#definitely not an excuse to just stare at this outfit indefinitely

[jeongjaebae]

Love Station

⇢ Jaehyun x reader | AO3

⇢ 7k of fluff, heart fluttering moments, and meme references

⇢  You never expected anything good to come out of a train delay, much less for it to play cupid on this Valentine’s Day. 

Turning 23 wasn't something you were overly excited about.

Nothing good could come out of being this age anyway—you were starting to feel old and life was starting to feel stagnant. Besides, everyone's seen the meme about checking up on your friends born in a certain year because no one likes you when you're 23. But heck, you'd already felt that way for long enough so it doesn't really matter that it's your birthday today because no one liked you at 22 either. Or at any age.

Maybe that's why you're still single on this Valentine's Day, which coincidentally happens to be the date you enter your 23rd year since birth. Whatever deity that's up there probably planned this to give you a headache every year, making you watch couples all around you broadcast their PDA everywhere while you only became one year closer to growing old and wrinkly. And dying single.

"Are you on the train yet?" Yoojin's loud voice comes through the phone. "Also what are you wearing, because I'm having an outfit dilemma again."

"Almost at the station," you reply, checking the time for the sake of it. You knew your best friend would be late regardless of the occasion, so you never had to rush. "I didn't expect it to be so cold out here. Wearing the pink blouse with the bow, that black skirt, and some thin tights. Long coat of course."

Yoojin was your best friend of seven years and happened to be the complete opposite of you. While you were generally shy, she had no qualms about talking to strangers. She'd always been bold and unabashed with her opinions, attracting quite a large group of friends and enemies alike, whereas you have always stayed within your comfort zone of invisibility. And whereas you were completely dense and unlucky when it came to boys, she had a list of them long enough for the both of you.

"Tell me you at least have some tall boots on," she replies with some rustling sounds in the background as she probably flips her entire closet upside-down. "You should've gone with a warmer outfit; there won't be any boys around for you to impress! It's only your date with boring old me."

You roll your eyes and play along. "I'm dressing to impress the cute waiter, obviously," you say, "the one with the super sweet smile who looks like NCT's Doyoung." It's all made up, of course. In reality the two of you didn't have a reservation or even a restaurant in mind yet, and of course, there's obviously nobody who could ever be as cute as Doyoung.

Your best friend was all about being spontaneous and winging it, and even letting fate decide things.

"Oh you better hope that he's not out with his girlfriend tonight then," she singsongs. "Anyway, I'll go pick out an outfit now and bring a pair of leggings for you or something. Oh and before I forget, happy birthday!"

"Thanks," you say with a smile as you approach the train station. "I'll see you soon!"

It's slightly more crowded at the station than the emptiness that usually greets you at this hour, but that's not surprising since it's Valentine's Day after all, and people would have plans in the city. And just as you would expect, there are people holding big bouquets wrapped in a special paper with hearts all over it, packs of chocolates in pink and red boxes, and delicate single roses encompassed in beautiful ribbons.

It wasn't something that you felt like you were missing out on. You've never spent Valentine's Day with someone special anyway; it was always some sort of birthday celebration with friends. Until your friends started getting into relationships and then the birthday thing got pushed to different days. Either way you didn't mind because people don't need particular days to show their love for others, so Valentine's Day was all just a big marketing scam.

Or so you tell yourself.

The February air is cold and makes it hard to pry your transit card out from your wallet with your frozen fingers. When the machine nearby is finally free, that's when you go to tap your card.

"Don't."

A hand slides right in between your card and the machine, blocking it from being detected.

"Excuse me?" you automatically respond.

The first thing you notice about this annoying stranger is that he's tall, as it takes a while for you to look up to see the face of said annoying stranger. The second thing is that he's incredibly good looking. Nice skin, large eyes, and some evidence of dimples slightly visible on each cheek. A strong jaw line and sharp gaze.

But none of that matters because he better have a good explanation for you.

"Don't waste your money tapping your card. The train's been delayed and won't come until maybe an hour later."

"What? An hour? Is this some kind of joke?"

He shakes his head. "There was an announcement a few minutes ago but they'll probably repeat it soon."

"But it's not even April Fools Day," you mutter under your breath, but proceed to put your card away anyway. "Are you serious?"

That earns you a funny look from the annoying stranger, a mixture of a smile and a grimace of sorts. "Yeah, I'm really just going to go up to strangers and prank them by telling them about a train delay."

"Well, maybe if you're one of those YouTubers who go around pranking people for reactions?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, but your reaction was terrible, by the way. A two out of ten at most."

"Hey, you're the one who had to break the news to me like that!"

The corner of his mouth twitches but before he says anything back, the blare of the announcement comes on.

"Attention all passengers! Attention all passengers. The line 1 eastbound train is experiencing delays due to a technical issue on the tracks. It may be over an hour before the track can get cleared. Once again, the eastbound train is currently experiencing delays of an hour or more. We are sorry for the inconvenience."

"And there it is. Do you believe me now?" the annoying stranger asks, raising an eyebrow at you. It's not so much of an 'I told you so', but rather a sad 'welcome to the club'.

"Yeah... sorry for not taking you seriously."

"Nah, no worries," he shrugs and gives you a quick smile. The first you'd seen from him. "We're all just stuck here now."

When he turns to look at the announcement board, that's when you take the chance to really study him. He's dressed like he's walked out of a Korean drama: turtleneck and a nice formal jacket. He looks to be about your age, maybe a university student or fresh grad. Hair gelled up and parted at the side. Perfectly dressed to go on the perfect Valentine's Day date with his perfectly stunning girlfriend.

As perfect as it can be with this whole train delay issue anyway.

You follow his gaze to the announcement board and see that it now has red words everywhere, indicating all the delays of the trains. It definitely wasn't looking good. Even if Valentine's Day was nowhere close to being one of your favourite holidays, you were looking forward to at least seeing a friend on your birthday.

"Yeah, I guess so. On the one day I had plans in the city." You sigh at the thought that seeing your best friend might not be possible anymore.

 "I know the feeling," he frowns, somehow still looking just as good as before which is entirely a mystery to you, "I'm also supposed to be in the city tonight."

You nod, then pull out your phone to shoot Yoojin a quick text about the delay. The cold wind sears your hands and you yet again regret wearing so little when you knew this train station didn't have an indoor waiting area.  

"So, what are our options for getting out of here now? Do you think the buses are still running because we could probably take one?" he suggests.

The 'we' takes you by surprise, but then you realize that he's probably talking about everyone here. All of the ten or so people that are just stuck at this station in the cold for the next hour.

You grimace at the thought of dissipating his ounce of hope. "Well, the nearest bus station is all the way across town, so by the time we get there maybe the trains will have already started working."

The handsome stranger sighs. "Maybe an Uber then?"

"It'll be rush hour soon so that only works if you want to be going during the most expensive time of day using the most expensive form of transportation."

"Ah, that's true." He looks disappointed. "Hmm, if the trains don't come by the next hour, maybe I'll just head to the bus stop."

Oh how nice it would be to have a car to get there yourself.

Buzz. The phone vibrates in your pocket and you could already imagine how Yoojin would be reacting to your news. Hopefully she hadn't already started on her crazy makeup routine yet, because who knows if your meet-up could actually happen at this rate.

"It's chill, don't worry about it! I'll head to you instead. Text you when I'm near."

Sometimes Yoojin's spontaneity was just what you needed. You message her a quick thanks and then shove the phone into your pocket before your fingers freeze off.

It's quiet for a bit and you almost forget about the handsome stranger entirely until there's a crinkling sound and you find yourself staring at the rose in the pocket of his coat, the clear foil around it blowing gently in the wind. It was on the side facing away from you earlier, which is probably how you didn't notice upon first glance.

Of course, he has a girlfriend. With a face like that, who wouldn't have a girlfriend? Or boyfriend. Maybe even multiple.

"Special occasions, right?" The corners of his lips are curled as if holding back a grin, and like this his dimples are visible.

But why was he still talking to you? You figured he was probably just trying to be friendly seeing as the two of you would be stuck here for an indefinite amount of time. Maybe you'll even become all buddy-buddy by the time this ordeal finishes. While you weren't a fan of small talk or talking to strangers, it was nice to be able to have someone by your side who was experiencing the same struggles.

And besides, he clearly has a girlfriend so there was no point in writing that "strangers to lovers" fan fiction in your head.

You clear your throat. "So... Valentine's date with your girlfriend?"

"Valentine's—" he pauses for a second and you can almost see the gears turning in his head. "Right, it's Valentine's Day today. Nah, I'm celebrating my birthday instead." Then he holds up the rose up and glances at it as if he'd also forgotten about it. "And no girlfriend. This is for my cousin. Her boyfriend's overseas so it's hard for them to meet up, so I thought I would get something nice for her and keep her company."

That actually takes you off guard and causes you to replay the words in your mind to make sure you heard correctly.

"Wait, it's your birthday today? Really?"

He gives you a strange look. "Yeah, there are actually people born on Valentine's Day, believe it or not."

"That's not what I meant—"

"I'm just kidding." His eyes twinkle in amusement. "It's also your birthday today, isn't it?"

"What—how did you know?"

He chuckles. "Your reaction said everything."

"Wow, someone is a smartie."

"What about you? Valentine's or birthday date with your boyfriend?"

"Best friend," you correct him. "And yeah, it's a birthday dinner."

"That's nice. I've actually never met anyone else with a Valentine's Day birthday."

"Honestly, same."

His eyes curve up into crescents as he smiles with his entire body, and it's dazzling and is so bright that it makes you want to stare for just a moment longer. The two of you laugh for a while at that coincidence, still amazed.

"So, how old are you turning?"

You groan, "The age where no one likes you."

"Ah, I just passed that." He wrinkles his nose as if remembering how terrible a year it was. "But hey, can't have no one liking you at that age if no one liked you anyway."

His words immediately put an image of that roll safe meme into your head and you find yourself laughing.

"Wow, those are my thoughts exactly."

The handsome stranger only gives you an innocent shrug. His meme game was on point, and that almost makes your heart flutter for a second. Almost.

Another cold breeze whips your hair into your face and blows straight through your thin tights, making you shiver.

"Hey, um, I hope this isn't too forward... but since we're stuck here anyways for the next while, do you want to possibly go hang out in town?" He bites his lips a little, making his dimples stand out even more. "It just kind of sucks to see our birthdays go to waste like this. Only if you're comfortable with it though, but of course we'll be in public areas the entire time."

You couldn't believe your ears for the second time today.

On one hand, the logical voice in your head was screaming stranger danger because you just met him! You hadn't even exchanged more than a few sentences! On the other hand, you could already picture Yoojin telling you to never waste an opportunity, to go with the flow and live life a little recklessly. To stop waiting for a train that might never come, to stop waiting for perfectly planned moments in life that might never occur.

"So, what do you think?"

Besides, if he's not some crazy serial killer or anything along those lines, the only other danger you could possibly see was getting heartbroken. But of course there's no way you'd fall for a stranger in one day; you didn't believe in love at first sight or fate or whatever other mushy romantic cliches that movies love to portray. This would merely be a fun time between two people who happened to be stuck together because of a train delay, on a day that happened to be both of their birthdays. A simple coincidence, really.

"You know what," you smile. "Screw it. Let's go."

***

The smell of the arcade brings back memories from when you were a child—friends' birthday parties, hangouts in middle school, the occasional school trip. It had been fun as a child even though you hadn't been very good at any of the games and probably never won anything worth keeping. Looking back, you hadn't set foot in this place in years.

"We'll get the one with the most tokens," the handsome stranger—Jaehyun—says to the guy behind the counter, flashing you a smile when you raise an eyebrow at him.

Jaehyun. It had sounded so pretty when he introduced himself.

You'd been afraid that conversation would come out awkward and forced between two strangers brought together by no more than a train delay, not knowing where or when or how to start. But there was actually never a dull moment between the flow of words and laughter that made you feel as if he was someone you've known for a long time. The short walk to the arcade had been spent on reminiscing and comparing past memories of growing up in this town, brainstorming fun places and cool restaurants that you'd been to or have yet to go to, pointing at familiar buildings and telling funny stories about interesting moments spent in there.

"Come on, let's go." He leads the way into the main area where all the action is.  

The arcade still looks the same as the last time you were here, though everything seems smaller than you'd remembered it. Bright lights flashing from every machine, loud noises at every corner. So many games that you'd once thought it was impossible to play through all of them.

"Let's start with this one?" You point to the zombie shooting game. It was something that you had always wanted to try as a kid out of pure curiosity, but you'd been too scared to at the time.

"That one? Really?" He raises a brow at your suggestion. "Alright, but I bet I can beat you."

"I would also bet on you winning," you respond dully.

After choosing characters and weapons on screen, the two of you settle in your seats and finally start. It's like watching a horror movie where you expect huge jump scares at every corner except there's no music build-up or anything to warn you that a zombie might just show up. Horror was definitely not your forte but maybe he was better at handling these things than you were.

You get your answer when the first wave of zombies finally show up. Jaehyun screams. You scream.

Somehow you manage to shoot some of them by pure instinct guiding you, however your aim isn't exactly good with your eyes closed half of the time. By the time the screaming dies down and you notice that both your characters had died in the zombie battle, you finally turn to see how he's doing. The way his face is twisted in a mixture of utter shock and horror would've been something to laugh at if you hadn't been just as scared.  

"If I recall, someone said they were going to beat me at this," you tease after seeing the final score. Neither of you did particularly well, though your score somehow turned out to be much higher than his.

"You should've given me a warning that it would be this scary."

You burst out laughing at his expression. "I didn't know either!"

That's when you notice how you're clinging to each other. Your hand clutching his arm, his hand right on top of yours.

"Oops, sorry," you mutter and quickly detangle yourself from him.

"It's fine," he says with a laugh. "But yeah, those zombies were next level."

Needless to say, you guys don't go back to that game.

The arcade is quite empty on this afternoon and you're glad that most of the games are unoccupied and can be played right away. Even with everything going well so far, you still have the fear of having awkward silences and uncomfortable conversation.

It's a while later when you try again at a different shooting game, though luckily this time it isn't zombies that you're dealing with, so it isn't scary at all. It's a teamwork game this time, and what surprises you the most is just how good your teamwork turns out to be.

"To your left, in the corner."

"Phew, got him. Thanks," you reply, promptly shooting the character before he could shoot you. "Watch out—right above you."

"Got it."

It lasts a few rounds but you manage to make it to the end and finally clear the game.

Jaehyun's whole face is lit up when he turns to you. "Wow, that was awesome. Great teamwork."

He holds up both his hands for you to high-five, and just as your hands meet his, you can't help but notice the way they linger together a little longer.  

Time flies as the two of you go from game to game and you're trying your best to beat him at any game possible. While he does let you win some of the time, more often than not, he ends up winning. Though it's not like you could be upset about it at all when he looked so happy after each win, excitedly showing you his score or prize. It was definitely nice to be as carefree as kids again.

Yet there was something deeper with the adrenaline coursing through your veins and heart racing that it becomes hard to tell whether it may be from the excitement of the games, the warmth of his body right beside you as he patiently teaches you his strategies for winning, the bright smiles that seem to light up his whole face, or those damn dimples.

Why did this Valentine's boy have to be not only heartbreakingly handsome but also incredibly kind and considerate?

"Hey, you want to try one of those?" The sound of Jaehyun's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you silently pray that you hadn't been staring at him subconsciously. And if you had been staring, hopefully he didn't notice as he's pointing to the line of game stands at the side where the games are always rigged and you can never win big prizes.

"I've never won anything from there before, so I sure hope you're good at those."

He ends up picking a dart game out of all the options, but maybe this one would be easier than the rest.

The man at the dart stand greets you and explains the rules. "Are you trying to win something for your girlfriend?"

"Oh, we're not—" you start but stop as soon as you hear what Jaehyun says instead.

"It's Valentine's Day after all," he says easily then follows with a wink at you.

He didn't deny...?

It's three shots dead center to win one of the biggest prizes or five within the smallest ring. It makes your heart pound a little faster seeing Jaehyun so focused with his nice stance, sleeves rolled up slightly, and intense eyes on the target. However, he misses on the first shot with his dart going off the board.

"Well that's no fun," the man says, frowning at where the dart landed. "I suppose I could give you another chance, since it's Valentine's Day and all. Wouldn't want to end up empty handed, right?" He laughs to himself but puts the dart back in Jaehyun's hand.

"Thank you," he says, flustered judging by the hint of a blush that sweeps his cheeks. "I'm not usually this bad."

"It's okay! You're doing great, sweetie," you joke.

He rolls his eyes at you despite the way his lips curl up at the corners, then gets ready to throw the dart again. And this time? You're sure your jaw is to the floor when he manages to get all three darts to hit the board dead center. The man congratulates him for winning and then they disappear into the back room to pick a prize. Jaehyun later comes out holding the biggest dog plushie you've ever seen.

Once you're back outside after the arcade adventure, that's when he stops and turns to you.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like but I hope this is okay," he says quietly, gingerly handing you the giant plushie.

"It's great, Jaehyun." You meet his gaze as you take the plushie and he quickly looks away. "Thank you."

"You know, I'm really glad we ended up doing this. It's even better than what I had planned originally." Then he adds more quietly, "One of the best birthdays I've had in a while."  

"Yeah," you smile. "Me too."

It's only then when you realize that Yoojin and the rest of your plans had totally slipped your mind.

***

It's chilly outside as the two of you walk around town. Valentine's Day decorations were everywhere, with the chalkboard menus of local restaurants featuring couple meal sets with tons of hearts drawn around them, various pink and red plushies lined up on the windowsills of nearby shops, and even lamp posts on the streets covered with mini heart shaped lights. The sight of those things usually would've made you roll your eyes and pretend to puke, but somehow it doesn't seem to bother you quite so much today. It's as if you're seeing everything through a new perspective—one that might find the rosy decorations pretty and one that might understand the hype of such a holiday.

"Y/N," Jaehyun suddenly says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his side. Before you could even react, he's quickly switching positions with you so that you're sheltered between him and the wall of the nearby building.

Then he's turning to you. Hand on the wall behind your head, body leaning towards you.

So close that you could see the individual eyelashes framing his eyes.

But in the next instant he's looking behind him where a car drives by and splashes up a large amount of water from the melting snow on the side of the street. Which lands right where you were standing just a moment ago.

Jaehyun turns back to you, eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "Um, are you?"

"That's good." He glances behind him and then reassures you with a quick smile. "And yeah, all good."

"It was a close call. Thanks for saving me."

"Wouldn't want your clothes to be ruined by that." He laughs. "How are you doing though? It's pretty cold out here."

"I'm okay," you automatically reply.

That earns you a skeptical look. "Your cheeks are all red. Come on, let's go warm up somewhere."

When you resume walking, he's taking the outer edge of the sidewalk.

