongue caressed yours softly and the arm that rested behind you was now placed on your lower back, pushing you towards him closer. He pulled his lips away from you shortly after, though, which caused disappointment to cross your features.

He noticed and gave you a small smile. “I know.” He responded to your dismay, a frustrated look in his eyes as well. “We are in public, though.” He looked around, smugly and you suddenly remembered where you were and you placed your hands on your cheeks to sooth the heat that began to rise again and gave you a loud, exaggerated groan.

He chuckled softly at your reaction and placed his pink, now swollen lips on your forehead, giving it a small smooch. “As much as I want to engulf you whole, it’ll have to wait.” He smirked at you, knowing he was working you up.

You narrowed your eyes at him and gave him yet another overdramatic groan, covering your entire face this time, making him laugh again.

This was definitely the best date you had ever been on.

Chapter Five is Posted

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