#hes changed his entire schedule for the 30 seconds he gets to spend in your presence and he cant even say hi the konig pov would go crazy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sneezefiction · 3 years

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of night owls & early birds

Kuroo x Reader

desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”

a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.

wc: 3.6k

--- You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.

And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.

You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all.

After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.

Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.

One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.

There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.

You also may have been bribed.

To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.

But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.

You grimace.

It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.

Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.

Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut.

It stings.

You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.

And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)

Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.

If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.

And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing.

Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.

But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak.

As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.

Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal.

Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.

More soft steps fall just outside of your room.

Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.

You begin planning for your funeral.

However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.

Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.

Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.

As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:

The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.

And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.

So you take a breath and steel yourself.

“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.

It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.

There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”

You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.

“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.

The door cracks open.

That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.

Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.

Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.

At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.

“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.

Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this.

“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”

“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”

You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.

Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.

Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room.

The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.

He makes himself comfortable.

This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.

Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.

In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.

But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.

“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”

“-Classes.” He finishes for you.

You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.

“I get it.”

And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.

“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”

Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.

But at least Kuroo sounds resolute.

He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.

And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.

But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.

“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.

He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?

It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.

But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.

“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.

There it is. Finally out in the open.

And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.

He’s been there.

Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.

It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.

But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.

“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”

You blink.

Yeah, you suppose it is.

Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.

Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.

Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.

“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”

“Okay...”

“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”

Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.

“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”

That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.

He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.

“You mean it?” You half-whisper.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.

One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.

Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.

He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.

“It’s your bed.”

Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.

You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.

And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.

He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.

You break the silence.

“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.

You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”

You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.

“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.

“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.

You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.

He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.

“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.

“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.

You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”

He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”

“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.

He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.

“A small part.”

“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.

He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”

His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.

And you go quiet.

You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.

And words are failing you.

It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.

Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.

At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.

Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.

So you throw caution to the wind.

“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”

His eyes snap to yours.

This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.

“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.

Your heart pounds.

“I really like you.” You clarify.

It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.

But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.

“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.

You no longer trust yourself with words.

Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.

You lift your head.

His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.

He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.

You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.

“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.

Of course he did, wait what?

“But the thing is…”

Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-

“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”

You start planning your own funeral again.

However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.

“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer.

You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.

Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.

It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.

“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.

If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.

It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...

But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.

“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.

He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.

And that’s because you are.

So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?

Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.

Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.

And he’s in your face.

Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.

Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.

Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance.

Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.

Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.

But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”

And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.”

You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.

“You-”

He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.

“-need to get some good rest.”

He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.

You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.

How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?

---

extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.

and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.

also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

Body Language

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: The most adorable fluff I have ever written with some first time sex (the smut in here is so vanilla and soft and terrible but I don’t even care at this point lol)

Word Count: 14.5K

Summary: You and your boyfriend Mark had plans to go out on a date until the two of you find out that it is expected to rain for the rest of the night. What starts off as a romantic night in turns in to finally becoming one with the love of your life.

Warnings: Oral (male and female receiving), fingering, breast play

A/N: Hey guys! If I am being completely honest, this is one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written because Mark is such a soft, fluffy and doting boyfriend in here (and I feel with my entire ass that he is like this in real life) and I don’t know but I just find it so cute when boyfriends are considerate of their partner’s desires to wait for sex (it’s rare but if a man really loves you he will wait for however long you need him to)(it’s even more rare when he puts your pleasure before his own but there are men out there and I still have yet to find one like that but one day)(@God...When?) by the way, this is based on the song “Teach me how to love” by Shawn Mendes, I highly recommend that you listen to the song before or while reading this so it makes more sense. Happy reading!

Ooh, your body's like an ocean I'm devoted To explore you Ooh, what do you desire? I'm inspired I'll do it for you

Won't you draw a map for me? Laced with strawberries And I'll get on my knees Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

“Thank you for tuning in to Good Evening Los Angeles. Make sure to stay indoors tonight for there is a 80% chance of rainfall with winds up to 25 miles per hour. We’re also expecting a thunderstorm on Wednesday with winds between 30 to 35 miles per hour—“

Mark released an exasperated sigh once he heard the weather forecast and was quick to change the channel in disappointment.

“Well, I guess there goes our plans for tonight. We haven’t gone out on a date in almost an entire month because we’re both so busy, I really wanted to take you to that new sushi restaurant but I guess it’s just going to have to wait.”

You giggled softly at his now upset demeanor and took this time to snuggle up closer to his body if it was even physically possible. Your bodies were practically glued together to the point where you could feel his heart beat against your chest.

His arms were wrapped protectively around your waist as he was propped up against his headboard with you lying on top of him, legs on either side of his lap—hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Right after you returned home from work a little over two hours ago, Mark suggested that you took a quick nap to regain some energy before you both went out to dinner later that night.

For the last week and a half, he’s been planning to take you out on a date and claimed that there was something he had to tell you. Being the impatient person that you were on top of overthinking quite often, you begged him to confess what was weighing heavy on his mind, but he would always try to change the subject and told you not to worry about it.

As much as you were dying to know what he was hiding from you, you knew Mark like the back of your hand—if it was something bad, he would have told you already so you just had to accept that he was going to tell you on his own time; even if it meant having to wait another week until the both of you could go out on a date again.

He was quick to give you one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants to change in to—this was a regular occurrence. For the last six months of your relationship, the two of you spent quite a lot of time at each other’s places. A lot of your stuff was scattered throughout his apartment; he purchased both your shampoo and conditioner, body wash, a toothbrush and some other beauty products that were currently sitting on the bathroom counter—your side to be exact.

There were a few of your clothes in his closet, but you never got around to using them. Whenever you would sleep over, he’d lend you some of his clothes because he claimed almost every item he owned looked amazing on you. You had a few of your work sandals and flats on his shoe rack, some of your vitamins and medication on his kitchen counter and he even purchased Disney+ because you were such a fan of Disney movies.