A couple of blocks later is when you find out that the place he had in mind turns out to be the local coffee shop. You'd never been there before but had always thought of it as a cute place when you pass by it, so when you enter, the interior definitely matches up to your expectations. It has a rustic theme with warm glow from fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and there's soft music playing in the background, a nice place to study if it's as empty as today.

Jaehyun buys you your drink. Kind of.

"I bought one, but they gave me one for free," he says, beaming when he comes back to the table with the drinks—a coffee for him and a latte with a cute little heart floating in it for you. "Maybe the barista was charmed by my smile."

"Hmm." You look behind him to see a sign at the front of the store saying, 'Buy one get one free—Valentine's Day special'. "Are you sure it wasn't because of my charming smile?"

"You're right, that could be it. You are quite cute."

"Exactly."

Wait, what did he just say?

You do a double take but he's merely staring back at you with dimples just barely visible and eyes sparkling through thick eyelashes that you could only wish yours looked like.

Suddenly it feels like the heater's on extra high in this cafe or maybe it was the way the latte burns your tongue as you take a big gulp. Whatever it was, it definitely succeeds in warming you up a little too well, especially your face.

"You okay? Don't burn yourself," he says, the amusement in his eyes betraying the concern in his voice.

You nearly spit your drink out at him. "Nah, no burn. I'm good, thanks," you say dryly.

Time seems to slow down as you relax in your seat, body finally warming up in the coziness of the cafe. The small corner you're in almost feels like a liminal space; such a transient place you'd only ever noticed while passing by, yet a whole different world on the inside where one can hide forever. Perhaps you wanted to hide here, to enjoy the fleeting moments of a strange but amazing birthday.

Conversation ebbs and flows though you're a little surprised when Jaehyun opens up about his life. His passion for music, especially, is what picks up traction as he happens to know your favourite group, NCT. From there it becomes a debate of whether Doyoung or Taeyong was the best looking member (you insist that Doyoung's Instagram was all the proof one needed, whereas he points out that Taeyong's sharp jawline could totally cut that VVS diamonds they keep singing about). You definitely don't tell Jaehyun the fact that maybe—just maybe—he's even more attractive than your NCT biases and that he could totally be an actor from a Korean drama.

Everything you hear about him makes you appreciate his vulnerability, yet you can't help but wonder if he's so open with just anybody. You were a complete stranger, after all.

Yet every time you see the twinkle in his eyes when your gaze accidentally meets his, part of you wonders if 'strangers' no longer fits the definition of where this strange relationship was going. It leaves you with wanting to avoid looking at him which is quite difficult with him seated directly across from you. Maybe you should've sat where your plushie was, taking up its own chair between the two of you, but it's too late and now you're left to deal with the audible thud of your heart every time you make eye contact with him.

And yet when you think about it, you realize that it wasn't Jaehyun's cute dimples or his deep voice or his lame jokes that had your nerves acting up.

It was probably the caffeine.

But maybe it was the small things that you hadn't even realized you'd noticed. Earlier at the arcade when he patiently taught you the games that you were unfamiliar with, letting you win games but also winning at them himself just so he could give you the prize. Saving you from a car first then from the cold with the warmth of the cafe. Opening the door for you, sitting closer to the door to block the cold wind from reaching you.

And how despite the number of reschedules and plan cancellations you both had to make due to the train delay, he hasn't pulled his phone out a single time. You admired how in the midst of all the chaos today, he was still nothing but calm and polite the entire time and seemed to have everything under control. He was a comforting presence that made you forget about the madness of the outside world for a little while.

Nah, it had to be the caffeine.

Still, you find yourself glad to be stuck here with him, even as far as dreading when you both had to leave. You're definitely appreciating Yoojin's ability to be late right about now.

A lull in the conversation has you sneaking a glance at your phone to check up on your best friend. There's no text from her as she's either still doing her extravagant makeup or still on her way here, but for some reason you let out the breath you held in relief.

"I wonder if the trains are running now." A glance out the window shows you the remnants of sunset and the quickly darkening skies. Then you cautiously throw out the question that you'd been holding onto for a while. Something that you'd been reluctant to bring up, carefully stepping around it the whole day, and something that he hasn't talked about either. "Oh right, didn't you say you would end up taking a bus? If the delay is still going on."

Maybe it's a test to see his reaction, maybe it's to end this vague relationship before you become even more attached than you already are. Because any rational person wouldn't just throw away all their birthday plans for someone they'd just met.

"Oh. Right." Jaehyun looks down and swirls the stir stick in his drink. Clockwise, counter-clockwise, back and forth. "I, uh, actually forgot that I didn't drive here today." He shoots you a sheepish grin then runs his fingers through his hair that has deflated quite a bit since you first saw him. "So can't exactly drive over to the bus stop."

You smile back weakly. "Ah, that's okay. There's probably a ton of traffic out there now anyways."

An ambiguous answer for an equally ambiguous relationship. It could definitely be a real excuse, yet somehow the thought of that makes you almost disappointed. Maybe there are no answers to the questions and uncertainties muddled in your mind.

"But did you want to get rid of me so fast?" He actually pouts at you, as if his regular face weren't already enough to break hearts.

"What? No, of course not? I—what?" you manage to get out.

"Okay, good!" The pout immediately goes back into his regular smile. "Phew. It's sad enough being single on Valentine's Day; no need to get rejected on top of that."

Then his phone buzzes and it finally pulls it out.

"As if anyone would reject you," you mutter under your breath while he's distracted.

It's true. You might've expected Jaehyun's appearance to be making up for other areas, or maybe even hoping he'd be too rude or too blunt or have a bad character. Because the cognitive dissonance in your head wants a reason or excuse to remain distant and emotionally detached from him. But the kindness and authenticity that you saw today just leaves you without a reason, which makes it that much harder to stop yourself from liking him.

"Sorry about that; what did you say?"

"Nothing!" You plaster on a cheerful smile.

"Okay, my cousin is going to be here soon."

"Oh."

Then there's the sinking of your heart, the inevitable dread that this unexpectedly enjoyable afternoon is coming to an end. Somehow it manages to crush the anticipation you had for your birthday celebration with Yoojin.

"You know, I kind of feel bad that you paid for everything today," you say. "Let me pay you back?"

"It's fine, Y/N. We had fun and that's all that matters."

"True, but you should've at least let me buy the drinks!"

That manages to make him smile but it quickly dies as he bites his lip, suddenly hesitant. "If you really want to..."

"Yes!"

"...you could just pay next time."

What.

"Next time?" you repeat, afraid to believe what you were hearing.

"I mean, if you—maybe—want to hang out again sometime?"

You open your mouth to say something, or maybe it was already open in your state of shock. Nothing comes out as if you lost your voice.

Jaehyun briefly meets your eyes before continuing. "Well, um—I just wanted to say that I had a really good time with you today. I know the train thing was probably an inconvenience to everyone else but to be honest, I'm kind of glad that happened." He laughs a little. Stops. Bites his lip. "And yeah, if you're down, we could hang out again sometime. Because I'd love to get to know you better."

Thud.

You could only stare back at him as the roaring of your pulse becomes all you can hear. The whole day you were telling yourself that it shouldn't be possible to develop feelings for someone within a day, almost trying to hold yourself back from enjoying your time with him to the fullest in the fear that you might be wrong. And it's not like you developed crushes very easily, but here in front of you was a boy so friendly and good-natured even to a stranger he'd just met, someone who really seemed to care about you.

"Jaehyun..."

He continues, "I know it's weird meeting like this, and I don't really believe in this whole fate thing where we just happened to be stuck here and we happen to have the same birthday. All I can say is that I really enjoyed talking to you and hearing your thoughts and um, youknowyou'rereallybeautiful."

The logical inner voice had been screaming stranger danger the entire time because you didn't know him at all! You'd just met him today! Yet the small fic writer voice in your head, which definitely sounded a lot like your best friend's voice, was trying to convince you that maybe fate does exist. That if it doesn't, how likely was it that you met someone with the same birthday which happened to be Valentine's Day? That you met at exactly the right time and that the train the two of you were going to take was delayed? That you managed to have one of the best birthdays that you could recall?

Maybe sometimes you need to let go of any fears and just live life to its fullest. Let yourself feel a wide range of emotions without being afraid of getting heartbroken. Stop holding back and just be true to yourself.

It suddenly feels too hot in the cafe once again.

"Yeah," your voice comes out quiet, unsteady, but his words give you the courage to reach over to hesitantly take his hand. "Today has been amazing and I'm so thankful that you're the one I was stuck with."

His eyes flicker to yours then away. "But...?"

"There is no 'but'. Jaehyun, I'd love to see you again."

"Yeah?" He lets out a long exhale before his face visibly brightens again. "That's a relief. I didn't think you would agree, but I didn't want to have you walk out of my life just like that."

Then there isn't a need for any more words as shy smiles are exchanged and fleeting gazes meet and there's a warmth bubbling in your chest. It's as if you spent the whole day worrying over nothing. That somehow, everything worked out. That maybe it was fate, and maybe it wasn't, but the connection you thought you felt wasn't just one-sided. It was something real, something tangible.

"Jeong Jaehyun!"

The booming voice jolts the two of you out of the moment and makes you immediately spring apart.

"Did you seriously make me take the train all the way here just for you? Who is this girl because she better be real nice for you to ditch me—" The loud voice from the woman walking into the cafe stops right when her eyes land on you. She smiles sheepishly, dipping her head lightly as if apologizing for her outburst. "Never mind; forget I said anything. I approve."

"Nice to see you too, Minah," Jaehyun greets as you both stand. You can see how his face is still flushed from earlier, but now he's put on a neutral expression again and what you'd seen just a moment ago has been erased. "Don't worry, I won't make you take the train back. I'll drive you home after."

"Oh, you have the car. Bless." Minah brushes her hair back, tidying it from the effects of the wind. Then she stops suddenly and narrows her eyes at him. "Wait, why didn't you just drive over if the trains stopped working?"

"You—have the car? I thought you said you got a ride," you muse out loud.

"Oh, uh. Actually I forgot I had it since I usually get a ride here and it would've taken too long to drive there in rush hour anyway... so... yeah..." He trails off and shifts his weight from one foot to another, and it's even more evident how flushed his face is, from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

You hear a snort and see Minah practically shaking with quiet laughter.

"Y/N!" The bell at the door rings again as Yoojin steps into the cafe, bringing a rush of cold air in with her. "There you are! And oh—" she stops mid-sentence when she spots you with Jaehyun, his cousin, and the massive plushie sitting in its own chair. "Minah?"

"Yoojin?"

"You guys know each other?" you ask tentatively.

"We were friends in high school!" Yoojin replies. Then gives you a questioning look. "Minah, it's been so long. We should totally catch up."

Minah nods enthusiastically, jumping up to give Yoojin a warm hug. "Totally!" Then she briefly glances at Jaehyun. "Well, I was supposed to have dinner with my little cousin over here but if you and your friend are free, then we could all go somewhere together?"

"How about we head over to that cute little diner that was our hangout spot for the longest time?" Yoojin suggests with a glance over at you and Jaehyun.

Minah squeals. "Let's do it; it'd be just like old times!"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I wanted to borrow Y/N for a bit," Jaehyun says. "We'll let you guys catch up in peace without a third and four wheel."

"Yoojin, we can always hang out another time if you want to go with Minah."

Your best friend looks at you suspiciously with her eyes narrowed. "Hmm, yeah that works. I'll call you later and you better give me all the details though."

"Okay, deal."

And with that, they both head for the door. Yoojin turns to give you one last wink before they're gone.  

"I guess it's just us." Jaehyun's eyes are sparkling when they meet yours and he gives a gentle smile before shyly holding you hand. "We're probably too late for my reservation, but there are some good food places not too far from here."

"So..."

"Have dinner with me?"

"Hmm, I thought you didn't have your car here."

He looks pained. "Y/N!"

"I'm just kidding! I'm actually starving so let's go."

***

It's hours of delicious food, good conversation, and shy glances later that he finally drops you off at home. When your phone buzzes this time, it's not from Yoojin—it's a text from an unknown number followed by an image attachment.

"I have a feeling this is very false for you :)" it reads. And your heart skips a beat when you see the image.

It's the "no one likes you when you're 23" meme.

On the day of your 23rd birthday, you definitely weren't expecting anyone to like you, just as you haven't for the past 22 years. But with the words in Jaehyun's text that you read and reread, the light fragrance of the rose now in your vase and the giant plushie on your bed, and your mind replaying his bright smile and dimples and the sparkle in his eyes, it seemed like today was different.

Maybe today, someone just might like you when you're 23.

#jaehyun fic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jeong jaehyun #nct fic #nct x reader #nct x you #valentines day fic #jaehyun fluff #loosely based on real life events #not that i met jaehyun but he did come to my city #ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY JAE BAEEEE #happyjaehyunday #Extra RushedTM #how many times did i rewrite this in the past day hmm #nearly pulled two allnighters wow #ok yolo if no one reads this it's 7k of me figuring out #how to write dialogue tags hAHAHA #my fic

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

The Baby Project | Julie Molina

Requested: Yes/No

hold on wait because I’ve got something here— julie x fem reader— and like you know how school pairs you up with people for the whole ‘take care of a baby project’ or whatever it’s called— that with Julie molina and like she and reader develop feelings— oh yeah

A/N: This was kinda hard, not gonna lie! Thanks @calamitykaty​ for sharing your ‘experience’ with baby projects in high school lol. Love you! 

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Julie Molina

Song(s) used: Heaven cover by Boyce Avenue 

Warnings: Just a bunch of fluff! 

Words:  2,914

“Julie and y/n.” You perked up at the mention of your name, even more so at the mention of the name of your crush. 

Julie Molina. Los Feliz High’s rising star. She went from not singing a note for a year to opening for Panic! at the Disco at the Orpheum with her hologram band Julie and The Phantoms. You were aware of what she’d gone through with losing her mother and with it, her love for music. For years, you’ve admired her from afar, watching her blossom into this young rockstar that just belonged on the stage with those three cute boys by her side. You’d never even dared utter a word to her, even if your best friend, Amy told you to at least say hi. A star like Julie wouldn’t have the time to even talk to a ‘nobody’ like you, let alone go out on a date with one. 

So, when Mister Adams called out both your names for the baby project for your Child Development class, your insides heated up while your heart started beating faster. Especially when the Latina girl turned around to look at you and give you an acknowledging smile. The world seemed to stop all at once, and it made you wonder if you were even still alive at all. 

“You have the rest of the class to start getting to know your babies and partners and begin thinking of names together. You’re going to make a birth announcement for your child together and it will be the first assignment you’ll be graded on,” mister Adams’ voice droned on about the project, but your mind had already wandered back to Julie. 

She had her head propped up in her hand, her long, elegant fingers disappearing into the mop of curls that beautifully laid over her shoulders. You had always admired how healthy Julie’s locks looked. Her hair was so glossy and clearly taken care of. And her style. Her style was impeccable. Today, she was wearing your favorite outfit of hers. A baby blue, ditsy floral dress with a white T-shirt underneath it and a fuzzy bear coat thrown over it. Paired with her white doodled-on sneakers, it was the prettiest outfit you had ever seen. But your all-time-favorite thing of hers, looks-wise, was the little gap between her teeth. It made her look so innocent and perfectly imperfect. 

“Get to it!” mister Adams clapped his hands together, waking you up from your hazy daydream. Before you can properly register what’s happening, Julie had reached your desk already and taken a seat next to you with her gap-toothed smile plastered on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted. 

Your hands started to shake as you stumbled over your next words, “Hey. I--I’m y/n.” 

A giggle erupts from Julie’s mouth as she placed her hand on top of yours. For a second, you swore you could feel a spark of electricity going from her hand to yours. Julie didn’t acknowledge it, so you must’ve imagined it, you thought. 

“I know,” she said as mister Adams came over and handed them their baby in the black carrier. “Thank you, mister A.” The forty-something man smiled down at the two of you before making his way to the next duo. 

Julie turned to you, “So, how shall we name this little rascal?” she asked. 

Her golden brown eyes bored into you, expectantly, awaiting a good answer from you. So, your brain slowly started to get into first gear, going back-and-forth on names you’ve always liked. 

Olivia, Clementine, Alexis, Charlie, Lara, Mason, Alex -- uhm… Olivia could be cute. Or Rose! No, not Rose, that’s Julie’s mom’s name. Uhm… 

Your eyes wandered from Julie’s face to her backpack she had put in front of her on the desk. The silver dahlia pin reflected in the artificial light of the classroom, shimmering and tugging at a thought in your brain. “Dahlia,” you blurted out, not even thinking about it twice. 

Julie’s eyes widened slightly before darting over to the little pin on her backpack. A small smile tugged at her lips as her index finger carefully caressed the metal. At first, you thought you’d said something wrong and had the urge to apologize profusely until she looked up and said, “I like that. Dahlias were my mom’s favorite flower.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew the flower had some sort of significance to Julie as  you saw pins on her jackets and backpacks all the time, and even noticed some in the background of her Instagram pictures. But you didn’t know the significance had something to do with her mother. 

“We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. My eyes just fell on your backpack and--” Julie’s hand reached for yours again, shutting you up with the beautiful sound of her laugh. 

“Dahlia is perfect, y/n.” 

Chills ran down your spine at the tone of her words. So warm. So comforting. Like a fluffy blanket was being wrapped around you. It melted away any insecurity and nerves and any other scrutinizing thoughts of self-doubt. 

You tore your gaze away from Julie’s before you’d drown in them indefinitely and grabbed a piece of paper from your notebook and a pencil. “So, I was thinking to maybe have a little dahlia as a card for the announcement?” you suggested as your hand skidded across the paper, sketching the outlines of the flower. 

Julie’s eyes widened at how quickly you could put a nearly perfect flower onto a piece of paper. For a moment, she just let you sketch out your ideas, admiring the passion and determination behind your actions. 

“Something like this?” you slid the piece of paper in front of Julie, who picked it up to look at it up close. Her mouth dropped open as her eyes darted across, taking in every single detail you’d managed to get out in such a short amount of time. The decorative letters that spelled out the baby’s name and the details in the flower itself. 

“Y/N,” Julie breathed out, her eyes finally meeting  yours again. “This is gorgeous! You are insanely talented!” she placed the sketch back on the table in front of you. A blush crept to your cheeks as you stared at the grey lines on the white surface.

“I--it’s not perfect,” you shrugged, scratching at the wood of the pencil. “And I’m not half as talented as you are.” You mumbled the words in hopes she wouldn’t even hear them but she definitely did. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she opened her mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by the bell ringing. 

“Come over to my place after school?” she suggested as she grabbed her backpack and the mechanic doll in the carrier. “We can brainstorm some more over the baby announcement and arrange a schedule for who’s gonna take her home when and stuff?” You slowly nodded your head, your brain still going over the words that came out of her mouth. 

Julie Molina wanted to see you after school. Julie Molina. You. After school. 

“Okay, cool. See you tonight then. I’ll take Dahlia with me for the day?” 

“Uhm, yeah, sure. See you tonight, Molina.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as flirtily as it did. But it seemed to have some sort of an effect on the Latina girl in front of you as her cheeks tinted a scarlet red. 

Julie had messaged you on Instagram with the address and her number, which you immediately saved to your phone before heading down to the homey two-story house a few blocks away from your own. 

I’m here

You texted her as you stood on the driveway, your bike on the kickstand next to you. The nerves were surging through you as you looked around. Green plants and trees surrounded you as did all the pretty yellow and pink flowers. One of which you recognized: Black Eyed Susan. According to your grandma, they symbolised encouragement and motivation. Which was something your family needed, and Julie’s too after the loss of her mother. 

“Hey, y/n,” Julie greeted as she exited her house through the front door, shutting it behind her, “We’re gonna go to my mom’s studio ‘cause I’ve got band practice after.” She hooked her arm with yours while the other carried the baby doll’s carrier. 

She retreated her arm from yours and used it to pull one of the white doors open, revealing a spacious area filled with instruments, couches and three boys you recognized as the rest of Julie’s band. All three of them looked up from their spots on the couch and armchair with either a pen in their hand and a notebook on their lap or an instrument -- or part of the instrument in the blonde’s case -- in their hands. All looking like deer caught in headlights. 

“Why’s your band here?” you asked, your eyes darting from the musicians to your project partner. Julie opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Wait, I heard rumors about them being ghosts, that’s not true is it?” 

A squeaky sound came from all four of them as they looked at each other for help on a good excuse until Julie placed Dahlia on the coffee table near the boys and turned to you, placing her hands on your shoulders. She said, “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” 

“I promise?” 

Julie sighed, dropping her hands from your shoulders and instead putting them into the pocket of her fuzzy coat. “Then yes, they are ghosts.” Your eyes scanned Julie’s face for any sign of a joke, but you couldn’t detect anything. 

“Weirdly not the strangest thing I have ever heard,” you shrugged as you placed your backpack on a chair near you and dug your notebook out of it. “I hashed out some details for our baby announcement during French class.” 

Confused, Julie glanced at the boys and back at the girl in front of her. “You’re not gonna run away and never come back?” she asked you, which made you stop in your tracks, your fingers between the pages of the book as you were trying to get it open. 

“My grandma is into very spiritual things. So ghost chats are quite familiar to me,” you explained and resumed your movements. 

The three boys got up from their spots, notebooks and instruments left on the cushions, and made their way towards you. 

“I’m Luke,” the brunette with the greenish hazel eyes introduced himself, smiling at you. 

Before you could chime in, the boy next to Luke piped up, raising his finger. “Reggie! Hi!” You couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm before your eyes landed on the blondie last in line, assuming he’d introduce himself too. 

“Alex,” he said with an awkward giggle. 

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m y/n,” you said just as the robotic sound of a cry sounded through the room, indicating Dahlia needed something. “Excuse me.” You pushed past the boys, as they stepped aside so you didn’t have to go through them. 

“She’s my partner for this baby project thing,” Julie explained to the boys. They shot each other a helpless look, wondering if the others are as lost as themselves. “It’s where you have to take care of a mechanic baby doll for a week.” 

Julie walked over to you as you cradled the doll in your arms, trying to get it to stop crying, and the boys followed suit. They were intrigued by this whole baby project ordeal. 

“Have you fed her yet?” you asked Julie when the baby wouldn’t stop crying. 

“Yes, I did. The second I came home,” she replied as she softly tugged at the doll’s shirt she’d put on her. It was an orange long sleeved shirt with a big yellow smiley printed on it. You knew Julie had a sweater similar to this, which is why Julie had chosen to put this one on. 

“Diaper check?” 

“Was doing that when you arrived.” 

The boys watched this interaction like a tennis match, their heads bobbing back and forth. To Alex, it seemed surreal a teacher would put two girls together for a project like this. If this were a thing back in his high school days, he would’ve never been paired with another boy. 

“Why else do babies cry?” you asked whilst racking your brain on possible ideas to make her stop crying. 

Luke sprung into action then and grabbed his six string from the stand behind them, putting the strap around his shoulder. He strummed the instrument a couple of times into a beautiful, familiar melody. 

Julie seemed to recognize it too, because no sooner, her voice floated through the shed. 

“Oh thinkin' about all our younger years There was only you and me We were young and wild and free Now nothing can take you away from me We've been down that road before But that's over now You keep me comin' back for more”

Her eyes locked with yours as she sang, a soft smile plastered on her face while you stared back at her with an endeared expression resting on your features. You loved the sound of her voice and you loved the way it was able to calm you down in an instant. Which also seemed to be the case with the robotic baby in your arms whose cries had quieted down. 

Luke’s voice coming in didn’t stop Julie from looking at you either. 

“Baby you're all that I want When you're lyin' here in my arms I'm findin' it hard to believe We're in heaven And love is all that I need And I found it there in your heart Isn't too hard to see We're in heaven”

The crying had now completely stopped. A quiet calm resting over the entire studio space as you and Julie kept looking at each other. Of course the boys noticed this and couldn’t withhold the smile finding its way to their lips. 

“Is it me or do they look like a cute family?” Reggie whispered to his best friends. 

He wasn’t wrong. Though neither you and Julie would ever admit it, there was a definite spark between you, and it only grew as the week went on. 

You took turns taking Dahlia home and spent lunches and every other hour possible together with the mechanic doll that had become the vessel for your expression of your love for each other. It became such a routine that by Friday, the two of you dreaded turning Dahlia in. Neither of you wanted it to end. Neither of you knew what was going to happen if you didn’t have Dahlia to take care of together. 

Were you just going to go back to how it was with you admiring Julie from afar and her completely ignoring your existence? Or were you going to stay friends? 

Neither of you knew even though both of you had the same questions. 

“Just ask her out on Friday when you’ve turned Dahlia in, y/n,” Amy said as you sat in French together and she had noticed your sighs of desperation. You looked at her as if she’d just said something really controversial. “Y/N, there's chemistry between the two of you! Have you seen the way she looks at you? That is not how ‘just a project partner’ should look at you!” 

You let Amy’s words sink in your brain as you went on with the rest of your day after French class until the moment of goodbye came around. 

You and Julie handed Dahlia back to mister Adams, along with your entire report you had worked on until two am last night in Julie’s garage, the boys all but helping you out. 

The weight on your shoulders should’ve been lifted now that you’d reached the deadline and could actually hand something in. But it weighed down even harder. Mostly because you were anxious it was going to be the end of you hanging out with Julie. It didn’t have to happen, but you were scared it might. 

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. 

The old saying your grandma always muttered to herself haunted around in your brain as you and Julie made your way towards your desk in the back of the class. Neither of you said anything for a while until you both turned to each other and opened your mouths. 

“I wanna ask you--” / “Can I ask you--”

Your words mingled and lingered in the air as you both giggled at the simultaneousness of your thoughts. 

“You go first,” you said, offering Julie the floor. You couldn’t help but feel anxious yet curious about what she was going to say. 

“Can I ask you if maybe we could like, I don’t know… Study together later tonight?” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise as did the corners of your mouth while a bright pink flushed your cheeks. “I kinda wanted to ask the same thing,” you admitted, which made Julie light up entirely. “So, yes, definitely.” 

You had definitely found yourself on the other side of fear. On the contrary. You had found yourself on cloud nine with flutters in your stomach and clammy hands from the nerves as the date grew closer and closer. 

Crazy how a stupid mechanical doll can bring two unlikely people together.     

         *

*

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JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92​ @marinettepotterandplagg​@thequirkybookaholic​ @bookdealer5​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @hemmingsness​ @iainttakingshitfromnobody​ @ifilwtmfc​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​ @rudysbay​ @thedarkqueenofavalon​​ @caitsymichelle13​​ @calamitykaty​ @wiselight​ @kcd15​​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic​ @stars-soph​ @kinda-really-lost​ @notasofti​ @alexpjoyner​ @n0wornever​ @katieskidmore1 @tefilovesreading​

If your name is crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you, sorry! 

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #julie molina #madison reyes #julie molina x reader #julie molina x female!reader #julie molina fic #julie molina imagine

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Valentine’s Collection} #14

Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! We’ve reached the end of another collection, and I hope it’s been enjoyed! ♥ It was definitely nice to write, to do something to commemorate a holiday that really suits me as a romance author, haha.

This last piece is something special, and a little different from the rest of the collection--it’s a true one-shot, with an involved, AU plot that I’m pretty proud of. It may evolve into a chaptered story at a later date, depending on Monica’s reception of it; it definitely has the potential to be.

As always, thank you for starring in another collection for me, love! 💕 Enjoy. 💋

“If you’re tempted to say no, then think of the tax benefits.”

“Oh, he did not say that,” Dot Dreadful tossed her head back, cackling loudly. “Girl please tell me he did not try to hit you with the tax benefits line!”

Felina Frenzy, known more intimately as Monica, joined in the laughter even as she rushed to affirm, “He did! He fucking did, like what kind of idiot even tries that?!”

“Only a straight white male.” Dot was quick to quip, hazel eyes locking with emerald as she gave Monica a look over her glass. “How many times have I told you to take a dip with some melanin?”

“It’s not my fault the guy was white,” Monica raised her hand, shifting on her high-backed bar stool. She hooked her stiletto around the bottom rung of the chair, crossing one tantalizing leg over the other without a second thought to the gazes that turned just to watch her move.

“How many times?” Dot pressed, tapping one long nail on the reflective bar’s surface.

“A ton, but you’ve also told me to switch to women indefinitely.”

Dot sat her glass on the bar with both eyebrows near her hairline. “Has it steered me wrong?”

“Are you or are you not alone just like I am on Valentine’s Day?” Monica countered. Logic would have pinned Dot to the ground but emotion’s like nailing jello to a fence post--can’t be done, and Dot cupped Monica’s chin, pulling her in for a loud, affectionate smack right on the lips.

“Oh, but I’m not alone, my love, I have the light of my entire life with me.”

Monica fought off the urge to blush at such a public display of affection, whether or not she returned it. “Sweet-talking me doesn’t change the fact that we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day single.”

“That’s why it’s a Gal-entine’s Day,” Dot released Monica’s chin, taking another sip of her Bloody Mary. “Who needs men, or women for that matter? Who needs anyone.”

“Now whose being the sad panda?” Monica teased, turning back to her sea-sapphire blue cocktail. It was some confection made in honor of the holiday and Monica couldn’t remember what the hell it was called, but it was strong and it tasted good, so she was content with the buzz warming her middle.

“On the contrary, my beautiful gal pal, I am embracing my singlehood with a pack of AA’s and a brand new purple best bed buddy.” Dot rocked side to side on her bar stool. “And I bought you a matching blue one.”

“The fact that our friendship has evolved to us sharing vibrators--”

“Ooo, that was not at all my intention but we should totally share!”

“Having a gay best friend is not at all like how they make it look on TV.”

“Oh yeah, if you’re of the same sex we’ll totally hit on you until we wear you down with our wicked gay ways,” Dot wiggled her fingers, pursing her lips in an ‘o’. “That’s actually #7 on our gay agenda.”

“What’s #6?”

“Find an attractive best friend of the same sex, naturally.”

Monica laughed, clinking her glass with Dot’s. “Naturally.”

Around the two best friends, Zealot was abuzz with activity of the rich, affluent, and famous of New Senzannini out to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. The expensive, high-class lounge was currently the hottest spot in the entire city, which was a feat considering the millions of people who called this capital of the world home. Monica and Dot had been living in New Senzannini for a couple years, now, each making their way in similar career paths, side by side. Dot turned to written word, and Monica double-dipped, releasing a series of wildly popular Young Adult novels that transcended simple novels into graphic novels, illustrated by her own hand. Getting your hooks into the upper crust of New Senzannini wasn’t easy to do, but the girls had done it. The problem was, it seemed dating here was the same as it was anywhere else in the world--which explained why Monica and Dot were single and spending Valentine’s Day as a Gal-entine’s Day instead, drinking together and telling horror stories of suitors past. It was easy for Monica to laugh at her most recent ex, who honestly thought proposing to her on the second date (after a very unsuccessful first date, on top of that) with a line about tax benefits was the right way to win her heart. Monica may be a logical girl with a good head on her shoulders but she had a heart that was still soft--even if she hid that from everyone. She’d thought she wanted a man who could meet her logic, but all that seemed to produce were walking, talking business degrees who thought it was romantic to treat marriage like a contract to extract extra tax benefits from the government. Monica may not watch romantic comedies but she did read shoujo manga--she deserved a little romance, at the very least!

“Excuse me?”

Monica turned, locking eyes with a green-eyed stranger dressed to the nines in a well-tailored, three piece suit. He flashed her an attractive smile, his teeth perfectly straight and white, and his $500 haircut was a compliment to the room lights...but Monica just wanted to yawn.

“Yes?” Monica put on a small, tight-lipped smile but the potential suitor didn’t seem to notice.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.” The business executive extended his hand to the beautiful woman he was hoping to win over. “My name’s Reagan.”

Monica shook his hand, but she also shook her head. “I appreciate it, Reagan, but I already have a drink--”

It may not have been apparent to anyone else that Monica cut her sentence short, but she had. All at once, she became acutely aware that she was being watched. Her spine slowly stiffened the more her awareness rose, and she felt goosebumps raise on her flesh without really knowing or understanding why. Reagan was saying something to her but she wasn’t hearing a word he was saying; the lounge itself seemed to drop away, other sounds muting out, from the jazz singer in the far corner to the murmur of a hundred different conversations. As the world quietened as if someone had turned the volume down like a dial in her head, Monica became aware of an exhale, a rush of smoky air over her shoulder and it sounded so close she was surprised she didn’t feel the smoke caress over her skin. She turned, slowly, and was even more surprised that the exhale she’d heard was across the lounge, a ways from her seat at the bar. It came from the VIP section, and she watched the smoke curl like beckoning fingers as it drifted from lips she couldn’t see. Whoever was smoking that wicked, exotic looking pipe was leaned back against the lush couch and even as she squinted, she couldn’t make out anything but a tall, well-built frame. She could see his legs, the long limbs crossed elegantly, one over the other, and the silk she could see looked expensive, even by Zealot standards. The hanging lamp that was illuminating his legs was doing an excellent job hitting the glass table beneath it, and Monica could see a large, long-fingered hand move that smoking pipe from his mouth to rest over the back of the couch; the way he moved reminded her of smoke itself. He was elegant, whoever this was, and before Monica could look away, he opened his eyes and nailed her to her stool.

They were a shimmering, luminescent sapphire blue. They glowed, glittered like precious stones worth more than the entire outfit she’d painstakingly put together for this evening--

❝Don’t sell yourself short, beautiful girl. I think you look ravishing.❞

The voice that shimmered in her head reminded her of sunlight filtering through the ocean; it glimmered, caressed like fingers so she shuddered from the echo in her mind. That voice belonged to someone who wasn’t human, someone who carried himself above everyone else, and Monica had a feeling she recognized it simply by the way her entire body tightened at the intimate way he spoke to her. He all but purred at her, and by contrast, Reagan speaking to her sounded like a donkey braying.

❝Amusing, pretty little girl. Tell him to get lost.❞

That purr took on a decided sharp edge with the second part of his sentence and it did not come out like a request. It came out a command. And Monica wasn’t one for just...doing what she was told. People didn’t boss her around, they didn’t tell her what to do; she was independent and she had a mind of her own...except right now, her mind didn’t feel like her own. There was another presence within it, making himself quite at home amongst her thoughts so that she could feel his masculine smirk at her immediate want to defy him.

❝Your defiance is...adorable. I’m not unreasonable. Allow me to give you some incentive to do as I say.❞

Monica wasn’t prepared for him to lean into the light, but the second he did, she knew right away she’d been right--

Zaos Lakhani was the one staring at her, speaking to her telepathically, in a way no human could ever hope to do.

The Zaos Lakhani, the most famous Sorcerer in New Senzannini.

New Senzannini was known as the capital of the world for many reasons, but one of it’s shining examples of affluence was it being a gathering hub for all beings found in the known world. Humans, mutants, meta-humans, superheroes, supernatural creatures--it was a veritable melting pot here and as a result, was it any wonder certain races of creatures found themselves at the top of the food chain? The Elites, they were called, and while the government made no real acknowledgement of them...everyone knew they existed and they knew who they were. Zaos Lakhani was an Elf, and that put him in the shining light of the Elite as Elves were considered an Elite race. Monica may be biased but she felt Elves deserved to be there; she had something of a fixation on them. Dot called it a fetish, but Monica wasn’t going to do that even if it was 100% true--if only because it made her blush anytime an Elf so much as walked past her. Now one of the world’s most famous Elves was openly staring at her?!

❝Now that we have an...understanding, do as I say. Get rid of your little admirer. I detest competition.❞

Monica’s throat ran dry; the way Zaos spoke the word understanding made her think he was aware of her thoughts about his race and the blush that swept up her neck was the color of roses. She was finally able to look away from him, but not before she caught sight of his smirk revealing one elongated fang splitting his perfect, pouty mouth. Zaos was gorgeous and she was in way, way over her head.

“E-Excuse me, R-Reagan, but I really need you to walk away, now.” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying; she couldn’t focus, what with Zaos’s eyes still so clearly on her.

“I’m sorry?” Reagan was surprised by Monica sudden change in demeanor, but he’d been so busy talking about himself he hadn’t noticed she’d missed every word he said. “Was it something I said?”

“Who the hell could tell,” Dot muttered. “You haven’t shut the hell up since you came over here. She’s not into you. Hit the bricks, Wall Street.”

Monica knew the only reason Dot spoke up was in her defense; she probably took Monica’s stammering to mean she was uncomfortable with Reagan and Dot had a tendency to get overprotective real quick. Case in point, both women were staring at Reagan in silent challenge until he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and excused himself. Dot rolled her eyes and signaled for another drink.

“And men say we talk to much,” Dot leaned back in her seat, doing a double take when Monica didn’t move to comment. “You okay, love? Did he actually say something that upset you?”

“N-No, no,” Monica shook her head rapidly. She cleared her throat and then leaned in, watching Dot mirror her movement. “...Z-Zaos Lakhani is here.”

Dot’s face showed she recognized the name, but then one would have to be living under a rock to not. Without having to be told, Dot’s gaze shifted to the VIP section and she pursed her lips; she didn’t share Monica’s fetish for Elves and she found Zaos to be a little conceited. That, and his Family was from the same island she was from, and she knew all about the Lakhani reputation. It was not a good one; there were nine men in the Lakhani line and not a single one of them was good news. From the tyrannical Patriarch with more blood on his hands than Vlad the Impaler, to the homicidal youngest set of twins who were rumored to be serial killers, getting mixed up with that family was asking for trouble. Zaos was one of the nine heads of the Tribe and he’d made his name in magic, dark sorcery that meant people often spoke his name in whispers, and he’d risen to the top of the magic game on a pile of cash from shady deals in other’s misfortune...and death.