Your place mirrored his; he had set up an Xbox in your living room to play with when he did come over, he had some of his clothes in your closet and in your drawers; some that he left there and some you would secretly take over time. He left a few of his rings and a necklace his parents gave to him on your dresser and he’d even bring his briefcase over if he had plans on staying the night.

Sometimes, your mutual friends would hint towards the two of you moving in together since technically, you already did. However, Mark never really said anything about it and you just assumed that he believed it was still too early in your relationship to move in together.

You thought about it every now and then; you wouldn’t mind going to bed wrapped tightly in his warm, protective embrace and getting to wake up next to him in all his handsome glory every single day. Any moment spent with your boyfriend made you always feel so happy; Mark had to be one of the best things in your life at the moment.

Your heart craved his presence all the time—even when the two of you had a small argument or disagreement which never happened all too often. Whenever the two of you couldn’t hang out and spend time together—if your schedules collided or if either of you went home to visit your families, your chest would always feel so empty.

Mark Tuan is where you held your heart; the both of you might not have been together for all that long just yet, but you felt and believed wholeheartedly that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You could only hope he felt the same way about you because you honestly didn’t know what you would do if you were to lose him. Mark in more or less words was your soulmate—your best friend.

From the time you were a little girl, you were such a hopeless romantic. You were in love with the idea of love and being in love and it wasn’t until Mark came in to your life did you realize how beautiful the concept of love really was. He’s opened your eyes to so many different things; he’s brought in so much life and color in to your dull and seemingly black and white world. You placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth—trying to take his mind off of the unfortunate weather situation and thankfully, it worked.

He smiled against your lips, humming gently and deepening the kiss as he brought his fingers in to your shirt and grazed them just above your belly button.

“That’s fine baby, we can just stay in tonight. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really feel like getting ready or dressing up. I just want to be lazy. We can order some take out and watch another movie if that’s okay with you.”

He was silent for a few seconds, as if he was considering your suggestion to follow what the weather reporter said and stay inside for the night. He nodded in agreement before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“That sounds like a plan. I don’t care where we are or what we end up doing, I just want to be with you.” You playfully flicked his forehead and giggled at his look of confusion.

“You’re such a cheeseball Mark. Don’t say things like that, you don’t understand what your words do to my heart. What do you feel like eating tonight?”

You repositioned your body and sat right on top of his lap so that he could look at your phone while you scrolled through the many take out options that California had to offer. He placed his chin on your shoulder; watching as you searched up restaurants and fast food joints near his apartment. Feeling his breath against your neck sent a tingling sensation to your chest; it wasn’t like you weren’t used to the proximity.

You and Mark clung to one another like sloths. If you were cooking, washing the dishes or doing laundry, he’d always take his place behind you and allowed you to do your thing, but he had to be holding you at all times. He confessed that he just loved the feeling of having you near; your presence always calmed him down and made him feel at ease.

However, he seemed to be quite touchy tonight in particular, not that you were complaining. His hands were lingering in foreign places; the two of you had yet to become one in that sense. Since Mark was your first genuine boyfriend, you had yet to give yourself to anyone.

It wasn’t as though you were waiting for marriage or anything, but you were the type of person who believed that sex was a spiritual, sensual and memorable experience as much as it was sexual. You wanted to save your virginity for someone you knew would love you and cherish you for your entire being; not just your body.

Sex to some people was a way to receive pleasure and to soothe their carnal urges—but you believed that it was so much more than reaching an orgasm. You wanted to trust the person you decided to give your body to and you were more than grateful that Mark was so patient, considerate and understanding of your feelings.

Not once did he ever ask you to go that far with him; he made it known that he wanted to take your relationship at the pace that you were most comfortable with. Although you were sure it had to be hard for him to stay abstinent, especially because it was scientifically proven that men had their needs and desired sex more than women did; he continued to be such a gentleman and allowed you to determine when you were ready to give yourself to him.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you were in love with your boyfriend; actually, you noticed that your feelings for Mark went further than just infatuation around the beginning of the second month. The two of you had yet to say that four letter word though; it almost slipped from your lips a couple of times, but you were afraid of rejection if you were to tell him only to find out that he didn’t reciprocate your fame feelings.

As the days went by, you were soon losing your resolve. Seeing him shirtless almost every day, kissing him passionately and making out with him fervently, having him drag his fingers along your bare skin—each and every touch drove you closer to your end. You knew you’d have to have him one of these days; and with the way you’d feel him harden up against your butt or your thigh as the two of you would cuddle or the way his jaw would drop and clench when he’d see you in a body hugging dress or even in one of his baggy shirts, you knew he was just as on the brink of insanity as you were.

“Hmm, pizza sounds good—“

“We always get pizza—“

“Well, that’s because I love pizza. Almost as much as I love y—yogurt. Uh—fine, we can get whatever it is that you want. How about you decide what we eat and I’ll pick out a movie for us?”

You could feel your heart rate increase immensely as you heard the l word fall from his lips—but your stomach sank when he caught himself. Was he going to finally confess what you’ve been dreaming of him to say since the day you realized you felt that way toward him? Did he really love yogurt? Or did he catch himself about to say the only thing that the two of you have been prolonging on getting around to and try to redirect the entire conversation so that maybe you could forget about it?

Luckily you weren’t facing him or else he’d be able to see the frown that quickly rose on your face. You continued to look at different menus for a few more minutes as he pulled up Netflix and began to scan through the many different shows and movies there were.

“Oooh, what about Thai food? It’s been a while since we’ve had pad Thai. We can share multiple entrees if you want?” You felt him hum against your shoulder blade and you took that as a yes before calling in your order.

“Should we wait for the food before putting on a movie? Or shall we watch a tv show for now and just wait for it to arrive?”

“I’m fine with waiting, there’s a new episode of buzzfeed unsolved that I’ve been wanting to watch. Is that okay with you?” He placed a kiss on the back of your neck and began to graze both of his thumbs on your hip bones.