You just didn’t mess with a Lakhani, and there’s nine big bad reasons why.

“I see him.” Dot turned to take her fresh drink from the bartender. “What’s that got to do with kicking Wall Street to the curb?”

Monica chewed on her lower lip, doing her best to ignore that Zaos was still staring at her. He’d called her a, “Good girl,” for getting rid of Reagan and Monica was grappling with why that made her feel so good. The longer she didn’t answer Dot, sneaking glances at Zaos, the more suspicious Dot became.

“Baby...I know you’ve got your thing for Elves, but maybe you should...find a different one.” Dot cautioned.

❝As if that would stop me.❞

Monica clenched her thighs together at that masculine purr; Zaos speaking to her so intimately was as though he was speaking against the shell of her ear, with her seated upon his lap, and it took Monica a moment to realize he was projecting that into her mind. Without having to look back at him, she could see his handsome smirk, the ambient room lighting flirting with his cheekbones until she would have sworn he couldn’t be real. With the mental picture he was building she could see him clearly; he was dressed like royalty from a far off land, silk draped over a physique carved from porcelain marble. He had no a single scar on his entire body, and his outfit left only some to the imagination; his chest was bare, the silk draping down his chiseled abdomen in a V-shape that revealed deep grooves in his hips, his pants slung invitingly low. The silk over his arms ended at his wrist, drawing attention to long, painted claws still cradling a pipe that smelled of a rain forest. Monica could smell it, smell him; he smelled good enough to make her mouth water, or maybe that was the way he looked? He looked an entire temptation, his long, pale blond hair framing his head like a halo...but it was a halo that would have to be propped up by horns. There was nothing innocent about Zaos Lakhani and as she continued to helplessly notice every single thing about him, she was unaware he was doing the exact same thing to her.

Zaos had been staring at her since the moment she arrived; he had simply hidden that from her. He’d been content to watch her, study her like a predator from the shadows as she drank and shared laughs with her friend. Zaos had not gotten to his lofty position as a godlike Sorcerer by rushing his hand, but then he should have known others would take notice of this Felina Frenzy...Monica as she was known to close friends and family. Zaos immediately counted himself amongst them; he was entitled and he was demanding, and he saw something he wanted. Needed, until the rest of Zealot dropped away and it wasn’t like anyone or anything could hold his attention for long to begin with. Zaos was a Prince, had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and now that he was an adult, a formidable Sorcerer with access to realms others couldn’t even dream of, he could get anything he wanted. He’d seen it all, or so he’d thought, until Monica sauntered into the lounge looking like all the world’s treasure encased in red silk and stiletto heels. Zaos had actually commanded the entire VIP section to silence when she’d entered, waving his hand with an absent spell to silence his entourage because he wanted not a single distraction. The way she moved stirred heat in his belly, made his mouth water as she lifted herself onto her bar stool and her thighs parted just so she could cross her legs--as an Elf, his senses were nothing to scoff at and the scent of her was easy to pinpoint amongst the riff raff around them. Like a piece of forbidden fruit dangling out of his reach, he longed to sink his sharp teeth into her flesh.

Would she cry? Scream? Gods, he hoped so.

It had been unexpected, due to his own distraction, that someone else moved on her before he had but that was remedied easily enough. Zaos was not one to lose, ever, and if Monica hadn’t succeeded in getting that cretin to walk away, Zaos would have easily manipulated his mind and caused him to enter the bathroom, open one of the windows, and leap out to his death several stories below. Zaos had no regard for other life and he was certainly not going to apologize for being so...possessive over what he was pursuing. Who wouldn’t be possessive of such a delicious little treasure? Zaos’s clawed fingers actually twitched with the want to feel her soft skin, to trail his hand up her bare legs to delve between her thighs--he imagined her panties were silk like her dress, but she had to be in a tempting little thong. He couldn’t spot any pantylines on that round little bottom and he’d been staring at it, hard, for what seemed like hours. Her waist tucked in, and he knew just by looking at her that it would compliment his large hands; her waist tempted his eyes further up to her full breasts and his mouth watered, again, so eager was he to delve his tongue between them. To taste, sample, savor, and maybe he would pierce her nipples with his fangs, listen to her cry as he fitted her with two crystal barbells so that he could monitor where she was at all times. It wouldn’t do to have her out of his sight, not when she was so breath-takingly gorgeous. The world didn’t deserve her but he did. He deserved to be the one to fasten his lips, his teeth to her throat and mark her, drain her so that her sweet blood flowed like nectar down his throat and he could carry her in his heart, always. He imagined she’d struggle, push weakly at his chest but he would take her resistance and shatter her into a million pieces...only to put her back together again just to show her he was the only one who could.

Well...the only one of nine, perhaps.

Zaos’s free hand extended and with practiced, unconscious ease, his wine glass lifted from the table and floated into his waiting fingers. He took a casual sip, but even the expensive wine tasted sour when what he wanted was Monica. Now that he’d made up his mind, or rather she’d made up his mind for him by being so tempting, he knew he’d never be satisfied without her. He replaced his wine glass upon the table with a wave of his hand, ignoring the stares of awe he received from the others in the section; he knew he was impressive and he didn’t need the masses to tell him so. Instead, he was focused on his phone, retrieving it from it’s resting place in his lap. There was no shyness as he raised it, snapping a picture of Monica seated at the bar.

« Our new Pet. Thoughts? »

The group message between himself and his Tribe was scarcely used and thus, when it was, everyone paid attention to it. His father, Atamu, was the first to respond to the message and the attached picture.

« Do not come home without her. »

Zaos smirked; he was used to the abrupt, demanding way his father spoke and he wondered how Monica’s stubborn, fiery temper would handle standing up to the intimidating Patriarch.

« Gorgeous...What does she smell like? »

The Omega, Tod, was arguably the most...creepy of the Lakhani Tribe, and it was no surprise he asked this question. Zaos typed out a response with ease.

« Like heaven, Tod. »

« Send me her panties. Tonight. »

Zaos’s smirk only mildly concealed his laugh.

« But of course. »

It would be no consequence to port them to Tod and the poor boy deserved it; he needed a good release, and Zaos knew that was exactly what he would be doing--with those panties pressed against his nose, his other fist wrapped around his thick, weeping cock.

The next three to respond to the message were also no surprise; the Alpha Triplets, known to others as the Von Triplets, responded in their birth order. Cavon, then Savon, then Luvon, one right after the other in rapid fire succession.

« I’m gonna fuck her until she bleeds. Bring her home NOW. »

« Exceptional as always, Zaos. She is by far the prettiest Pet anyone has ever had. And I cannot wait to ruin her~ »

« The only good Pet is a well-bred one. I will make sure she is, until she is so round and swollen with child she won’t be able to think of leaving. »

Zaos looked impressed, which was saying something considering the source--for Luvon to be so vocal must mean Monica was truly calling to him, as she was doing to the entirety of his twisted, perverted Family.

« Is she as soft as she looks? As...breakable? »

That one was Markus, and Zaos could almost hear the controlled, measured tone. Out of the entire Family, Monica would likely fall the easiest for Markus because he was a master manipulator. He would seem her knight in shining armor, her safe place amongst monsters, while all the while he took from her greedily because he had both the most and least self-control of any of the Lakhani. He was needy, lonely, and Zaos could hear the desperation in his tone without needing to speak to the man. Monica was a tangible need in his life immediately, simply by a picture alone.

« You’ll have to tell me yourself once she’s home, Markus. »

« Send me a few more pictures, please. »

Zaos would indulge that for Markus, for the rest of the Tribe, and himself once he had Monica here beside him.

« Is she going to be our new Mommy? »

That was Jax, the youngest Lakhani but there was no mistaking he was one of the most dangerous because he had absolutely zero control over himself. He was maniacal, unhinged, a broken boy in desperate need of someone to cling to and while the question of wanting a new Mommy might sound sweet...Zaos knew his little brother better. The boy was going to pervert his relationship with Monica the second he sunk his teeth into her; she would be gaining two sons in the youngest twins, but it would be the most taboo Mother/son relationship in history.

« ...Mother. »

The last response was Jax’s twin Lucca, but like Luvon, the fact that the boy spoke at all was a momentous occasion. The text message read as if he was staring Monica in the eye, his hands reaching for her face before he pulled her in for a kiss that would steal her breath and her rejection all in one. Lucca was the void beside Jax’s tornado of a personality but he was just as insane as his twin. The two boys were young, freshly into their twenties, but they would behave like sick, depraved little boys for Monica. Their new Mommy.

« Lovely you all approve. I’ll bring her home to the Island in the morning, once I’ve got her life all packed up here. »

Zaos knew what he was bringing Monica home to, and he knew she had no idea what was coming her way--but he didn’t feel remorse for that. Why should he? The life of a Pet was a privileged one.

The secret life of Elite Society came with plenty of perks, but the most depraved was the buying and selling, the acquiring of Pets. It was an entire sub-culture of the Elite, and it was exactly what it sounded like. Anyone who was not an Elite could be considered a Pet, and it doesn’t matter the species. In other lifetimes, perhaps in other realities, one might compare it to the rich and famous wanting to own a tiger, to show off their wealth with such an exotic pet. Here in New Senzannini, the Elite have taken it a step further and begun owning people as Pets.

While it could be seen as a status symbol, owning a Pet, it also ran much deeper than that. For supernaturals, the acquisition of a Pet could mean a lifemate, a bond so deep it transcends lifetimes. Some Elites, supernatural or otherwise, take numerous Pets, either by trafficking or through more “legal” channels of purchasing them legitimately from Pet websites. To any who were not Elite, the life of a Pet may seem glamorous. Yes, one essentially gives up their freedom and becomes property of another, but becoming the Pet of a caring Elite means never having to work again. It means living in the lap of luxury, doted upon and spoiled much like one would expect from a Sugar Daddy/Mommy. Pet websites don’t list kidnapped victims but show willingly applicants wanting to become Pets, which says something for the lifestyle. Some aspects of it are legal, others...not so much. Usually there are contracts involved if an Elite wants a legal Pet, but kidnapped Pets are not uncommon. Zaos was hoping to meet Monica...somewhere in the middle. He was a persuasive man; he had every confidence he could get her to sign her life away to him, to put on a Pet ring and give herself over to the Tribe.

Unfortunately for her, he would not be taking no for an answer.

None of the Lakhani’s had ever taken Pets before. There was simply no interest, no desire, no one good enough to incite that primal need to possess, to claim, but Monica had changed all that and she had no idea. It amused Zaos, to know that her life was about to become their life, and the burning desire to keep her was a tangible thing, sitting heavily upon his chest. This was what they had all been waiting for. She was who they had all been waiting for. It was time to make his move.

“--and they’re just...they’re no good,” Dot was in the middle of trying to explain to Monica just what was wrong with the Lakhani but she didn’t feel she was making much headway.

Monica was listening, of course she was, but she couldn’t...help but find that aspect of danger a little...exciting. She licked her lips and sat up a little straighter. “They’re from your island, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like they just live there, love, they own that island. Rule it.”

“So most of them are still there?”

Dot nodded. “I think Zaos and Markus are the only ones who aren’t there very often.”

“Markus?” Monica tried to keep the interest out of her voice, but the more she learned about this Tribe...the more she wanted to learn.

“He’s a Skinwalker, not an Elf. Their whole Family are Shapeshifters. Most of them are Werewolves, but the Chieftain is a Werelion.” Dot realized a little late she wasn’t necessarily warning Monica off...more like feeding the flames. “Babe, you are hearing me, right? They’re seriously dangerous.”

“I know! I know, I hear you, I do.” Monica gave Dot a reassuring smile. “I really appreciate you looking out for me but really, it’s not like anything is going to happen! I’m definitely not just going to walk up to Zaos and--”

“Miss?”

Dot and Monica turned, spying one of the Bouncers from the VIP section standing in front of them. His focus was on Monica.

“Y-Yes?”

“Mr. Lakhani would like you to join him in the VIP Section.”

“Oh lord, here we go,” Dot muttered.

Monica couldn’t help it; she turned surprised eyes on Zaos, who only made it worse by lifting his hand, beckoning to her with two clawed fingers in a “Come here,” gesture that should be illegal, it was so sexy.

“I-I...I.” Monica trailed off, unsure what to say. She floundered for a moment, looking over at Dot, who had her eyebrows raised and was shaking her head. “P-Please tell him t-thank you, but i’m here with my friend--”

“Mr. Lakhani offered to pick up her tab if she’d be willing to relinquish you for the evening.”

“He thinks he can buy my date with free Bloody Mary’s?” Dot asked. The Bouncer nodded, once.

“Yes.”

Dot shifted her gaze from the Bouncer, to Zaos, then to Monica...and she had to admit, she could see the desire in Monica’s eyes. The Lakhani weren’t exactly...the sort of people you’d want your best friend hanging out with, but Dot also wasn’t going to ruin Monica’s Valentine’s Day. This was akin to a celebrity asking her over for drinks and Dot knew she wanted to go. Besides, what was the worst thing that could possibly happen? It’s a public place.

“...Aight, fine.” Dot gestured with a wave of her hand.

“A-Are you sure, Dottie?” Monica turned to the Bouncer. “Maybe she could come sit in the section with me?��

“Mr. Lakhani has already cleared the section. It will just be you two.”

That started Monica’s heart like a drum, and she barely had time to reason as to why he’d do that before Dot was giving her cheek a kiss--and speaking lowly against her ear.

“Text me the ❥ emoji if you need me to come get you,” Dot picked an emoji that wouldn’t raise alarms if Zaos happened to notice her sending it. “Be careful, sweetheart. These guys are the big leagues.”

“I-I will,” Monica returned Dot’s affection with a hug, before Dot took her fresh Bloody Mary and slipped off the bar to wander toward the couches by the pianist, still nearby if Monica needed her.

The Bouncer offered Monica his hand to help her down from her chair, but her knees nearly buckled when Zaos’s voice brushed against her mind again.

❝It amazes me how much I detest other people touching you.❞

She didn’t know what to say, and she wasn’t surprised when the Bouncer released her almost immediately after helping her down. She didn’t have to ask to know that was all Zaos’s doing, and it gave her a pause at just how powerful he really must be. Dot had been serious with her warnings and Monica knew enough about Zaos to know he was infamous and to some, feared, but there was a part of her that just couldn’t ignore the attraction, the want to bask in the attention he was giving her. Was this a bad idea? Probably, it was more than likely a terrible idea, but Monica had never said she had a ton of self-control. He was an Elf, and she’d never even had the opportunity to talk to an Elf before, much less sit down and share Valentine’s Day drinks with one.

True to what the Bouncer said, the VIP section was empty when Monica arrived. Zaos stood when she entered, an Old World gesture that was extremely flattering, but also showed Monica this Elf was over seven feet tall. Zaos was stockier than most Elves tended to be; with well-defined muscle mass that was easy to see now that she was so close to him. He offered his hand as she came to stand in front of him and as she placed her hand in his, he bent his spine to kiss the back of her hand.

“At last, Monica, we meet formally. You are even more beautiful up close.”

“T-Thank you, Mr. Lakhani.”

“Zaos, darling, please.” Zaos stressed, and he kept hold of her petite hand, urging her to sit upon the couch. He lowered himself beside her, extremely close, so that their thighs touched and she was nearly beneath the hollow of his broad shoulder. Only one they were seated did he release her hand, moving his arm around the back of her seat, his hand falling to her bare shoulder and she had to fight off a shudder at the touch of his sharp claws against her skin. “I’m delighted you accepted my invitation.”

Zaos had a...peculiar way of speaking; what he was saying sounded polite, charming, but Monica could hear that distinctive purr beneath his baritone, and it was a purr she knew could crack like a whip if he wanted to. He was an Elf, so his voice would be naturally, beautifully smooth, but on top of that he was a Sorcerer and their voice is half their power; Monica realized perhaps a little too late that he could probably get her to do anything with that black magic voice alone. His words seemed to be sentient, trailing over her skin like his fingers upon her shoulder and now that she was so close, his pipe was heady, a rich scent of incense that was a pleasing tickle beneath her nose. When he moved to take an inhale on the hand-carved long pipe, a jingling caught her attention and she was finally able to see his ears. They were long, splitting his tawny blond hair and they were pierced all the way up; the bells he wore jingled merrily when he moved and when he noticed her staring, he wiggled his ears. The bells rang and Monica had to fight off the urge to squeal excitedly.

Zaos Lakhani certainly had a presence to him and she was falling beneath it very quickly.

Zaos was not immune to her presence, however. There was nothing, nothing that could have prepared him for how much sweeter she smelled so close. He swallowed thickly, exhaling a plume of smoke from his nostrils in a desperate attempt to clear his head but every time he inhaled, he took her a little deeper into his body and he could feel her twisting around his lungs like rose vines. He had absolutely made the right decision in picking her out of the crowd and no matter what the outcome of this conversation, she would not be without him, without the Lakhani’s, again in her life. It mattered very little to Zaos how she might feel about the arrangement, about the offer to be a Pet--it didn’t matter what they called it, what label she was given, the bottommost line would be that she would be theirs, she would be his, and that was all that mattered. In the scant time Monica had been in his life, she’d taken it over--so it was only fair that he do the same for her with a Pet ring, right? Of course he was right. Zaos was always right. If Monica wasn’t happy with the arrangement initially...she’d come around. She wouldn’t have a choice, because he was not going to give her up and if she tried to flee, the other Lakhani would come. They’d had a taste and like sharks with blood in the water they would be relentless in their pursuit. Zaos traced intricate, ancient patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with the tips of his claws as he smirked to himself; his Tribe was not known for many nice things but what he found nice was to have their support. Yes, it meant he would have to fight his possessive nature to share her with the rest of them but she would find it so much harder to escape all nine of them. It put the Sorcerer at ease, and he crossed one long leg over the other, fully aware as his body brushed against Monica’s.

“Tell me, Monica,” he drawled, his unique accent adding to his exotic appearance. “Why are you alone on Valentine’s Day?”

Monica could have no way of knowing she was walking in a minefield; Zaos was asking because he needed to know if there was competition to take out. He could pluck the information from her mind, and he would, just to make sure she wasn’t downplaying some idiot’s interest in her (how could a woman so beautiful not have a hundred suitors?) but if he were honest with himself he was desperate to hear her voice. She had a voice that made one long for the bedroom, for candles and silk sheets and hours to spend with her wrapped around him, milking him while she cried, screamed for him and him alone. Zaos’s touch became a bit more insistent, moving from her shoulder up into her hair, crushing the soft strands between his strong digits.

“W-Well I,” Monica tried to think around Zaos playing with her hair, touching her, but it was near impossible. “I-I just d-don’t have a b-boyfriend this year?”

Zaos’s smirk was downright savage, a thing of masculine beauty and Monica found herself helplessly staring at those rows of sharp teeth, right down to his elongated fangs.