“I like the sound of that. I’m glad you waited for me—you always have a habit of being impatient and watching without me—ow, what was that for? You know it’s true y/n. You finished an entire season of The Office while I was in Taiwan.”

He rubbed the left side of his abdomen where you had hit him and playfully pinched your cheek. Your mind wandered back to that day three months ago; his entire family went to China in order to attend his cousin’s wedding and it was the first time the two of you went over a week without seeing each other physically. He called you whenever he had the chance and tried to send you as many photos of his trip as the terrible service in Taiwan allowed him to.

In order to take your mind off of his absence, you sneakily watched some episodes of your favorite show even after promising to wait for him to come back. You tried to watch other series, but nothing really entertained you like the cast of the office did. Mark was pretty upset when he found out—you forgot that Netflix showed you where you last left off and it was on an episode he had yet to see.

Hell, he had multiple episodes to finish of the previous season to even start on the one you currently were watching. He gave you the silent treatment for two days; although, he still continued to take care of you silently—but he willingly gave in on the third day after you cooked him some of his favorite meals to get him to forgive you. He also claimed that he couldn’t stay mad at you for much longer and he could tell you learned your lesson by how apologetic you were in order to get him to start talking to you again.

From that day on, he made you promise him that you wouldn’t watch anything without him and the entire memory made you snicker. Mark was twenty-seven years old, yet he still acted like a child. Even his laugh was that of a little kid; you didn’t think it was possible for a man his age to have such an adorable, contagious and high pitched laugh that never failed to send warmth to your cheeks every time you were the cause of it.

His laughter and child-like mindset were only two of the many things you appreciated about your boyfriend. He was like a breath of fresh air—he never took life too seriously as most of the people around you did. He kept you sane in a world where everyone was seemingly crazy because of how hectic the real world could get. Both his and your laughter filled the room as Steve Carrell’s character was freaking out about something and soon, there was a knock at the door which you assumed was the delivery guy.

“I’ll be right back babe.”

He gently lifted you off of his lap in order for him to get up and stole a chaste kiss from your lips while making his way to the front door. You decided to grab some napkins and chopsticks from the kitchen and waited for him to head back to his room.

“Shit, how much did we order, this bag is heavy as hell.”

You couldn’t help but stifle back a laugh and led the way back to his room. He placed the food down on the bed and you began to distribute food on both your plates—all the while thanking him for buying the food. To say Mark was generous was an understatement.

He loved buying things for you no matter how many times you’d tell him to save his money for things he’d actually need. Sometimes, the two of you would fight over who was going to pay; most of the time, he would give his card—whether it was at a restaurant, while you’d go grocery shopping together; if you went to watch a movie or went to the arcade, if you went shopping for new clothes or just random trinkets he’d see that he thought you’d like, he’d purchase it in a heartbeat.

Mark just really enjoyed seeing a smile on your face and he would do whatever he could just to make you happy. You tried to tell him time and time again that you weren’t a materialistic person, truthfully—he could write you a heartfelt letter or give you a ring pop and you would probably cry. But he’d never listen and you just got used to his generosity over time; it just showed you how much you meant to him and knowing that alone did wonders to your heart.

Even if you had given him his own share of what you ordered, he’d playfully steal some food off of your plate just to rile you up. Mark was well aware of how protective you could be when it came to your food. There were times when you felt like sharing with him, but that was only if you both got different meals and he wanted to try yours or if you so happened to be eating and felt bad that he didn’t have any food.

He did feed you to make up for his many bits of teasing and you could feel your heart flutter every time he brought the chopstick full of noodles up to your mouth. When you were both done and full beyond belief, he took the empty bag and went to go throw it away while you prepared the area for you to both get comfortable in.

Once he was finished putting away the left overs and taking out the trash, he made a beeline to where you were and flung himself on top of you; earning himself a loud groan and a punch to the shoulder. He was quick to pull you back in to the previous position; allowing you to sit in between his legs while he intertwined one of your hands with his and placed his free one on top of your lap.

“I was thinking we could watch that Ted Bundy movie since you were interested about his case back when they did an unsolved mystery about it.”

Mark was always great at observing people; since he was more on the introverted and soft spoken side, he was more of a listener than he was a talker. For the last month, you’ve taken an interest in murder mysteries and solving crimes.

You had the adorable tendency to repeatedly tell Mark your theories or who you suspected the killer was while you watched these shows and your excitement never failed to bring your boyfriend so much satisfaction himself. For some reason, you were beginning to feel warmth in your chest—it wasn’t the kind that you’d always seem to get whenever Mark would compliment you or did something to make your heart flutter. This was a feeling you couldn’t fathom in to words—it was one you weren’t familiar with, but it did feel good.

Really good.

Maybe it was just because hearing him point out such a small detail that he remembered set it in stone that he really did care about you. God, what did you do to deserve such a wonderful human being to call your boyfriend? What war did you lead in your past life to be the lucky girl who was able to love Mark Tuan? For the first hour of the movie, you found yourself unable to take your eyes off of the screen—it was just so addicting.

Not only was the acting really good from both the main characters, but the storyline and the suspense was too interesting to pull your attention away from. Mark had to cover your mouth with his hand because you were unable to stop talking about how stupid the justice system were to believe Ted’s lies in the first place and that if you were a detective at the time, you would have seen through his act from the beginning.

“He’s not even that good looking, why would these girls fall for him?”

He snickered against your neck at your enthusiasm; you would always be very verbal when it came to movies like this. Movies where you would put yourself in the shoes of one of the characters and explain in to detail to your boyfriend how you would have went about the entire situation.

Unfortunately, you failed to notice the warning at the beginning; you were too excited with the idea of how the director and all the screenwriters came up with the movie in it’s entirety to read that there was explicit sexual content in the film. When Zac Efron and one of his love interests began to have sex up against a vending machine, you were unprepared to say the least for what was coming.

The female’s moans were extremely loud and Zac’s thrusts were rough; the two of them were practically shaking the vending machine and you were feeling flustered at the sight and the noise. Especially because you were watching such a graphic scene with your boyfriend who you had yet to have sexual intercourse with. If you and Mark were to have had sex already, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt so awkward watching other people having sex. But because you had yet to participate in that activity, it just felt so weird.

Mark began to tense up against your body and before you knew it, there was something hard pressing up against your ass. You weren’t stupid, you could tell that this scene was having an effect on your boyfriend as much as it was on you. There was a tingling sensation between your thighs; you’ve felt it a couple of times before, but now that you were watching a sex scene and found yourself growing hot at every thrust and curse of how good it felt, you had a huge feeling you were turned on—but it wasn’t because of the two people fucking, it’s because of the beautiful boy whose embrace you were currently in.

To your dismay, the scene seemed as if it was going on for hours—it’s as though you were now watching a porno and you honestly didn’t know how to feel about it. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by his now clammy hands and the way he was slowly retracting himself away from you, that Mark was having a hard time watching—especially because he probably wanted to be doing the same thing they were and you couldn’t blame him, you wanted it too.

“Babe, I um—I’ll be right back. I have to uh—use the bathroom—y/n, what are you—holy shit—“

Whether it was because you were exceedingly horny at this point and wanted to give in to finally experience what so many people referred to as their favorite past times, or because seeing the woman on screen beg Zac to fuck her harder made you want to feel exactly what it was that drove her to the point of cursing and begging for him to go faster. You also wanted to use this as your way to nonverbally confess your love to him.

You were a coward; there was no way you’d be able to tell him that four letter word without knowing that he felt the same exact way, so you were going to wait for as long as you had to. Surprising both yourself and your boyfriend, you brought your hands down to his clothed erection and began to palm him through his sweats.

He was hard as a rock; just feeling him made your breath hitch. You had no idea what you were doing, this was another reason why you’ve tried so long to prolong having sex with him; you knew he had previous girlfriends and although he never talked much about that part of his past life, you were sure he must have had a few one night stands and you were afraid that you wouldn’t be able to give him the pleasure he desired—the pleasure he deserved.

However, watching his head tilt back as you shoved your hand in to his pants in order to actually feel him without the restraints of his clothing, you had a huge feeling you were doing something right.

“B—babe, baby—fuck, just like that y/n. That feels so good. Ahhh—“

You pulled down his sweats to give yourself better access to his lower region and did him a favor by pulling him out of his briefs. The sight of his cock standing right at attention; the tip red and leaking precum made your mouth water. You’ve never watched porn before and the closest you got to seeing Mark naked was when he’d come outside in just a towel right after he would take a shower—so this was the first time you’ve ever seen a penis. Well, other than what your high school health teacher showed in class.

From what your friends would tell you, penises were ugly. But then again, genitalia in general was not the prettiest sight. Maybe you were being biased because he was your boyfriend, but his cock was very pretty. Was that even possible? You had no clue at all, but what you did know was that you wanted to feel him inside of your mouth and inside of your pussy.

“Mark.”

He was quick to look down at you and with the way he was gazing at you; with so much adoration, yet lust in his eyes, you knew that tonight was going to be the night you gave yourself to him. You couldn’t wait anymore; you needed him.

“Yeah?”

You took in a deep breath; suddenly nerves began to build up and you had a hard time understanding why, but you found yourself fondling his balls against the thin cotton material.

“I’m ready. I want you. I want all of you Mark. I need you—I trust you. I’m all yours if you’ll have me baby.”

He was at a loss for words; were you really telling him that you wanted to finally have sex with him? You giggled softly at his blank expression; he must have had been processing what you just told him, but when it finally registered in his mind, you were being pulled up to his level and he smashed your lips together.

The kiss was rough; he was allowing his hormones to act for him and you were extremely thankful for it. In the past, the two of you had many passionate make out sessions which usually ended with Mark giving you an excuse as to why he had to leave early or why he took so long in the bathroom. Now, it all made sense.

“Shit, are you sure baby? Fuck—I’m so excited, please excuse my swearing but fuck—I promise you, I’m going to take such good care of you okay? You don’t understand how long I’ve been dreaming about this day. Your body—God spent a lot of time creating you. I lose my damn mind every single day watching you walk out in these tight little outfits and in my clothes and it takes every single bone in my body not to just say fuck it and have my way with you. You’re so fucking beautiful y/n, every single thing about you is mesmerizing. You’re one of the seven wonders of the world—I would stare at you all day if time allowed me to. Everything about you—your personality, your strength, your courage, your passion and dedication to every single activity and job you put your heart and mind in to—you’re simply perfect baby and I can’t wait to show you exactly what you mean to me. I’m going to warn you right now, I’m not a mind reader unfortunately, so I can’t tell what you’re thinking. I’m going to need you to tell me what feels good, what hurts, what feels uncomfortable, what you like—just be vocal okay baby? I want your experience to be mind blowing. I want this night to be one you will remember for a very long time.”

You bit your lip at his words—you knew you were making the right decision in allowing Mark to be the person to take your innocence away. He already was the rightful owner of your heart, so you saw no harm in giving him the entirety of your being.

There was nobody else in the entire world that you saw yourself with—Mark was it for you. You came to the decision months ago that you wanted Mark to be the first person you experienced going all the way with and you could only hope and pray he’d be the last and only person.

He pulled you on to his lap and reconnected his lips with yours—grinding your clothed core against his naked sex. His fingers were squeezing all but gently on your lower waist as he guided your grinding—a breathy moan left his lips practically every ten seconds. If you thought hearing your boyfriend laugh was your favorite sound in the entire world, his moans and growls against your jaw had to be pretty high on that list also.

“Mark—babe—I want to suck you off.” He quickly pulled his lips away from yours and his eyes widened in shock at your sudden confession.