“What a loss for the rest of the world,” he mused, turning those brilliant eyes down to her. “But not for me, hm?”

Monica didn’t know how to answer that, and she had to look away, fidgeting until she crossed her own legs--the pressure on her clit felt nice. She’d just been so...hot, since Zaos started talking to her.

“What if I could make you a promise that you would never have to spend another Valentine’s Day alone, ever again?”

There it was. That black magic that slithered over her skin like a mamba, and Monica’s gaze snapped back up to Zaos without her consciously aware of the movement. He towered over her but still he pressed closer, leaning down into her space so that their noses nearly touched.

“Everyone shames Eve for taking the apple, for biting into the forbidden fruit, but I have always applauded her initiative,” Zaos’s sharp teeth clacked audibly as he took a deep drag off his pipe, his eyes nailing Monica to her seat. When he spoke, the wisps of his rain-scented smoke wafted between them, caressing along her cheek and throwing a haze of magic like an unbreakable spell. “Why shouldn’t she have what she wants? And on that same hand, my dear, sweet girl, why shouldn’t you?”

“H-How...” Monica cleared her throat, desperate to look away from the ocean in his eyes. “How do you know...what I want?”

“Because it is the same thing I want, my darling.” Zaos brought his hand up, his fingers brushing against her temple as he pushed her hair from obscuring her face from him--he would have nothing between them. “Are you going to tell me you don’t want me?”

“I-I--”

“If you force me to play this game of Cat and mouse, I’ll slip my fingers between your thighs and feel that slick heat for myself,” Zaos’s whisper was sin against Monica’s mouth--when had he gotten so close?! His promise tinted her cheeks a beautiful rouge and he made a deep noise of approval, turning his head to nuzzle her heated flesh. “I bet you taste of honey and strawberries, don’t you, little girl?”

“Z-Zaos, w-wait,” Monica shakily reached up to push at Zaos’s chest but that was a mistake. His open silk suit was a trap in and of itself and as soon as she felt the heavy muscles beneath his unblemished skin, she forgot her objections. Zaos smirked against her cheek, his lips moving to her ear.

“You know who I am, Monica. What I can do,” Zaos tempted, his hand curving around her waist to ease her closer still, hating even the scant few inches of space between them. “I could give you anything in the entire world with the snap of my fingers.”

Monica exhaled shakily, all too aware of Zaos’s deep inhale in response, as if he was taking her into his lungs. Her trembling fingers slipped up to his throat for some sort of anchor and he made a deep noise of approval at the slide of silk skin against his own.

“W...What would you want in return?”

“Clever girl, knowing nothing in the world is free.” Zaos drew back from her ear--but not before leaving a teasing lick against the shell, earning him a startled whine that hardened his cock unbearably in an instant. He exhaled in a quiet groan, before giving up on fighting his desire and in a moment’s time Monica was in his lap, straddling him. Zaos was so much larger than she, it forced her thighs so far apart she was forced to settle right over his thick, straining cock and her startled eyes flew to his but he was already smirking. He knew he was...gifted, and he knew she was so petite it would be a delicious burn when he fitted himself between her thighs and claimed her for the first time. That tight little cunt would be sore for days afterward.

Now that she was in his lap, Zaos knew he held all the power, and he knew she would be too distracted to realize he was just as much under her spell as she was under his. Obsession is funny, that way.

“Are you aware of the Elite concept of Pets, Monica?”

She bit her lip, nodding, but it was a gesture Zaos nearly missed--he was too busy focusing on those little teeth fitted against her plump lower lip. Everything about Monica was petite, a small gift from the heavens and Zaos kept one hand around the small of her back, ensuring she didn’t shy away from him. He couldn’t tolerate space between them, right now--perhaps never again.

“Then you know what I want from you.”

Monica met Zaos’s gaze, her heart stopping and then starting so loudly she could barely hear anything else. The entire lounge seemed to cease to exist and if she had the presence of mind to ask, Zaos would have reassured her that he was the only one who could see her; it was effortless to obscure them from prying eyes, and Zaos had been desperate to keep her attention, her beauty, all to himself all evening.

“Y-You want...?”

“I want you to be my Pet.” Zaos was not exactly lying; he did want Monica to be his Pet. He simply wasn’t telling the entire truth; that if she agreed to be his, she was agreeing to his entire Tribe. That was a conversation for a later date, when she’d already signed her life to him and could not possibly hope to escape him. Right now, he conjured up his Pet ring (all Elites had them, whether they decided to use them or not) and as he held the shimmering, expensive piece of jewelry toward Monica like the apple that tempted Eve, he gave her a charming, serpent’s smile. “I want you, Monica. If you give yourself to me, the rest of the world can be yours.”

For the first time in her life, Monica understood that old biblical tale and she understood why Eve gave in. Everything about Zaos was otherwordly, from his appearance to the casual way he manipulated time and space with his magic; she knew he hadn’t had the ring on him, that he’d conjured it up from whereever he’d been keeping it. It shimmered even in the ambient lighting; it appeared similar to a normal wedding ring but she knew, she’d read they were different. They bind a Pet to their Elite, linked by magic or maybe technology or maybe it was some combination of both--that she didn’t know, but she knew if she put that ring on, she would never be able to remove it on her own. Elites take their Pet ownership seriously...and she had no doubt that Zaos would be the type to take it extremely seriously. She wouldn’t be able to leave him...but would she want to? If Zaos was trying to confuse her, to use his sexuality and his obvious advantage over her for so many reasons, it was working. For a fleeting moment, Monica thought to her phone upon the couch cushions but even as she turned toward it, Zaos caught her chin with his fingers, the ring in the palm of his large hand.

“I won’t have you paying attention to anyone else right now, little one.” There was little room for argument, even as Zaos ran his sharp claw over her lower lip, his eyes devouring her as he stared down at her. He was so much taller, she couldn’t even see over his shoulders. “Say yes to me. You know it feels right. It feels...good, doesn’t it?”

There was pressure exerted as Zaos gripped her ass through her dress, forcing her to grind against his covered erection and the pressure on her barely covered clit had her parting her lips in a gasping pant. In the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t fair, this was cheating, a tactic Zaos must be using to throw her off her logic. But it was so hard to think...because it did feel good.

“Say yes, Monica, and I will satisfy that ache you feel,” Zaos slipped his hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her forward so her forehead against against his, his smoky breath a caress against her mouth. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To feel me, deep inside, claiming you?” Zaos’s eyes were sin incarnate, his words a mirror of his actions and Monica could hardly think for drowning in him. His tone silken, imploring, so tempting she couldn’t imagine saying no. “Be a good girl and tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’ll belong to me.”

“...Y...Y-Yes,” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying, but her body was betraying her and so was her heart. Her mind could hardly keep up with the assault on her senses, and all she knew...was that she loved how it feel when Zaos purred out--

“Good girl,” he urged her forward, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that curled her toes in her stilettos. There was no space between them, her body forced to his and she found she didn’t...want to resist. Her shaking fingers were pressed to his chest, trapped between their bodies as Zaos drank from her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly she knew she was in over her head. No one should be able to kiss the way Zaos could; he was all silk heat and Dominance, so that she was parting her lips for him without needing to be told. His tongue swept along hers, claiming, exploring, tasting every inch of her he could reach and she was so distracted by his kiss that it took her a moment to realize he’d slipped the ring over her finger--but when it bonded to her flesh, she drew back from the kiss to stare down at it. It didn’t...hurt, but she’d have to cut her finger off to get the ring off. The only one who would be able to remove it was Zaos--

“Don’t be silly, little one.” Zaos pressed a kiss to her forehead, finally able to relax now that he’d cemented her forever--by claiming it. “That ring will never be taken off. You are mine, now and forever.”

Monica took a shuddering breath, feeling her lips beginning to swell from the force of Zaos’s claim. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was such a strange mixture of excited and petrified. Zaos slipped his hand up from her perfect little ass to her back, urging her to lie against his chest as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping to open the camera to take a picture of her lying on him, the ring clearly on display upon her finger.

“Smile, my love. We have to tell the others the good news.”

“T-The others?”

Zaos’s smirk could be felt against her hair as he snapped the picture to send to the ravenous, waiting Tribe. “Oh, darling. You have so very much to learn.”

The End...?

#{theme} : for monica #{collection} : 14 days of valentine's #{character} : zaos dreadful #{ MAN this was super fun to write! } #{ this really would make a killer story } #{ happy valentine's day punkin!! ♥ }

[winetae]

⇾ dick n’ go (m)

⇁ female reader x seokjin

⇁ smut, crack || shopping for dicc!au

⇁ male objectification, superficiality, fuckgirl!reader, dirty talk, and cocky!jin if that isn’t your thing

⇁12.8k 

. . .

After trooping through a series of horrendous first dates and mediocre hookups, you were convinced you would never find a man capable of satisfying your needs. Your friend recommends you try a slightly unconventional method to remedy your bad luck.  

↳ alternatively: seokjin has a five star dick and you decide to give it a go

a/n; happiest birthday to my porn watching partner in crime, the one who sends me pics of Seokjin Bulges and occasionally of hairy toes !! i love you (ps; ty to everyone who encouraged me to finally finish this semi autobiographical piece;;)

.

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“ — remarkable churn rate,” he boasted, the corner of his lips twitching into a satisfied smirk. “Of course, I’m aware this might not be of any significance to you, but it’s quite outstanding considering the circumstances.”

The soft glow of the candles cast shadows on his face, accentuating the tall bridge of his nose and the length of his eyelashes. He was classically handsome, with a strong brow and full lips, broad shoulders and a posture that belied his confidence.

At first, it had been easy to fake interest. His good looks had been enough of a distraction, but by the main course, your glass of red wine had become much more riveting than his one-sided conversations that all seemed to revolve around him. It wasn’t that you were turned off by cocky men. In fact, you liked someone who was confident in himself and his abilities. Confidence was generally an attractive trait in a partner, but tonight you couldn’t help but be put off by his behavior. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feign enthusiasm over his endless list of accomplishments, especially when he threw in a condescending remark your way every now and then.

This time you couldn’t even blame the dating agency for a faulty match-up. There had been no fluke of any kind; suited in crisp Tom Ford and polished Italian leather, he was exactly as described on paper—which had been all the more infuriating. Admittedly, when you had first met him tonight, you had swooned a little, not daring to believe your luck. With his slicked back hair and tailored suit, he was a sight for sore eyes. 

In hindsight, you should have known better than to get your hopes up, especially if you considered your track record with men.

“Ah… Congrats.” You managed a strained smile while surreptitiously reaching for the bottle of Pinot Noir.

Regret started to pool in your gut. Signing up on a dating website hadn’t been the wisest move, you now realized. Had the wooing process always been this tiring? Maybe you were rusty, having been out of the game for too long. It hadn’t even been that long since your very public break-up with your ex-boyfriend. 

A bitter taste lingered on your tongue when you let your mind wander back to the events leading up to the separation. All the missed calls and flimsy excuses should have alerted you, but instead of trying to talk things out, you had ignored the growing rift in your relationship. Now, you could only look back on those times with distaste. Truthfully speaking, there had been good times—great times, even—and maybe if things had ended cleanly then you wouldn’t be so worked up over the split. The break up would have been easier to digest if he hadn’t been such a prick... The worst part was he hadn’t even had the decency to deliver the news in person, as if none it had ever mattered to him like it had to you; no matter how you looked at it, it felt like two years of commitment had gone down the drain...

You gulped down the remnants of your drink, hoping to wash down the resurfacing memory, but not even the fancy wine bottled in 1982 could help you dial back the resentment that boiled beneath your skin. What kind of dickshit ended a relationship by changing their Facebook status to single?! It was a slap to the face that still stung no matter how many Netflix series you binged or pints of ice cream you devoured. Clearly, he had no respect for you... And that realization hurt more than the break-up itself. 

After a week of wallowing in self-pity, watching reruns of That 70’s Show and eating pack after pack of spicy Doritos, your friend had managed to pull you out of the obligatory post-breakup moping stage. Realistically, you weren’t ready or interested in jumping head first in any kind of new relationship, but your friend had insisted you needed to get over the asshole you had been committed to for the better part of two years. You didn’t like the term ‘rebound’, but that was essentially what you were looking for by signing up on dating websites. 

Meeting new people would be fun, she had promised. Yet here you sat squeezed into a dress one size too small, concealing yet another sigh by stuffing your face with one of the offered breadsticks. 

You were well aware you wouldn’t find the love of your life tonight. Your expectations hadn’t been high to begin with but your date was so dreadfully boring, for lack of better words, that you couldn’t help but be disappointed. There was no chemistry between the pair of you; whenever you sought to deviate the conversation to a new topic, he steered it back to his subject of interest. You had quickly realized there was no common ground: you were an art history major with no knowledge in marketing or communication; he planned to have a kid before the age of 35 while you were just looking for some mindless fun... You could blame it on the age gap or the fact he had a stable working job and you were still finishing off your studies, but you were evidently in different places in your lives with different goals and desires.

Restlessness was beginning to creep up your legs and it took a huge amount of self-restraint not to check the time on your phone. 

Putting aside your differences, it would have still  been nice if your date paid attention to you instead of talking over you at every turn. Still, you tried to stay optimistic despite the lack of chemistry. Maybe he wanted to impress you or perhaps it was all just nervous rambling. You could overlook his desire to monopolize the conversation for now. 

Well, if anything, at least you were getting expensive wine and a free meal out of this. You glanced down at your plate and then at his, noticing he hadn’t even gotten halfway through his medium rare steak. Why was he taking so long to eat the steak?! you silently despaired. Maybe if you glared at it for long enough, he would get the hint and cease his meaningless chatter.

“Oh, are you still hungry?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Should I call the waiter back?”

“NO, no!” You raised out your hands, waving them around in panic. But in your hurried attempt to dissuade him, you hadn’t noticed you had attracted the unwanted attention of the people nearby.

“That won’t be necessary,” you repeated quietly, slightly embarrassed by your outburst. You tucked your hair behind your ear self-consciously, trying to calm yourself down. The last thing you wanted was to create a scene.

“You must have quite the appetite to have finished so quickly.” He stared pointedly at the lone arugula leaf you hadn’t been able to pick up with your fork. You felt your cheeks flush at the insinuation, teeth tugging your bottom lip in vexation. Maybe he was just clumsy with his words and didn’t mean anything by it, but something about it didn’t sit well with you. Wanting to give him the benefit the doubt, you plastered on a smile. 

“I’m fine,” you forced out, the corner of your lips twitching from the strain. “I’m full now, anyway.”

“Are you sure? You were staring at my dinner quite, er, intently.” He prodded at his meal with the silverware, voice laden with skepticism. Hand slowly curling into a fist, you tried not to look too affronted.

“It’s okay!” he pressed on, misinterpreting your silence. “Don’t be ashamed! I like a girl with an appetite. Models these days are all bones—nothing to grab onto. I find women like you more attractive.”

He made grabby hands to illustrate his point, gaze swooping down to ogle the peak of cleavage on display shamelessly. Your outfit wasn’t even that revealing—a modest black dress with a sweetheart neckline— but the way he leered at you as if you were a slab of meat on a platter made your insides twist with disgust. Rather than making you feel sexy and desirable, the intensity of his appraisal made you feel like you were being coated over in a layer of slime. You bit down your retort, nails digging into the palm of your hand to distract yourself. 

“Oh?” you intoned dryly, shoulders hunching up defensively. 

“Most definitely,” he nodded, taking no note of your evident discomfort. “I like it when a woman is a bit bottom heavy.”

“Excuse me?” This time you couldn’t hide the sheer incredulity that colored your tone, brows arching.

Your eyes fluttered to a close as you took a steadying breath, not trusting yourself to keep your expression in check. Was he being serious? This had to be some kind of joke... You refused to believe someone could be that dense. Even if he had meant his comment as praise, the way he went about to compliment you didn’t flatter you in the least. Sure, people were allowed to have their preferences but something in the way he spoke and delivered his speech made your skin crawl with mortification.

Either way, you knew you couldn’t sit through this dinner for any longer than you had to. You saw no point in letting the date drag on indefinitely since it was clear that it wasn’t going to be working out.

The five course meal wasn’t exactly cheap but you would pay your share. You’d even take on his portion of the bill if it meant you could go home right away. Sure, it would leave a small dent in your wallet, but you refused to stay and listen to him drone on for another two hours.

“I think I’m feeling sick, actually,” you excused yourself, clutching your stomach in a dramatic fashion, but even to your own ears, it sounded like a feeble pretext. “I’m really sorry for cutting this short, but I need to lie down... I’ll pay for dinner, don’t worry about it.”

“Nonsense,” he cut in right away, looking affronted you would dare to suggest such a thing. “You’re right, the food here isn’t that good anyways.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“It was a pleasure dining with you tonight.” He wiped his lips with the white chiffon, his voice dropping to a seductive octave so suddenly you could only gape up at him. “Would you be interested in joining me for tea back in my loge?”

You froze, eyes subconsciously darting around, refusing to meet his unexpected suggestive gaze. To be frank, you might have been tempted by his offer for ‘tea’ before his failed attempt to wine and dine you. But after having suffered through two hours of his presence, your only wish was to never meet him again.

“Ah, um,” you floundered, looking for a way out. “I really don’t think I’m feeling too well… But thank you for the offer, Minwoo.”

“Minhyuk.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “It’s Minhyuk.”

“Mmh? That’s what I said,” you fibbed, averting your eyes and silently cursing yourself for your inattentiveness.

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole as it became apparent that no amount of apologies could salvage the situation. Guilt churned in the pit of your stomach, discomfiture rendering you rigid. Sure, Minhyuk or whatever had been a proper asshole but you still felt bad for forgetting his actual name. It had happened to you once before, back when you had first started dating, and you could still remember the bone-crushing humiliation and awkwardness as he had confused you with some other random girl. Back then, you had sworn never to subject anyone to the same situation, so for it to happen now... You were disappointed in yourself but there was really nothing you could do about it. 

Needless to say, your mistake had made things painfully awkward between the two of you. His ego had taken an undeniable hit that no amount of apologies could probably fix. Minhyuk did not even bother to conceal his sigh of relief when you called for a taxi cab to drive you home. In any other situation, you might have been offended at how quickly he tried to get rid of you, but you were equally desperate to escape your date. 

.

.

You didn’t miss Minhyuk in the slightest but for some reason your mind kept wandering back to your failed date at the most inconvenient times. Like a broken record, the memory of that night kept replaying in your mind on loop. He was like pesky fly you couldn’t shake off—a low buzzing in your ears distracting you from everyday activities. 

Why were the men you dealt with such dickheads? You silently cursed your horrible luck with the male species as you spread butter over your toast, crunching into the slice of bread with more force than necessary, teeth clanking together. 