“W—what—you want to—you want to suck me off—who are you and what did you do to my sweet, innocent girl y/n? Where did you get such a potty mouth babe?”

“I don’t know, seeing your cock did things to me. You’re huge—is that even going to fit in either of my holes?”

Mark tried to cover up his mouth to prevent himself from laughing more than he should, but you were just so adorably naïve that he couldn’t help himself. You didn’t know what the average size; length and width of a penis was, but Mark had to be around 6.5 to 7 inches in length and his girth was thick. You looked at him and pouted slightly; you were only ruining the night the longer you continued to indirectly hint towards your lack of experience. What if he was laughing because he already knew you’d have no idea what you’d be doing if you did end up blowing him off.

Apparently receiving head was something a lot of guys enjoyed most about sexual intercourse—so you wanted to do that for Mark as your way of thanking him for being such a perfect boyfriend. For never failing to supply you with everything that you need, for making you laugh on the days that you didn’t think you were able to do anything but cry, for picking you up and dropping you off to work when he had the time, for comforting you when you had a rough day by preparing you a bath and making you a cup of tea—you just wanted him to know that you were aware and extremely appreciative of his many sacrifices, how he was so quick to tend to your needs and how he’d drop everything to be by your side.

He didn’t have to say it; you knew deep in your heart that Mark loved you just by his doting actions. But you were hoping that maybe one day, he’d finally say those three words you’ve been dying to hear from the first time he kissed you.

“Yes, it will fit. How the hell are you so cute when asking to give me head? You can’t be real—fuck, hearing you ask to suck my dick is something I’ll never get used to but shit—I think I could come just by hearing you talk dirty. You’re so fucking sexy—please—blow me baby.”

You stole one more sweet kiss from his soft lips and got down on your knees; you were level with his cock and you wrapped your hand around his length, earning yourself a breathy sigh.

“I um—I don’t know what I’m doing, so do you think you could guide me?” He gave you an adoring smile while gathering all your hair and putting it in to a makeshift ponytail.

“You’re going to want to lubricate me just a little bit so it’ll be easier for you to take me in your mouth—so you can either spit on me or lick the sides of my dick and—holy—s—shit—just like that—oh—“

You didn’t hesitate to follow his directions; gripping his cock at the base, you licked long stripes up and down; making sure to press your tongue down harder on his veins. You then brought one of his balls inside of your mouth; sucking and nibbling on it for a few seconds before switching over to the other side.

After showing some love to both of his balls for around a little over a minute, you circled your tongue around the tip of his dick and flicked at his slit just to see what would get a rise out of him for future reference. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but you gave him no chance to emit any kind of speech before you finally wrapped your mouth around him. You wished you could have recorded his reaction in that moment; his moan went straight to your core.

His eyelashes fluttered as he shut his eyes and threw his head back—you didn’t know what to think about his reaction so far, but when he brought his hands down to your hair and tugged on it all but gently, you had a feeling you must have been doing something right. You continued your movements but increased your speed—bobbing your mouth up and down on his shaft as quickly as you could. Since he was well endowed, you tried your best to swallow as much of him that your throat would allow; the tip of his cock met your vulva with every thrust.

Tears began to build up at your eyes and you weren’t going to lie, it was painful. You were starting to choke and gag as he sank deeper inside of your throat. However, hearing his moans echo throughout the room as multiple curses fell from his mouth only led you to desire going faster—taking him completely down your throat and pumping whatever you couldn’t fit in to your mouth with your hand.

“Shit—baby, that feels so fucking good I can’t even—your mouth is so—feels amazing—“

You hummed softly at his compliment against his girth—pulling away in order to smile up at him but ultimately shoving him back inside of you. It was unexpected; you didn’t think you could benefit from giving head, but you were having just as much fun blowing your boyfriend as he was adamantly was being on the receiving end.

Something about seeing him writhing at your ministrations and hearing him praise you sent warmth straight to your folds. You also really enjoyed having his cocked stuffed in to your mouth; something about it made you feel confident; sexy even and you weren’t one to get all that cocky, but you were getting off on your boyfriend’s many praises of what a good girl you were. All you wanted was to please your boyfriend, you didn’t care whether or not you were doing it right—but hearing him whine and beg you to suck him harder brought you just as much pleasure.

“Y/n—can I—do you think I could fuck your face? Would that be okay or is that too much? You can be honest with me baby, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this—I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to—“

“Do whatever it is that you want with me, I can take it Mark. I want to take care of you too. Tonight is as much about you as it is about me. I want to learn how to please you; I want to show you just how much you mean to me, so do your worst babe. Fuck, I love sucking your dick Mark. It feels so fucking good.”

He whimpered at your explicit words; yet he was quick to shove his cock back inside of your mouth—making sure you were prepared for him before he began roughly pumping in and out of your wet cavern. He tugged on your ponytail ever so gently and pushed you further down his length to the point where your teeth were grazing his balls. You honestly didn’t even think you were capable to practically swallow him whole, but you could feel his tip deep in the back of your throat.

That must have been a good thing; your friends always made comments about how they couldn’t fit even half of their partner’s cock in their mouths and apparently, guys enjoyed it when girls could deepthroat. The naughty and sinful noises falling repeatedly from Mark’s lips made it obvious that he was having the time of his life.

“Such a good, good girl. You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth. God, if only you could see yourself right now. You look so fucking sexy and you’re taking me so well. Your mouth was made to suck my cock y/n.”

You brought both your hands up to his ass and playfully squeezed his cheeks, earning you the most adorable gasp from your boyfriend. After this experience, you were well aware that you’d need to blow him at least every other day in order to get your own fill. If he already felt wonderful against your tongue, your mouth started to water at the thought of how he’d feel in between your pussy.

“Baby—I’m close—I’m going to—I—mmm—“

Before you could even process his stuttering, his creamy, warm liquid filled up the entirety of your mouth. You sucked him dry of all his cum—making sure to lap up any left over substance from off of your lips. Absentmindedly, you brought your thumb up to his head and grazed your nail around his tip, flicking at his slit playfully. He lightly tugged on your hair and the noise he released from the back of his throat—a mixture of a moan and a whine caused the coil deep inside of your core to tighten.

After a few more long licks against his girth, you made your way back up to him and stole a sweet kiss from his lips. His movements were quick; he pulled you with him back on to the bed and flipped over your bodies so that he was on top of you.

“What in the hell was that y/n? There is no way that could have been your first time—you were—holy shit I can’t even explain how incredible that felt and how amazing you are I’m honestly speechless. Damn baby, you’re a professional; that was the best head I’ve ever been given. Your tongue—God, you were made to suck my cock baby. Thank you—I’ll do whatever it is you ask of me—anything baby. Shit. Give me a moment will you?”

He began to take in deep breaths, his chest heaved right above yours. You couldn’t hold back; you released a snarky giggle at the way he was acting like he just finished a marathon. He had to be overreacting; there was no way you blew him as well as he claimed that you did.

All you did was sink your mouth on his cock and bobbed your head along his hardened length—going by your instincts and what you believed would drive him crazy. You did suck and nibble on his tip in particular; he seemed to react the most when you focused on that particular area of his penis. It was obvious he was sensitive there, and you were going to use that knowledge as your advantage and for future reference.

Once your boyfriend caught his breath, he turned around to face you and brought his hand up to your cheek, cupping and playfully pinching it before stealing multiple sweet kisses from your lips.

“You can’t be real—there’s no way. You—God, you’re wonderful. Absolutely extraordinary. I can’t even think right now. I know we’ve waited to be intimate for when you were ready, but damn—I’ve been missing out. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me, but I really would not mind receiving a blow job at least twice a day.”

You jokingly rolled your eyes and softly flicked his forehead at his comment; but you already came to the decision that you would need to have him in your mouth as much as he was hinting towards needing to have you.

“If I’m already losing my mind at having your pretty little mouth around me, what more when I’m buried in your pretty little cunt? I’m so fucking excited to be inside of you baby—but first, I really want to return the favor. I want you to feel the euphoria you just sent me through.”

There were a few moments every now and then when you would imagine what it would feel like to have someone go down on you. Whenever you would go out to meet up with your group of friends, you would talk about everything going on in your lives; work, school, family drama—and you didn’t know how the topic of sex would come about, but they all seemed to live very sexually active lives. Since you were twenty-three years old, you felt embarrassed at the fact that you were still a virgin.

Even more so because you were in a relationship—although sex was an exceptionally big deal when it came to dating, it wasn’t everything. You knew it was normal for some couples to not have sex at all—some people didn’t necessarily care for it and others didn’t revolve their relationships around it. But both you and Mark were still so young; sex was on the minds of almost everyone at your age.

Therefore, you kept to yourself and never joined in as your friends would go in to great detail about how amazing it felt to be eaten out and that some of them were so addicted to having sex to the point where they would have to call in sick from their jobs because they weren’t physically able to walk. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t envious of the fact that every single one of your friends has had some kind of sexual experience.

Apparently, it felt better to have sex with the person you were in a relationship with—or the person you were in love with. Sex was more meaningful and there was more connection—more intimacy involved. One of your friends stated that it was because men had a tendency of giving their all when feelings of love and adoration were involved. Now that you began to think about your conversations with them, you felt as though their words played a small part in leading you to finally wanting to go all the way with Mark.

“Hey, you alright? I didn’t hurt you too much did I?”

You didn’t realize you were spacing out until you felt him run his fingers through your tousled hair. Seeing the worry that was now on his face tugged at your heartstrings; it was painfully obvious that he was enjoying himself. Maybe a little too much, but you liked it. However, you were well aware that Mark wasn’t going to allow this continue unless you were having just as much fun as he was—no matter how thrilled he was to finally get to love on your body.

His reaction made you smile softly to yourself; although he would remind you on a daily basis how you were the best thing that has ever happened to him and that just the mere thought of you is what would keep him going throughout the day, it was nice hearing him worry about how you were doing. Honestly, what did you do to deserve him?

“I’m fine baby. I was just thinking. But—um—I—I didn’t think we would be doing this so I—uh—I’m not really—tidy down there and I don’t want you to see—“ He giggled against the juncture of your neck and dragged his teeth along your collarbone; humming while leaving wet pecks in his wake.

“Baby. Look at me.”

You lifted your head and made direct eye contact with the older boy. In the beginning of your relationship, you were very shy to even hold his hand. Every time he’d look at you or catch you looking at him, heat would rise upon your cheeks as you would blush in embarrassment. But overtime, you were able to look at him without having to turn away from growing shy and timid. You believed it was because you were a lot more comfortable with your boyfriend now and he was very verbal about how much he took great delight in being able to look at you; so you’ve grown immune to his many stolen glances. Although; you still had your few moments of shyness—but Mark was a fan of knowing the effect his gaze had on you.

“I don’t care about things like that, okay? Really—most men don’t and the ones who do are complete assholes. Whether you’re as bare as the desert or have a full on jungle going on, it really doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to eat you out nonetheless. We don’t have to do that if you’re not comfortable just yet, but I’m going to tell you now, I’ve been dreaming about the moment I finally get to have my face smashed up against your pussy since the first day I realized I had feelings for you. It will feel amazing—I promise you. But just like you baby, I want to learn your body. I want to learn each and every curve—I want to map you entirely with my tongue. I want to memorize each and every single birth and beauty mark, every scar, every dimple. I want to know it all and I have the rest of my life to learn. I need you to tell me what you like—what you couldn’t care less for, what you want me to focus on, whether you want me to slow down or pick up my pace. I want you to be verbal about what feels good. I need you to teach me how to love your beautiful body y/n and I won’t stop until you got to feel even half of the amount of pleasure you’ve given me. Okay? I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Each word that fell from his lips; his entire confession of what he had planned to do to you filled your chest with wonder and excitement. You were never afraid of finally giving up your innocence. Sure, you were worried that when he were to finally make his way inside of you—the pain would be unbearable and extremely uncomfortable.