You hadn’t expected dating to be so exhausting. Being with your ex for so long, you had fallen into a complacent routine of sorts; it had stopped being exciting, but at least it was comfortable and familiar. You knew each other’s likes and dislikes and would adjust accordingly to each other’s personalities. Restarting the entire getting-to-know you process just seemed way too bothersome to deal with. Maybe Minhyuk or whatever hadn’t been the right guy for you, but in all honesty you didn’t want to enter the dating pool at the moment. 

What you needed was someone who was on the same wavelength as you—someone around your age that was only interested in having a good time. After the emotional rollercoaster you had previously been on, the last thing you wanted was to jump into another relationship. You told yourself there was no use rushing it. But just because you were giving up the idea of dating for the time being, didn’t mean having some occasional fun was prohibited.

Being single was a good thing.

Over the next couple of weeks, you kept repeating this phrase, hoping the mantra would convince you of its truth. Weren’t you supposed to be living your glory days right now? What was the point of settling down when you could be having stress-free fun whenever you wanted? Relationships just seemed like way too much work, especially when finding the right guy was a task in itself. Dating websites and blind dates set up by your friends just seemed like such a hassle you didn’t have the time to deal with... But honestly speaking, masturbating wasn’t as fulfilling as getting laid on the regular. That was one particular aspect of your old relationship that you missed. You didn’t need to be in a relationship to be happy and satisfied. But even though you technically didn’t need a functioning cock to get off, who were you to turn down a good fuck? 

So the logical thing to do was to take a page out of the fuckboy manual and stock up on a giant box of condoms. It felt nice to flirt around when you knew you didn’t have to commit to anything. Guys were surprisingly easy to rile up and they all seemed desperate to prove their own worth. And although you had your doubts over the validity of their claims, you let yourself be convinced once or twice by their smooth and practiced lines. But every single time, the ending had been either anticlimactic or disastrously bad. 

Youjin, a classmate you were friendly with, seemed to take pity on you when you recounted your latest attempt at hooking up. She had invited you over to her place for a round of consolation drinks and you had never been more eager to down a shot of alcohol in your life.

“He had a nervous jizz? Did you even get to see his dick before he creamed his jeans?” She patted your shoulder in sympathy before handing you another shot of tequila.

“Nope. Nothing. Couldn’t even tell you if he had hairy balls or not.” You shrugged, a nonchalant expression settling over your features. “I groped a feel before he, uh... creamed his jeans. Dunno. Kind of felt underwhelmed.”

“Size doesn’t matter.” Youjin reminded you with a nudge. “It’s how he works his machine that counts.”

“Machine?” You stifled a snort behind your hand. “Well, Jungkook’s engine failed him. I touched his dick over the jeans for maybe ten seconds? He didn’t even last long enough for me to take his belt off. I don’t know who was more embarrassed but he kicked me out of his room before I could really say anything.”

“Look on the bright side... Maybe this means you’re that good. You must have magic fucking fingers.” She wiggles her hands in your face, her sparkly manicured nails on display. “What made you think hooking up with someone in the same class as you was a good idea anyway? Isn’t this the basic rule of fucking... No shitting where you eat.” 

“I don’t know... Convenience? He was there and it seemed like an easy fuck, you know? I just want a nice lay. And I thought I would have a good time! We’ve been texting for a while and he kept saying he would make it worth my time... You’re right, I shouldn’t have trusted him. He looks like he just grew out of puberty... I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

“Oh yeah, there’s no doubt you need to get dicked down. My doctor said good sex is one of the primary contributors to good health and inner happiness. But things will just get super messy if you keep hooking up with guys you see every day. What if Jungkook ended up your partner for next month’s presentation? Do you know how fucking awkward things get when you’re trying make a powerpoint presentation on rococo furniture with a guy who has had his mouth on your nips? I’ve been there, okay, and not only does it make you question all your life decisions, but it fucks up your grades. So it’s a lose-lose situation you’re better off without.”

Youjin’s solution to your problems was bringing you to the nearest night club. Her reasoning was that any guy you picked up there was also probably looking for a quick one night stand. In her books, club hookups were the easiest way to have a good time without resorting to fucking your classmate.

“Wear a slut skirt!” Out of reflex, you caught the article of clothing that flew your way. It was a short, leather piece that promised to mold to your every curve. “And pin your hair up—it looks really nice like that!”

“Calm down,” you huffed. “We’re just going to the club.”

“So? Who knows, you might find the love of your life tonight!”

“Let’s be realistic, the chance of that is slimmer than winning the lottery... “ You shimmied into the tight skirt, smoothing over any creases, silently admiring the way it made your ass look bigger than it usually did. 

“Never say never. Did you know Nicole Richie met her husband in a club?” 

“Who?”

“Nevermind, just put on the fucking skirt, okay? Hmm, do you want me to lend you my old push-up bra?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” you deadpanned, your raised eyebrow twitching. She didn’t have to bring up the fact she had miraculously gotten a cup size bigger than you last summer. You looked down at your breasts with a frown, silently cursing. Why couldn’t the weight you gained go to your boobs? 

In the end, you did borrow her padded push-up bra. You would have been a fool to turn down an instant breast lift offer. No one would know the difference anyway, not unless you let them paw at your boobs. And with your luck, an accidental grope on the dancefloor might be the most action you would get tonight. 

The club Youjin brought you to was swarmed with college kids that were all looking to dance away the stress of the upcoming exam season. Leaving you to your own devices, she gave you a good luck pat on your shoulder before going off to order a martini at the bar.

It didn’t take long for someone to approach you but you shrugged them off, not interested in hooking up with freshman kids that probably just learned how to roll on a condom. If you were going to hookup with a fuckboy tonight, you wanted him to be the most experienced guy in the club. 

You didn’t have to wait too long for someone to match your criteria to bump into you. He exuded a certain a charisma the other guys hadn’t, the dark of the room making his smooth skin look like molten gold. 

“Your friend is gorgeous,” he yelled into your ear, one of his hands sliding down to rest on the small of your back. You had to lean forward until you could make out the words he was mouthing over the heavy bass; his breath smelled like whiskey and coke but not unpleasantly so.

From up close, you could see the way he eyed over Youjin dancing up a storm on the other side of the room, pearly white teeth biting his plump lower lip as his eyes lingered on her ass. You could hardly blame him—even you were entranced by the way she flipped her long, glossy hair and the smooth movements of her hips she synchronized in time with the beat of the music. 

Youjin was the best dancer you knew. For the longest time she had tried to teach you how to slut drop but after many failed practice sessions in front of your bathroom mirror, she had signed you off as a lost cause. In your defense, you weren’t a terrible dancer... But next to her? You looked like a waddling penguin that was learning how to walk for the first time. Hence why you never had any luck pulling guys if you stuck by her side. 

“Can you talk to her for me?”

Tilting your head, you contemplated his request. Neon green spots of light danced over his features, making his jaw look sharper than it probably was. He looked harmless enough, but it was hard to tell for sure...You would never judge someone by their face. Even if he looked like he was incapable of harming a fly, you weren’t duped into believing he had any innocent intentions behind his actions. After all, this was a night club filled to the brim with testosterone—a place for people to find an easy lay—so there was no room to misunderstand his question. 

“Why can’t you ask her?” He was a grown ass man after all... You couldn’t understand why he didn’t just ask her himself. Playing the part of the messenger was just so tiresome—this wasn’t prom and you were too old for this kind of silly game.

He turned to look at you properly for the first time, the corners of his mouth already quirked up into a charming smile. Your gaze was instantly drawn to his plush lips, shiny and inviting. You tried to shake yourself out of your trance, eyes snapping back to meet his knowing stare, but he made nonchalance difficult. You had always had a weakness for soft, pouty lips. Certain he was the type of guy that would use that piece of information against you to get what he wanted, you fixed your gaze on a safer place—the shiny spot of skin between his eyebrows.

“Huh, you’re pretty too!” His mouth stretched into a smile, eyes slanting into crescents.

“Thanks,” you replied, dryly. Unfortunately, your sarcasm wasn’t conveyed properly and he seemed to take your words at face value. Thinking you had warmed up to him, he slid closer to you, the hand resting on your lower back pulling you flush against his hard chest. 

He leaned in closer still, face crowding near yours, so you felt the warmth of his breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. For one drawn out moment, you thought he was going to lean in and kiss you, but instead he yelled into your ear, “say, if you ask your pretty friend for me, I’ll hook you up with my friend. You’re just his type!”

He pointed over to a guy with a plain white shirt and a black cap on, grinding into a girl’s ass a few steps away from you. You bit off a scoff, not believing what you were hearing. Did he really think you were willing for some kind of trade off? His friend wasn’t ugly in the least, but you still felt a bit offended for thinking you could be passed around. 

“I’ll speak to my friend for you. You’re totally his type.” 

There was no hiding your disbelief at his audacity. You risked a glace back in his direction to check if he was being completely serious, and you almost laughed out loud when you saw no trace of deception on his face. He must have been really interested in Youjin for him to beg you like this.

He was handsome enough that you were sure he wouldn’t have any trouble attracting other people, but he seemed fixated on your friend. If you hadn’t been slightly intoxicated, you would have told him straight away to deal with it on his own, but the alcohol burning in your veins made it harder to think properly. 

“I don’t think he needs any help in that department!” You pointedly eyed his friend, who was still attached by the pelvis to his dancing partner. 

“He’ll drop her for you, trust me.” His unwavering confidence made you falter, and he took advantage of your few seconds of shocked silence to call over his friend. You couldn’t believe he would actually leave the girl he was with just to join the both of you. 

There was a slight pause as you both sized each other up. The first thing you noticed was that his simple white t-shirt was almost see through, made transparent by his sweat. Despite your better judgement, you found yourself eyeing his defined muscles that were perfectly displayed under the thin layer of fabric. When your eyes met his, he shot you a knowing wink, his abs flexing under the disco reflected light. 

He was acting like your typical campus fuckboy. Guys like him were easy to figure out. You had frequented them enough to know they had a one-track mind and were programmed to function according to the eat-sleep-fuck cycle. He was your ideal candidate to take home because you knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious tonight. 

“So, do you dance?” 

“Not really...” He leaned in closer to hear your answer over the booming bass. He was close enough that you could smell his aftershave, the clean scent a welcomed reprieve from the sweat-infested room. 

“It’s okay, I can teach you.” A hand fell to your waist to bring you closer still. Distantly, it registered just how fucking built he was. He looked like the type that had a gold gym membership just so he could walk around campus with sleeveless tops and show off his body to the student population. 

Pressing his strong body against yours, he gripped your hips and guided your movements. The first guy long forgotten, you slowly relaxed under his hold, swiveling your hips in time to the beat. It was easy to let your mind drift off, your thoughts consumed by images of your dance partner fucking into you with the same fluidity he was showcasing now. He was a bit shorter than the men you usually went for, but his thick thighs and sensual grinding were winning you over. Besides, he moved his body like Magic Mike and that was something you weren’t about to pass up. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Youjin shoot you a thumbs-up, mouthing words that suspiciously looked like ‘get that dick’ but it was hard to tell for certain. Maybe she was right... One night stands like this were simpler to deal with than attempting to get into bed with your classmate. For one, you wouldn’t have to feel awkward every time you walked into class and made accidental eye-contact. 

All you wanted was to get laid properly. Finding a fuck buddy was too much trouble and there was no guarantee that would be a success, either. In most cases you had heard of, one person always ended up catching feelings and that was an additional mess you didn’t have the time to take care of. 

“Want to walk me home?” You asked coyly, eyelashes fluttering, your palms sliding up his chest seductively. His eyes darkened, mouth crashing into yours in response.

You didn’t even make it to the exit door, clearly too impatient and horny to wait until you reached a mattress. The entire thing was messy and rushed—teeth clanking against each other, swollen lips bitten red. You felt like a hormonal teenager all over again but you were too caught up in the moment to be embarrassed by your actions.

His large hands gripped your waist, and you had no choice but to follow his movements, shuffling backwards until your back met the dank wall of the bathroom stall. 

“I want to see these pretty lips around my cock,” he groaned, hands slipping under the hem of your skirt to grab a handful of your ass. “I love it when girls get their lipstick all over me. S’fucking hot.” 

“I’m not going to blow you.” You shook your head, trying to hold your ground despite his insistent kisses up the side of you neck. “No offense, but you look like I might catch something if I let you put your dick in any of my holes.”

If you hadn’t been inebriated you might have phrased it better. Whatever. You didn’t really care about his feelings when it was obvious all he wanted from you was to get his dick wet for a couple of seconds before busting a nut. Making out with him was already a big health hazard, you didn’t want to risk anything more by getting fucked in a smelly bathroom stall. 

“Fine.” He shrugged like it was a common occurrence to have girls push him away because they were worried of him carrying diseases. “How ‘bout a handjob?”

You shrugged, not really objecting to the idea. Given the choice, you would have still preferred to give him the handjob with gloves on or something, but you figured you could forego the extra precaution just this once. 

It didn’t go as smoothly as you expected to (although no bathroom hookups had ever been plain sailing in your personal experience). Your manicured nails made it hard to maneuver around in the cramped space; this became apparent when you awkwardly fumbled with the zipper of his jeans for a second too long. Huffing with impatience, he swatted your hand away, “here, let me.” 

His dick, like the rest of his form, didn’t hurt to look at. Knowing your luck, you had half expected him to whip out a fungus covered penis, but to your relief it looked acceptably normal. 

You spat into your hand, coating his length with firm strokes until he hardened completely under your touch. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, his small hand coming up to cover your own to speed up your movements. “Yeah, just like that. Spit on it again, fuck.”

You obliged even though the entire thing was messy; his precum mixed with your spit helped your hand glide over his shaft in quick strokes. Slick sounds interlaced with heavy breathing filled the small bathroom stall. The obscene noises spiked up your level of arousal and you let out a dissatisfied whine to remind him to take care of you, too.

You jumped as you felt his hand creep up your flank, his slim fingers reaching for your bra. Belatedly, you realized he was about five seconds away from discovering the most padded bra made by man so you hurried to dissuade him.

“Not the boobs.” Your right hand paused mid-stroke so you could make sure he got the message. “They’re, uh, they’re sensitive right now.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, instead shoving the same hand down the waistband of your skirt without any warning. His plump lips swallowed down your surprised squeal, a groan making its way into your mouth.

His fingers trailed the trims of lace on your underwear, hooking under the hem to trace over your heat. He didn’t waste any time, sinking his fingers into your wet center to curl inside, vainly trying to find your g-spot. His thumb traced over your bundle of nerves a little too roughly and you squeezed his length in response. The muscles in his arms flexed as he plunged his digits into your slick heat. You closed your eyes, trying to grow accustomed to his relentless ministrations. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“What?” The sheer disgust in his tone jolted you back to reality, your head banging into the wall with a dull sound. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

He brought up his hand so you could see the way his small fingers glistened with your juices and b—

“Couldn’t you have told me you were on your period before making me finger you?” 

“Ummmmm.” Admittedly, you weren’t being very eloquent but it was difficult to gather your thoughts when there was fucking blood on his hand and under his nails. You were way too freaked out to think about this calmly. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. What the...  

“It’s not my time of the month...” You frowned as he went to wipe off his hand with toilet paper. “I’m not due until another week and half. What the fuck...”

Now that there wasn’t a haze covering your vision, it was easier to analyze the situation logically. And without his fingers hammering away against your walls, it was easier to notice a sting near your sensitive skin. It was starting to dawn on you that the asswipe had actually fingered you too hard, making you bleed. You were about to screech in horror but he continued on, interrupting your inner screaming.

“Yeah, right. There was fucking blood! I know I’ve had a few drinks but look!” He waved around the soiled toilet paper to prove his point, ignoring the way you coiled away in revulsion. “You’re disgusting.”

You couldn’t believe the actual nerve of this shithead. Incensed, you had a hard time keeping your voice down, wanting nothing more than to shove his head into the disgusting toilet bowl to shut him up.

“I don’t have my period! You’re the one who tried to claw out my vagina!” Inwardly, you seethed. “Get the fuck out of here while I’m still being nice.”

“Whatever.” 

You sent a text to Youjin informing her you would take a taxi cab home. The night was coming to a premature end but you were too angry to go find someone else to take home. You weren’t in the right mind to trust anyone else with your vagina at the moment, not when it was apparently in danger of being clawed out.

youjin [01:13 am] homerun? ;)

She was so far from the truth that it was actually kind of sad... You were starting to think you were cursed. Why was it this troublesome to find someone who would give you a satisfying experience? Why were the guys you met so inadequate? 

All of your experiences were getting progressively worse and you weren’t sure what to blame your bad luck on. You weren’t a bad person... You paid your all of your bills and picked up your dog’s poo when you took him out for a walk. Why was karma being a petty bitch and fucking you over?

At your return, your roommate raised an inquisitive eyebrow, eyeing your disheveled form in concern. Upon noticing your despondent expression, she nodded in understanding. “Was it really that bad?” 

“I mean… It could have been... worse. Oh, who am I kidding, it was fucking awful." You cringed, catching your refection in the mirror overhanging the foyer. The corner of your eyes were smudged with kohl and your hair looked like a greasy mess. “Shit, I look like a wreck. Let me shower, yeah? I smell like piss and beer."

You needed to wipe down the gross layer of sweat that covered your body and check your vagina for any irrevocable damage. Thankfully, after a quick inspection, everything seemed to be okay and functioning properly but you still couldn’t trust Thomas or whatever his name was. You spent ten minutes cleaning your hands with soap, scrubbing every possible surface to make sure you weren’t going to catch anything else.

What you needed was a full body cleanse. You flinched as your toes made contact with the cold tiles, hands blindly reaching for the shower knob. Ice cold water rained down your back but you clenched your jaw and endured it, hoping it would distract you from the worries plaguing your mind. 

Soon enough, steam enveloped you, heat soaking into your skin, muscles slowly unwinding. However, it became apparent that the comforting spray of water wasn’t enough to dispel any of your concerns.

Honestly, what was the use of having a nice dick if you couldn't use it properly? Why would men boast about their skills when it was obvious they didn't give two flying fucks about their partner's sexual pleasure? Why were men so selfish? You weren't even asking for much... Was one orgasm really too much to ask for? 

"Men are gross," you whispered to yourself bitterly, reaching for the peach scented body wash. Perhaps it was time to finally invest in a nice vibrator, because if your recent experiences were anything to go by, you wouldn’t be getting off any time soon.

You didn’t even have it in you to be angry. The frustration over your lack of success had slowly ebbed away and left only room for doubt—doubt in yourself and your ability to not attract assholes. There are so many men out there; you refused to believe they were all one and the same. Still, your experiences so far had proved you otherwise and your optimism was beginning to dwindle.

After making sure you were completely clean, you wandered off to the living room, wrapped in your fluffy bathrobe. You flopped down on the couch, your dripping hair making a mess on the furniture.

“I’m cursed,” you bemoaned, words muffled because you had face planted into the cushions. “Dicks hate me.”

“Why are you always so dramatic?” your roommate scoffed, not even bothering to sound sympathetic, attention focused on a rerun of Project Runway.

“I’m serious.” You sat back up, attaching your hair so it would stop soaking the back of your nightshirt. “I think men are allergic to me.”

You recounted all of your failed encounters, not leaving out that one time a guy had ‘accidentally’ rimmed you while trying to eat you out. What a nightmare. You still got full body shivers whenever you remembered that horrific experience. At the end of your heated monologue, you couldn’t help but get a little emotional, lamenting your string of failures.

“Listen to me... Let’s get one thing straight—you are not the problem. All those guys were self-centered assholes who thought they were hot shit. Not everyone is like that, you know. Are you seriously going to give up on dick because of a few bad experiences?” 

“I’m not interested in dating,” you insisted, ignoring her. “But I never said I wasn’t interested in dick. I just... want one that knows what it's doing. Does that make sense? I don’t want to have to deal with period scares or guys that try to sneak in a bit of butt action when you’re distracted."

“Oh?” She visibly perked up at your words, trying to assess how serious you were being. "You know... There's an app for that."

"I've tried dating websites... But it's exhausting, and I'm not ready for any emotional inv—"

"Not that," she cut in impatiently, reaching for her purse and rummaging inside. 

“A sex toy seems like the better option.” You pointed out, reluctantly giving into the idea. “I don’t really like the feel of silicone but—”

After a few taps on her phone and a triumphant “hmmfph” sound, she thrust her device in your face. It took a few short seconds for the screen to come into focus; the proximity nearly made you go cross-eyed.

“Dick n’ Go?" Doubt seeped through your words. "Why does this sound like a bad porn movie? How does this even work...” You trailed off, not convinced by her idea in the slightest. It was hard to trust someone who liked to put cucumber slices in the water pitcher just because ‘it looked aesthetic’.

“It’s like the upgraded, safer version of Tinder. You’re guaranteed to land someone who knows what he’s doing. Trust me... If Stevie and I hadn’t gotten back together, I’d probably still be using Dick n’ Go all the time. This is the best invention of the 21st century. Everyone should be using this!”

You looked down at the her phone suspiciously. How did she expect you do jump onto the Dick n’ Go bandwagon when it had such a terrible name... 

“Just give it a try!” she persisted, nudging you with her elbow. “No offense, but it can't get any worse."

“Okay,” you relented. “But only this once! And if this fails, then I’ll just accept my fate.”

You waited for the app to download on your own phone, inwardly cringing at the phallic illustration used as the logo. 

Glancing over the questionnaire, you filled out the form with the requested details. The beginning seemed fairly normal—requiring your basic information such as your name and age. You didn’t think much of it, but as you slowly made your way through the rest of the questions, worry and heavy doubt started to sink in.

Calling your friend over, you motioned at the screen in front of you. “Why are they asking me the penis size I prefer? Is this some kind of joke...”

Your friend’s manic cackling did nothing to soothe your growing apprehension. “I’m telling you, this app is fucking genius. Revolutionary. Just take it seriously for now… You’ll see. You really won’t regret it.”

You considered her advice and figured it wouldn’t hurt to try, even if the application method was a bit…weird and unconventional. Signing up didn’t implicate commitment of any kind, so you could always back down if things didn’t work out.

Once you finished completing all the necessary information and choosing a nice picture of yourself (cleavage included), your nerves started getting the best of you. A strange feeling seized you right then—a premonition of sorts.  

As the first picture loaded onto your screen, you almost dropped your phone in shock. After the initial surprise had worn off, your attention focused back onto the first person’s profile. Instead of being greeted with a flattering picture of his face, a large, limp dick hanging between a pair of sturdy thighs showed up. 

The format reminded you a bit of tinder but as you flicked through the different profiles, it became apparent that every possible match had pictures of their dicks instead of the usual bathroom selfie or cute snaps of them out with their dog.

“Some of this is a bit…” You faltered, shooting your friend another dubious glance. “Are you sure this is okay? Why do they have listed ‘vigorous humping’ as an option?”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Personally, I like the ones who are good at ‘powerful thwacking’ but to each their own.” 

You pretended like you hadn’t heard her last comment, thumb still flicking through the dick pics. It was your first time seeing so many penises at once and to say you were overwhelmed wasn’t an exaggeration. 

“Why would anyone agree to this? Isn’t it a bit... How can they be okay with strangers judging them off their dicks alone?”

“That’s because there’s nothing that strokes a guy’s ego more than a dick compliment. You see the stars next to their names? You have to evaluate their performance after you take a ride. You think guys who are shit in bed would sign up on this app? Their puny egos wouldn’t be able to handle getting zero stars.” 

You figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.. Especially if mutual satisfaction was 100% guaranteed. Trying to find the best rated dick took a bit longer than expected, but you finally landed on a profile that seemed more than acceptable. Not only did he have a good reputation but the dick was actually nice to look at.

you [03:01 am] is that a fake dick

Granted, it probably was not the best conversation starter, but you weren’t exactly a dick dating expert. In your defense, how were you supposed to start a normal conversation when the only information you had about your partner was how well endowed he was? No matter how you looked at the situation, it felt like you were having a conversation with an actual dick. 

Feeling embarrassed, you turn off your phone. The app seemed a little too ridiculous for your tastes and the next day you had already forgotten all about it. Too busy nursing a hangover and tending to your aching vagina, you didn’t give Dick n’ Go any second thoughts until a message pinged in during the night as you were getting ready for bed.

jin [11:12 pm] 100% real lol

jin [11:12 pm] why? afraid you can’t handle it

At his speedy answer, you could only scoff, fingers suspended over your keyboard as you debated whether or not to humor him. He sounded like just another campus fuckboy, way too overconfident in his own skills, when the reality was probably very far from his claims. The recent events had made you even more wary of guys who bragged too much because their actions never lived up to the expectations they had built. 

But the five gold stars next to his name seemed to be winking at you, teasing you further. You hadn’t come across any profile with over three stars, so the full marks did pique your curiosity. Despite your better judgement, you wanted to know if he was really as good as his description suggested... Didn’t five stars imply he was the closest thing to a Sex God? You tried to imagine being with someone who never received complaints in the bedroom but everything just seemed too unbelievable to take seriously. Instead of feeling intimidated by his reputation, doubt clouded your thoughts. Surely someone couldn’t be that good. Right? 

Yet, for some inexplicable reason, you chose to continue the conversation. There was no harm in humoring him for a bit longer, you convinced yourself. But just as you started typing out a response, you backtracked, realizing how foolish you were acting. 

you [11:14 pm] i can handle anything just fine

you [11:14 pm] ur way too full of yourself...

There. Hopefully that would be the end of that, and he would leave you alone now. 

You didn’t even know why you had agreed to do this; clearly, this arrangement was full of obnoxious men with over-inflated egos. Still, somewhere deep down, curiosity gnawed at your insides. The big “What If” lingered in the back of your mind as you stared at the darkened screen of your phone full of expectation. 

jin [11:17 pm] you’re the one who talks big.. you think you can handle what i give you? hha

jin [11:18 pm] it’s ok.. 

jin [11:18 pm] it’s cute that you think you can

you [11:20 pm] seems like u’ve got me all figured out

you [11:21 pm] we’ll see who is right

.

.

At first, you chose to indulge him just because it was entertaining. But the more messages were exchanged, a strange thrill buzzed through your body as you anticipated his replies. 

Once, you had made the grave mistake of opening an incoming picture in the middle of a lecture, only to be greeted with the image of his erect length, pink and shiny with precum. Thankfully, no one had seemed to notice Jin’s dick, but you had been ready to crawl out of the lecture hall in embarrassment. And not because someone might have seen Jin’s impressive erection. You didn’t really care about that. What you would have a hard time admitting was that a single picture had gotten you so worked up, concentrating in class had become impossible.

Jin—that arrogant prick—had somehow known how affected he had made you. Since then, he hadn’t hesitated  to tease you further over the next few days with various pictures of his dick. Now, you never knew what kind of image you would be met with. It could be anything from a tame picture of his jean clad covered bulge to a short five second video of his hand stroking his shaft, his thumb swiping the tip to collect a bead of precum. Once, he had even had the audacity to moan your name right before he came, white dripping out of his spent member. 

No one could blame you for being wary whenever you opened his messages. But in the safety of your own room, you allowed yourself to open his latest message. In all honesty, you had waited all day to finally be able to view the sent picture in privacy. You clicked on the image, enlarging it so that it lit up your screen. Without conscious thought, your lips parted in surprise. 

The first thought to cross your mind was 'what the heck... he could at least try to make his catfishing believable'. His face defied the norm... With perfectly symmetrical features, your eyes didn’t know where to focus its gaze. You took a moment to stare at his plush lips before snapping out of it, typing out a furious response, fingers moving so quickly you had to backtrack to correct your typos.

you [11:54 pm] r u kidding me??

you [11:54 pm] send me your real face ;(

jin [11:54 pm] what makes you think i'm not? lol

you [11:55 pm] no normal person looks good in the bj angle!!

jin [11:57 pm] the bj angle? lmao

You paused as the three gray dots appeared on your screen once more. He left you no time to answer back; the short buzzes against your palm signaled the onslaught of incoming messages that arrived one right after the other, illuminating the dark of your room.

jin [11:58 pm] you'll have to get used to it

jin [11:58 pm] i like eye contact when i get head

jin [11:58 pm] you're imagining it right now arent u? ha

jin [11:58 pm] are you wet

There was something amusing about his overflowing confidence. You weren’t sold quite yet, but there was no harm in continuing the conversation. 

you [11:59 pm] u really think you can get me wet over text??

you [11:59 pm] you'll have to work harder for that

jin [11:59 pm] mmh i like a challenge

jin [12:00 am] but it's okay to admit it too

jin [12:00 am] i won't judge

Now that you knew what he claimed to look like, the entire thing became a little less ridiculous and a bit more real. You weren’t just talking to a faceless, talking dick... There was an actual person attached to it. Said person just happened to be abnormally handsome... 

It would be incredibly stupid of you to believe him. But his account was verified. That had to count for something, right? You were about to type out a response when he continued on.  

jin [12:01 am] in fact

jin [12:02 am] i like it better that way, when i get you to admit you're hungry for dick

you [12:04 am] i'm not... so good luck with that

Instantly, you regretted not responding with something more witty. Your words sounded hollow and unconvincing. He probably knew as well as you did that you were interested. Why else would you keep messaging him after this long? He was the only one you talked to on the app, the only who truly caught your attention and curiosity.

Gnawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you wondered what he would answer. For a fleeting second, you wondered where all of this would take you... It was easier to imagine yourself actually going through with all of this now that you had a face to match to his name. 

jin [12:06 am] i think you are

jin [12:06 am] why else would you join dng? you need a nice dick to satisfy you

jin [12:07 am] you love cock

Your mouth dropped open as you read over the latest messages. The words bothered you because deep down you knew he was right. You were a thirsty slut who wanted a good dicking down. But he didn’t have to be so crude about it... Although maybe etiquette didn’t matter when you were part of an app called Dick n’ Go.

you [12:09 am] ur right..

you [12:10 am] i love cock

you [12:10 am] but only one that knows what it’s doing

jin [12:11 am] sounds like a challenge

jin [12:12 am] i don’t have 5 fucking stars for nothing ;-)

.

.

.

Maybe agreeing to setting up an arrangement was a bad idea. In all honesty, you had been very unsure about everything. During the nights leading up to this day, you had doubted your choice many times but Jin had never failed to reassure you. He reminded you that you were free to cancel anytime or step away from the entire thing. 

The thing was... You weren’t worried that it would somehow go terribly wrong. Your real worry was that you would never be able to go back to your normal hookups after this. How were you ever supposed to be the same again? Jin was reputed to be a sex god. Going from horrible fucks to the best fuck of your entire life was too steep a jump and you weren’t sure you were ready for it.

Your worries weren’t unfounded. 

The first thought to cross your mind was “how the fuck is someone like him real?”. Now, you had seen your fair share of handsome men in your life, but he really took the cake. Equipped with symmetrical features, doe eyes and the softest looking pair of plump lips, you had a hard time believing a face like his truly existed. You blinked quickly, trying to pull your attention away from his draw-dropping face, only for your attention to fall on his shoulders. 

How the heck could someone’s shoulders be so broad?! He looked like he could carry two people on each side and still have room for more. You were glad he wasn’t gifted with the ability to read minds. He might have been put off by the amount of internal screaming that was currently taking place, and the last thing you wanted was for him to run away. 

“Not what you were expecting?” he chuckled. 

“I, um,” you stuttered, not sure what to do with yourself all of a sudden. For some ridiculous reason, you felt your pulse race as his gaze perused your form. 

Snapping yourself out of your mindless reverie, you tried your best to appear unaffected when he took off his hoodie. The thin cotton shirt underneath hugged his body tightly, showcasing his broad shoulders and rippling back muscles. You wanted to swim on his back. Or let him backstroke on your body... Really, you weren’t a difficult person; you welcomed either option.

“I look good, don’t I.” The way he delivered the phrase showed he didn’t expect an answer, the corners of his lips already curled into a haughty smirk. 

His confidence made you narrow your eyes in response. The sight reminded you of all the fuckboys you had encountered in the past few weeks. They always bragged and boasted, their words fueled by the same excessive confidence. It always started out the same way—with empty promises and self-praise—but this time you weren’t going to let yourself be fooled. You didn’t care if Jin was the most handsome human being your eyes had every laid eyes upon. The point of this entire arrangement was for you to get an earth shattering orgasm and you weren’t going to settle for anything less than spectacular. He was rated five stars on his profile for a reason—now was the time to prove it.

“Listen, Jin,” you said with faux sweetness coating your words. “It doesn’t matter what you look like... Looks don’t matter if you’re going to end up leaving me unsatisfied. So don’t think, even for a second, that you can roll over, let me do all the work and then leave me high and dry.”

“Unsatisfied?” He parroted, brow furrowing like he had no idea what the word meant. “Sounds like you’ve never been with a real man before.” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong on that front but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was right. The last thing he needed was an ego boosting.

“You talk too much...” Scoffing, you crossed your arms to showcase your annoyance. “Guys like you usually don’t even know where to find my clit. It’s sad. You really shouldn’t build up expectations like that, only to disappoint when it’s time to get your dick wet.”

An offended squawk escaped his plump lips. “Hey now. First of all, unless your pussy is a jungle down there, you can rest assured finding your clit won’t be an Easter egg hunt. Who do you think I am?”

He ignored the mild look of indignation that crossed over your features. Instead, he took a seat on the queen-sized bed, his legs falling open invitingly. With difficulty, you kept your eyes trained on his face even though they itched to wander down.

“Come sit on Daddy’s lap.”

“Fuck, no,” you grumbled at once, ignoring the way his gruff tone shot arousal through your stomach. “I’m not calling you Daddy or Papi or whatever else you’re probably into.”

He shrugged, otherwise not budging an inch. He looked at you expectantly, confident that you would give in. “If you want to cum tonight like a good girl, then I suggest you take a seat.” He patted his thighs for emphasis, your eyes immediately drawn to the enticing bulge that was nicely showcased in his tight jeans.

That arrogant fucker did look good, you admitted inwardly, scowling slightly as you did so.

You sat down gingerly, trying to keep your composure in check. The ever-permanent smirk on his face revealed he hadn’t missed your audible gulp when you made contact with his strong thighs. 

“So far, I’m pretty unimpressed...” You lied, shifting around on his lap just you could feel how comfortable your makeshift seat was.

His fingers twitched at your side, his nails scratching your exposed skin and sending tingles down your spine. “Maybe you’re so accustomed to messy and drunken college fucks that your expectations are a bit skewed. You know... Just because you’ve had sex a handful of times doesn’t mean you’re experienced.” 

He chuckled, the low sound rumbling in his chest. You tried to ignore the way the vibrations made goosebumps prickle the surface of your skin, doing your best to keep the most indifferent expression on your face. 

“Did you think that just because we decided to meet up today, you’d get your orgasm handed to you on a silver platter? I don’t think so, babygirl.” He shook his head in amusement. 

Momentarily distracted by the unexpected petname, it took a bit longer than usual for words to form on your tongue.

“Then what—” 

“You’re not getting my cock until I know you want it.”

“I don’t think I would be here if I didn’t,” you shot back, your patience slowly running out. You weren’t known for being the most forbearing person. But then you were suddenly struck down by something your roommate had said—something about how getting a dick compliment was the same thing as Christmas day coming early. Did he really expect you to beg for his dick? That wasn’t so different from the fuckboys you were used to. Really, all guys were so similar. They all wanted to be told they were the best before getting to cum.

Jin must have taken notice of your mildly revolted expression because he gave your ass a squeeze.

“You’re so spoiled...” He chastised, clucking his tongue like he was scolding a child. “You’re too used to fucks that last five minutes on a good day... No wonder you’re so irritable. Hmmm... Do you know what I usually do with little girls like you?”

Little? He couldn’t have been that much older than you... You rolled your eyes only for them to blow open, not expecting the stinging smack on your left asscheek. The force of the swat made you jolt forward, the denim of your shorts rubbing against your clit, sending small zaps of pleasure down your spine.

“Let me guess... You punish them,” you glowered. 

“Punishment?” Jin hums in contemplation, his large hand rubbing the place where he had hit you, soothing away the ache. “That’s not what I would call it.”

He leaned in close so that his breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of your ear, “listen closely. I’m not going to feed you my cock until I see you drooling for it.”

You bit your lower lip, trying to gauge how serious he was being. There was no denying you wanted him to fuck you, but you weren’t sure you could handle whatever he had in store for you. 

Jin’s features softened, seemingly sensing your hesitancy. “It’s okay... Just follow my lead. I’ll make you feel good, okay? You just have to prove that you want this as much as I suspect you do.”

“And how do— I mean, what do...” You stammered, genuinely at a loss for words. The guys you were usually with would have already stripped out of their jeans, but Jin looked like he wasn’t going to move an inch. 

“You’re really tense, babygirl.” Jin massaged your neck, his thumbs rubbing out the tense muscles in soft circles. You felt yourself turn limp and pliant in his lap, head drooping down as he worked out the kinks in your neck. “That’s it, just relax for me. Are you ready to be a good girl now?”

You nodded mutely, letting his soothing voice guide you. Something about his voice made you trust him; you felt confident he wouldn’t let you down. One of his hands tilted your head down so he could slant his plush lips against yours. Immediately, you melted against his mouth, the softness of his lips silently inviting you to press into them. But despite your most fervent efforts, his kisses stayed languid, refusing to match your pace. Frustrated, you moved in closer, molding your body against his, your fingers carding through the hairs at his nape. To your dismay, he pulled back, a satisfied look covering his features.

“See? This is a good start. Keep moving your hips like that.”

With a start, you realized you had been grinding desperate little circles into his lap, your hips searching for much needed friction. 

“J-Jin.” Your words came out as a soft plea, your gaze hooded with desire.

“Do you need a little help?” He smiled at you sweetly, taking pleasure in seeing you slowly fall apart at the seams. 