There were quite a few first time horror stories that you’ve heard in the last year from your closest friends, some of your cousins and even a couple of your classmates. But you genuinely didn’t even think about how it would hurt; you trusted Mark more than anyone else in the entire world. You believed wholeheartedly that he wouldn’t hurt you and as much as you didn’t want to think about any of his past lovers, you were sure he had enough experience in bed to know how to take care of a girl.

Hearing that he planned on spending the rest of his life with you just set his feelings in stone for you. The two of you talked about your future together on multiple occasions; where you’d want to live in, the kind of house you’d want to purchase, getting a dog together—things like that, but you didn’t think he was all too serious about you being the person he ended up marrying. It was still so early on in your relationship to plan so far ahead, but when it’s real love, you just know and you’ve known for a long time now that he was the man you want nothing more than to see at the end of the aisle one day.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Are you sure baby?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about anything else in my entire life. I’ve found myself staring at you whenever you’d bite on or lick your lips. I—I’ve pictured how they would feel like nibbling and licking on my clit. I—hate to say this but I think I actually came once—I don’t know if I did, I don’t know how these things work, but my underwear was soaked and my vagina hurt the entire day so—please, eat me Mark Tuan. Show me what that tongue does. Fuck me with your mouth.”

His jaw was now clenched and the veins on his neck grew more prominent. The low, stifled sound of what you assumed as a growl came from the back of his throat. He gave you no time to even think of what to say or how to react, he pushed you roughly on to his bed and smashed his lips against yours. His kisses were hard—fleeting, rushed—he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and kissed you with all the breath he had in his body.

His hands moved all along your sides; he’s touched you quite often, but not in the way that he was right now. Your body felt as those it was burning in flames—there was electricity running through your blood and you had to squeeze your thighs together because of how dominant and animalistic he was acting.

“Fuck, I didn’t realize how sexy hearing you command me to eat you out would sound. You’re so fucking hot, I can’t wait to devour you. But before I do anything, let’s get this off of you. Don’t get me wrong, you look so gorgeous in every outfit that you wear—but whenever you wear my clothes, I get hard every single time. It actually took every bone in my body not to beg you to let me have my way with you. Sometimes, I’ll even buy clothes for myself that I think would look good on you. I really don’t want to rush our relationship and all I care about is your happiness and your well being—but hearing that you trust me and that you want me to be the only man—a lucky man at that—to have you—I’ll never take that for granted.”

He practically yanked his shirt off of you and flew it somewhere across the room. It didn’t matter to either of you—you were both eager to finally indulge in one another and with the way he was quickly discarding both of your clothes from your bodies; impatient to have his way with you—you knew he didn’t care about the state of his bedroom floor. Not when he was seconds away from ravishing in your dripping cunt.

“I really wanted to take my time with you—I wanted our first time together to be soft and slow, but I can’t. The need to fuck the living shit out of you is strong. Oh God—your tits. Ah, I’m fucked. Seriously. As your boyfriend, I always find my gaze wandering over to these pretty titties of yours. But fuck—seeing them bare; your nipples are so perky and I’m sure if I were to flick one of them—they’d be hard. I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting to suck on these huge breasts of yours. Whenever you’d wear a low cut top or even tops that are tight and hug your breasts perfectly—I wondered how wonderful it would feel getting to suck on and massage them.”

You bit your lip at the thought of him palming himself and getting hard while thinking about your boobs. The truth was all coming out and you wished you came to the decision to become one with him sooner—much sooner. His words were doing wonders on the burning sensation in between your thighs.

“Can I tell you something?” He nodded vehemently and you found yourself snickering at how eager he was to respond anything you said or asked of him.

“I’ve played with my breasts a couple of times and I’d pretend it was you in my place. You have such long, skinny fingers and you have such nice hands for a man—I’ve grown curious about what you would do to me once we became intimate and I actually really enjoy how it feels. Breast play—I like it a lot, but I’m sure you can do so much better.”

“You’ve touched yourself?”

“No. Not down there. Only my boobs. I’m too much of a coward to masturbate.”

Out of no where, he lifted up one of his hands and motioned for you to take it. You looked at him in confusion, but he motioned towards your mounds and you had an idea of what he was hinting towards wanting you to do.

“Take my hand and show me how you touch your breasts when you think of me—when you’re horny and playing with yourself. You know, I would have gladly done it for you. All you had to do was ask baby—now I’m hard thinking about you kneading these large mounds. Shit, we need to speed up this process, I need to hurry up and rail you or else I think I’m going to lose my fucking mind. Teach me baby—show me how you do it so I get an idea of what makes your pussy throb. Show me—and then I’ll take matters in to my own hands.”

You did as you were told—not wanting to wait much longer to feel his hands wander throughout your body. His touch was featherlight; you could tell that he was all talk. His words might have been naughty but you knew he was still going to be a gentleman when it came down to it. Mark was always so soft and gentle whenever it came to you.

Sometimes, he’d take care of you as if you were a child; he would feed you if the two of you went out on a date, he would push you on the inside of the sidewalk, run you a bath after you had a long day and he’d also tuck you in to bed before preparing what he needed for the next day.

As horny as he probably was right now, you could tell he was going to try his best not to go past his boundaries and risk making you feel uncomfortable. You dragged his hand between the valley of your breasts; letting his nails graze just below your bosom and you could feel goosebumps rising on your skin at how cold his fingertips were. To his surprise, you cupped one of your breasts with his hand and whispered for him to take your nipple in between his fingers.

“Pinch it—mmm—like that.”

“Like this?”