His hands slid up under the hem of your shorts, squeezing the flesh and urging you to continue the smooth rocking movements. With every undulation, you felt your arousal grow until your entire body was consumed with pure, unbridled need. The slow burn was different from what you were usually used to but not in a bad way. You were slowly losing your mind, your hips moving more and more frantically as you tried to rub the burning ache away.

Jin pinched your ass, effectively stopping your movements before you could get too carried away. The sharp bite went straight to your core, the ball of arousal in the pit of your stomach coiling tightly. You were distinctly aware how your damp panties were stuck to your folds and how wetness dripped down your thigh—proof of your rampant desire Jin had coaxed to life. 

“If we took your shorts off right now and continued, you would make a mess of my jeans, wouldn’t you?” 

Jin slapped your ass again as he waited for you to answer him.  

“Y-yes! I’d make a mess all over you.” Trying to ignore the heat that bloomed on your cheeks, you stuttered out your reply.

“And why is that? Hm?” He remained still, his hands unmoving at your side, patiently awaiting your response. The answer he expected was clear to you but for some reason the words wouldn’t come out—stuck in your throat. 

You gasped, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders. He was bouncing his leg up, making you lurch forward with every jerk of his knee. Every time you slammed back down, the pressure on your clit increased tenfold and your eyes became glassy as pleasure inflamed your insides.

“Oh g-god, fuck, I—”

“Why are you such a mess for my cock, huh? Why do you think you got so worked up easily? I didn’t even have to do much and you’ve become putty in my hands.” He maneuvered your body around so that you brushed up against his covered erection. Soft whines and mewls escaped your lips when he pushed your hips down further against him. It was hard to fathom why he wouldn’t just fuck you already and extinguish the throb between your thighs.

“I don’t know. I’m not— I just...” You inhaled deeply, trying to lift the haze of lust that muddled your thoughts. “Please, can I have your cock now? I’ve been good.”

“Hmm... But that’s not what I want to hear, is it? Do you remember what I told you over text?” You blinked slowly, your mind drawing a blank at his question. How did he expect you to answer such a vague question? “No? Well, let me refresh your memory. I recall you saying that you weren’t cock hungry, but I think we both know that’s not true, is it?”

There was a pause of silence as you tried to weigh the pros and the cons. At the end of the day, he wasn’t wrong. But it was embarrassing to admit it out loud. 

“Fine, I’m cock hungry. I love cock. Can we fuck now?” you huffed out, refusing to meet his smug stare. 

“Hm. Somehow I had imagined it sounding a lot sexier when you said it...” The space between his brows creased as slight disappointment marred his features.

“Life isn’t a porn movie, Jin.”

“We met through an app called Dick n’ Go,” he quipped back, rolling his eyes. “It was worth a shot.” 

With surprising strength, he lifted you up by the waist before setting you down on the bed. Instantly, you missed being pressed up against the hard planes of his body and having his large hands holding you closer to him. The pale blue cotton sheets creased under your weight as you shimmied backwards.

“Clothes off.” 

His tone made you shudder with anticipation. You could tell he was done with foreplay for now; the obvious bulge in his jeans reminding you he was probably equally affected as you. His eyes were dark, hunger etched onto every part of his expression. You scooted back on the bed until your back met the headboard, your hands busy with ridding yourself of your garments. 

Jin, on the other hand, took his sweet time taking off his belt; the metal clink echoed in the silence of the room, shooting shivers down your back. Your want for him was almost palpable—you could feel the desire sit heavy on your tongue. His gaze never left your exposed body, trailing over the slim column of your neck, the curves of your waist and your rosy nipples. You smirked, letting your legs fall open so he could sneak a peak at your glistening core. He swallowed thickly, peeling off his shirt and kicking away his jeans, too aroused to care about composure anymore. Every man had their own limits and you were glad Jin was reaching his if that meant he would finally stop playing around.

As he crawled onto the bed, you expected him to start fucking you right away but instead he dove headfirst between your legs. 

“Jin, what are—” But he kept your legs wide open with a steady grip on your thighs, ignoring your weak cries of protest. He went straight to work, his tongue taking an experimental lick before pressing more insistently against your folds, deftly avoiding your clit. Any disapproval promptly died in your throat, your body succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure he gave you. 

You had been worried he would slobber everywhere and maybe try to lick down lower like your previous experiences, but his tongue movements stayed consistent and languid. He seemed to know exactly how to move, how much you could take. Any coherent thought was wiped out with every skillful swirl and swipe of his tongue against your slick center. Your mewls of pleasure became progressively louder as your body succumbed to his insistent licks. 

Threading your fingers through his soft locks, you attempted to bring his face closer to your core. Need pulsed through your veins as you wriggled around, canting your hips in time with the swipes of his tongue. Eventually, everything within you snapped. The intensity of your orgasm took you by surprise, not expecting the strength of the pleasure as it crashed over you over and over again. Your toes curled and your back arched, every one of your muscles tensing as the orgasm took hold of you. 

Slowly, you came back to reality. Blinking away white spots from your vision, you tensed up again when your eyes landed on Jin’s satisfied expression. He looked absolutely sinful—his hair messy from your tugging, his face wet from your arousal. 

“Good?” Jin asked, licking his lips dry, his chin still shiny from your wetness. 

“Mmh.” You nodded, too fucked out to give a more intelligible reply. Your limbs felt heavy, your tongue too big for your mouth. But there was no denying the glorious satisfaction that settled deep in your core. “Fuck me now?”

“You’re insatiable,” he scolded lightly. It was hard to take him seriously when his eyes gleamed with something close to endearment. Still, despite his words, he wasted no time lining up his erection with your waiting center. 

You took a moment to appreciate how utterly gorgeous he was. When you looked at Jin, you knew you were looking at a man. His forehead shined with a sheen of sweat, his chin still wet from your juices. And his fucking shoulders. You had never really paid attention to other people’s shoulders before, but you somehow knew that no one else’s shoulders could ever compare to Jin’s. 

“Ah, fuck,” he grunted above you, frowning slightly as he eased himself in slowly. “You’re so wet, I’m sliding right in.”

You bit your lip, trying to remember how to breathe. It was hard to accommodate his impressive girth, but the stretch felt so good you couldn’t help but let out a long moan. Jin slowly thrust the rest of his length in, one of his hands gliding over your smooth thigh only to hike it up over his hip. He kept his grip steady before pushing back into you, drawing out another pleased sound from your lips as he reached impossibly deeper within you.

“Look,” he grinned between heavy pants. Wiping the side of your mouth with his thumb, he wiped your spit over your cheek. “I told you. You’re drooling all over yourself because of my cock. Cute.”

If you had been more self-possessed you would have rolled your eyes and shot back a witty remark. But at the moment, you were having a hard enough time remembering your own name... Every fluid roll of his hips into yours rubbed the insides of your walls deliciously, your walls clenching around him as you neared your release. You couldn’t believe you were already so close to crumbling apart again, not when it usually took so much effort to get you off. 

“Are you gonna cum already? Mmh fuck, good girl. Make a mess of the sheets and then I’ll feed you my cock like I promised.” He picked up the pace of his thrusts, intent on making you fall apart one more time. Jin reached down to circle down on your clit with precision, timing the swipes of his fingers with the rhythm of his hips. The rapid flicks against your sensitive spots felt too good; you couldn’t help but grind into his touch for more friction.

You shook and moaned, pleasure striking down upon you without any warning. A cry of ecstasy fell from your lips, your nails scratching down his back as you tried to ground yourself to reality. Jin groaned loudly as your walls clamped down around him, squeezing out his own orgasm. Feeling him cum in spurts inside you made a shudder ripple through you, prolonging your high. You felt like you were floating; your limp and spent body still vibrating from the aftershocks. Every limb was thrumming with pleasure. 

Jin rolled over next to you, his chest rising and falling from the exertion. His hair was matted with sweat, his body cloaked in a thin layer of perspiration. But as you eyed the pink flush on his cheeks, you inwardly admitted that he was probably the most handsome person you had met in your life. 

But not only was he devastatingly handsome, but he had given you the fuck of your life. Instead of the usual fast-paced hammering you had been previously subjected to, Jin had taken his time and built your orgasm brick by brick. It was difficult to accept guys like him actually existed in this world...

“If you want seconds, you just have to ask.” He caught your gaze mid-appraisal, a cocky smirk settling on his lips. 

“You just came.”

“My refractory period is quite short, actually. And I can usually last a lot longer my second time.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, his hand already sliding down to play with your dripping center. You shied away from his touch, still too sensitive.

Well, of course he would have the stamina of a pornstar... This guy was just too good to be true. You half-expected to be woken up from a very lucid dream and be brought back to the cold, harsh reality. Guys like Jin were a rarity. And after tonight, you probably would never meet him again. You would only be left with a distant memory and new standards that would be impossible to meet. 

Regret churned in your gut. What was done was done. You tried to focus on the positive side of things... You did just have a mind-blowing orgasm. That was something you ought to be celebrating and not moping about.

“It’s okay, I can go get you cleaned up right now. We can go for a round two next time.” Your eyelids felt heavy but you smiled at him in thanks when he got up to get a wet towel for you. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep but when you woke up, the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer drapes. Basking under the warm rays of light, you stretched out your sore muscles. 

Last night had been a dream, hadn’t it? The space next to you on the bed was  disappointingly empty and void. Maybe you had just dreamed everything up, after all... Releasing a sigh, you slowly got up, hand reaching over the bedside table to check the time on your phone. Frowning, you rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes, fingers wrapping around a slip of paper after fumbling around blindly. 

It took a moment for your vision to sharpen into focus but when it did, a lazy smile pulled at the corners of your lips. Next to a scrawled phone number was signed off ‘call me for round two xx your favorite five star dick guy’. And, well, who were you to turn down a good fuck?

.

.

#happy birthday mommy wonka;; #accept the seokjin di cc aka the greatest gift of them all #bangtanwriters-net #kkreationsnet #kwriterskollection #bts smut #bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin smut #kpop scenarios #i need to go back and edit the last scene but yay :'')

[seriestrash]

The Story of Us

PROLOGUE || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 

Chapter Twelve: Happy You’re Here

Word Count: 1675

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

After a telling conversation with Jed Sunday evening and a very emotional phone call with her parents, Riley finally passes out in her room. 

The following morning it’s a knock at Riley’s door that wakes her. The brunette stirs in bed. She feels completely drained, quite the contrast from the revitalising sleep she had the night before last.

Jedediah pokes his head through the door. “Time to get up for school, Riley.” He says softly. “I’ll drive you today.” 

“Thank you.” Riley gives him a small but sad smile. 

The older man leaves Riley to get herself ready for school. Riley opens the tall old-fashioned wardrobe and looks at her clothes. On one side there were the things Topanga sent over and on the other were Maya’s old clothes. For the first time in days Riley felt like wearing one of the ripped shirts. After some quiet contemplation Riley changes into an outfit from the side holding her own clothes. 

Once ready, Riley drags herself downstairs, her school backpack slung over one shoulder, her steps sluggish. Riley’s mood pricks up a little when she catches the end of Jed’s phone conversation. 

“... Yes, Topy. Okay. Yes. I’ll tell her. Alright I have to go now or she’ll be late for school... I love you too.”   

“That was mom?” Riley asks once she hits the bottom of the stairs. 

“Yes. She was a bit worried after you called her last night.” Jed nods. 

“Sorry.” Riley shifts awkwardly in place. 

“Don’t be.” Jed says sincerely. “Topanga was just checking in. She says she loves you and will talk this afternoon. Riley gives him a small nod and they head to school.

During the car ride to school with Jed, Riley’s initial exhaustion - which spurred from how emotionally draining the previous evening was - quickly turned into an empty feeling. Something Riley could only describe as numb. Like life was being lived around her. A disconnect to her immediate reality. 

The numbness stuck with Riley all day. The only release she had from her own thoughts came at lunch when Mabel drags Riley outside to the secluded bench where she goes on to, very excitedly, share details of her walk home with Thomas Saturday evening and their first date that followed. 

Riley is happy for her friend and does get caught up in the story but once the bell rings signalling the end of lunch, she’s forced back into the state of shock she’d been in all morning. 

Finally, the end of the school day arrives. The New Yorker is extra quiet on the bus, just like how she’d been all day. An anxious Lucas sits one seat behind her and Mabel sits in the seat in front. 

Once at her stop, Riley exits first. Her strides are a little quicker than usual as she wanted to get back to Jed as soon as possible. 

“Riley, are we okay?” Lucas fastens his pace in attempt to keep up with the brunette as she marches down the street.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Riley keeps her gaze focused on the road ahead.

“You’ve been acting strange all day.” Lucas says.

“Would you like me to apologise for being weird?” Riley almost snaps.

“No…” Lucas frowns. Riley could be confusing at times, usually he felt he had a pretty good read on her but this was another level. “You didn’t show up to see Zay off this morning-“

“I’ll see Zay when I go back to New York.” Riley is blunt. “Because I will be going home. Probably very soon.”

“Okay..” Lucas is struggling to keep up with Riley as she walks with purpose ahead of him. “And you didn’t sit with us at lunch today.”

“I sat with Mabel.” Riley sates. “She was telling me about Thomas. She couldn’t do that in front of him.”

“Yeah that makes sense.” Lucas nods. “I kinda wanted to talk to you about how we left things yesterday.” 

“Lucas, I’m sorry but...” Riley trails off when she spots someone in the distance sitting on the porch steps of Jed’s house. 

“Who's that?” Lucas followed her line of sight. 

“That’s my little brother.” Riley’s face lights up. The backpack that she has slung over one shoulder slips off and hits the road as Riley quite literally sprints towards Jed’s house. Once Auggie spots his sister he jumps up too and they meet by the mailbox where they slam together in a hug. Riley loves moments like these when Auggie wasn’t too cool to love his big sister. 

“Auggie!” Riley squeezes him tightly. 

“I missed you.” Auggie says mid embrace. 

“I miss you too, Augs.” Riley gives him another quick squeeze before pulling away to look at him. “Mom and dad?” 

“They’re inside.” Auggie grins. 

Riley looks towards the house and through the window she sees her mom and dad speaking to each other. As if she sensed her, Topanga turns towards Riley, they lock gazes and both wear sheepish smiles. 

Riley breaks her stare once Lucas finally reaches the mailbox, he has Riley’s fallen pack in hand. 

“Thank you.” Riley takes it off him with a quiet giggle.  

“No problem.” Lucas half smiles. 

Auggie clears his throat. Riley lets out a little chuckle. “Auggie this is Lucas, he lives next door. Lucas, this is Auggie my not so little brother.” Riley ruffles his hair. 

“It’s barely been a month, don’t start crying about how much I’ve grown.” His tone heavily suggests sarcasm. ‘Cool’ Auggie was definitely back. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Riley rolls her eyes with a smile. She even missed their bickering. 

“I should probably let you get inside.” Lucas says. 

“Okay.” Riley nods slightly. Her mood completely different to that of two minutes ago. “I’m sorry for being weird today... and yesterday... We can talk soon.” 

“Hey, I never wanted you to apologise for being weird.” Lucas takes a few backwards steps. “But I won’t say no tho that talk.” With that he turns on the heels of his boots and walks towards his house. 

“When did you get here?” Riley turns her attention back to Auggie. 

“A couple hours ago. We left home this morning.” 

“Do you know what’s going on?” Riley’s mood deflates a little. 

“Mom and dad explained last night.” Auggie nods. 

“I’m happy you’re here.” Riley wears a small smile. 

The two make their way up to the porch. Riley grows nervous as her hand hovers above the handle. Feeling silly, she shakes her head, opens the door and enters Jed’s home. Within seconds she’s engulfed in a three way hug with both her parents. Riley sinks into the comfortable familiarity that is the embrace. 

Once the warm family reunion is out of the way, Riley is still left with the excited rush feeling she’s had since she spotted Auggie out on the street. 

“How long are you here for?” Riley asks. 

“For the time being, indefinitely.” Topanga is the one to answer. Riley knew exactly what that meant. 

“What about work and school for Auggie?” Riley questions. 

“Your mother and I have plenty of holiday time and I can homeschool Auggie for now.” Cory speaks next.

“You can stay in class or study here with your father too.” Topanga adds. 

“I’m really happy you’re here.” Riley smiles genuinely. 

Throughout the rest of the evening there is still a slight off feeling lingering in the air but overall it was pleasant. Riley notices how happy Jed seems to have his daughter present and how interested he was in acquainting himself with Auggie.  Once everything settles down, Riley excuses herself from the dinner table and heads upstairs for a moment. Riley sits cross-legged with her back against the balcony doors. It’s only a few short moments before Topanga enters the room too. 

“Bay window?” She asks with a soft smile. Riley nods. “May I join you?” Another nod from Riley and Topanga is joining her on the floor.   

Topanga is smiling, her grin softens as she broaches the sensitive subject. “How are you, honey?” 

“I’m okay. I have to be, right?” Riley’s smile is sad. 

“Hon, you’re just getting to know your grandfather and now you have to deal with the fact that he’s sick.” Topanga states. “It’s fine to be upset about that.” 

Riley does her best not to cry. “What’s going to happen now?” 

“Tomorrow your father and I are going to go to some appointments with Jed and we’ll see from there.” 

“Does grandma know?” Riley asks. 

“Yes, we spoke to your grandma and grandpa before our flight this morning.” Topanga nods. 

“No, I meant your mom.” Riley clarifies. 

“Oh.” Topanga is slightly shocked. “No, I haven't spoken to her about it...” 

“Are you going to tell her?” Riley questions. 

“That’s a little complicated, Riley. My parents have been divorced for years.” Topanga is more awkward than usual. “It might be hard for you to understand..”

“That’s what I’ve spent three weeks here trying to do. Understand. Where I came from, why I’m here and it’s the same answer for both. Love.” Riley says. “Did you know this is where grandpa met grandma?” 

“I did.” Topanga nods softly, quietly in awe of how mature her daughter seems. 

“Then you know he moved back to a place that reminds him of the time they fell in love.” Riley says. 

“Yes but that was a long time ago, Riley.” Topanga frowns. 

“If you and dad were to ever split up, even on the worst of terms, I can’t imagine you not wanting to know if dad was sick.” Riley holds her mothers gaze. 

“Okay.” Topanga nods knowing her daughter is right. “I’ll speak to her.” 

Riley cuddles into her mothers side. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“So that boy this afternoon, was that Lucas?” Topanga asks a devilish tone in her voice. “The boy next-door you talk about on the phone?”

“Yep.” Riley nods into her mothers side.

“Now I know why you warmed up to this place so quickly.” Topanga shares a knowing laugh.

“Mom.” Riley chuckles nervously.

End Notes: Sorry this chapter is so short but at least you didn’t have to wait two weeks for it hahah ! The story has only a few more chapters left! Let me know how you’re liking it so far xxx

#rucas #rucas au #rucas fic #the story of us