He squeezed your left breast—molding and kneading while twisting at your right nipple. Just the feeling of him pinching and rolling it in between his fingers was enough to elicit a breathy moan from your lips. You leaned your head back against his pillows as he was hovering over your lap. He leaned down so that you could feel his cock against your clothed entrance.

Mark had left you only in your underwear while he was completely bare of any clothing—if you weren’t so focused on watching him show so much love to your chest, you would have ripped your panty off just to have his naked sex pressed up against yours. He continued his ministrations—spending most of his time just fondling your tits and flicking your nipples.

After a couple of minutes tugging on his soft brown locks and trying to conceal your noises of pleasure, he looked at you with a devilish grin and a sneaky glint in his eye. Right as you were about to ask him why he looked as if he had a trick up his sleeve, he lowered his face down to your chest and wrapped his lips around your breast.

“Oh God—mmm—Mark—holy—“

You couldn’t describe how amazing it felt having him suck on one of your mounds. The sensation was exceedingly mind blowing. He brought your nipple in between his teeth; lightly biting your hardened nub. He lifted his hand up to your other breast and began to squeeze it softly. When you felt him humming as he started to switch back and forth between your boobs; making sure both of your breasts got the same amount of attention, the throbbing sensation in between your thighs heightened.

“Such pretty—pretty titties. I could suck on these things all day if you’d let me.”

You were about to retaliate—wanting to jokingly scold him because you weren’t quite used to him being this vulgar, but he was quick to return his mouth back to your chest.

“Mark.”

He looked so adorable as he released your boob with a loud pop sound. “Yes baby? You okay?”

You nodded in agreement before reaching for his hand and lowering it down to the waistband of your panties. Your boyfriend needed to know just how absolutely mad you were quickly becoming at his generous ministrations. He practically sucked your tits like it was his life duty to—as if it was his job. Without hesitation, you forcefully shoved his fingers inside; his breathing began to increase as he dragged his fingers along your wet folds.

“Holy fuck, you’re soaking wet princess. I’m not even kidding babe, you’re like the Pacific Ocean. All because I’m sucking on your titties? God y/n, where the hell did you come from? You’re otherworldly.”

To your dismay, he pulled his fingers away before genuinely doing anything, but he was quick to put his fingers in to his mouth and sucked on your essence. The sight alone sent chills down your spine—it was so fucking hot. He was so fucking hot and you needed him to speed up the process or else you would actually cry from sexual frustration.

“Just as I expected; you taste delicious. So sweet. Mind if I get a taste straight from the source?” Once he received your nod of approval, he kissed you a few times—smiling against your lips as he began to cup your sex through the flimsy cotton.

“Promise me you’ll be vocal about what feels good and what doesn’t. If you need me to stop—if it gets too much, I’ll try to pull away, but I can’t promise you anything. You taste too good.”

Before you knew it, he started to make his way down your body. He ran his hands along your sides while leaving kisses down your neck—your collarbones, kissing both breasts, gripping your hips while placing kisses down your stomach. Once his face was right above your naval, he left a chaste kiss on your belly button causing you to giggle at the tickling sensation—but the laughter didn’t last long.

He put both of his hands on either of your knees and pried your legs open; giving him better access to your entrance. Knowing that his face was just meters away from your core sent you in to a frenzy. This was something from your wildest dreams; you knew that the two of you would become intimate sooner or later, but seeing him in between your thighs made you lightheaded.

Mark wasted no time in nibbling on your soft skin—he bit on your underwear and pulled it down to your legs, completely ridding you of your final piece of clothing. You were grateful that you picked the right kind of panties to wear tonight; although you were sure Mark wouldn’t have cared at all if you decided to wear boy shorts or granny panties.

Since you were in a position where you weren’t able to see him, you soon grew insecure at the idea of being completely bare in front of him. All you wanted was to be enough for your boyfriend; he was nothing short of perfect and you desired to be exactly that for him. It’s what he deserved.

Seeing as how you lacked self-confidence, you brought your hands up to your eyes to prevent yourself from seeing his reaction of seeing you completely naked. Mark was a very kind person towards you; especially because he was your boyfriend, so you knew that there was a chance he would lie or not tell you the complete truth in order to save your feelings.

You were afraid that he might have been with girls who had nicer bodies than you—skinnier, smaller and more petite frames with tiny waists, big breasts and a round, plump ass. You’d rather him be honest with you, but even if he just so happened to find flaws on your body, you were well aware that he wouldn’t admit it. That’s just who he was; Mark hated hurting people’s feelings, even if they deserved to know the truth. Just because you were his girlfriend wouldn’t change the fact that he was always looking out to protect people and prevent them from feeling bad about themselves.

“Nope—we’re not having any of that.” He reached up to pull your hands away from your face and gave you a scowl. “You—are so breathtakingly beautiful. I can’t even fathom your beauty in to words. I could write a novel about your gorgeous features—how did I get so damn lucky? Your body; fuck—your body is a damn wonderland y/n and I can’t wait to explore it. You have such a pretty cunt and I’m so excited to fuck it. Listen to me baby—you are the most beautiful girl on this hell forsaken earth you hear me? By the end of the night, I will make sure you know how much of a goddess you are.”

He blew warm air against your cunt—immediately sending shivers down your spine. Finally, after what felt like hours waiting for him touch you—to actually touch you, he licked a long strip along your folds and you let out a loud whimper.

“Fuck!”

“You like that?”

You nodded so quickly—not caring how straight forward your response was. He began to lick and suck along your folds—his hands made their way up to your ass cheeks and squeezed both as he went to work; nibbling and sucking on your pussy. His teeth grazed against your overly sensitive nub and you found yourself pulling on the bedsheets—needing to grip at anything other than his hair because you knew if you were to tug on his locks while he was sucking you dry—he’d probably be bald by the end of the night.

“Fuck—Mark! Ah—there, right there—oh—“

With every hum and moan against your core, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your end. You believed that you were close to orgasming; there was an unfamiliar burning sensation in your stomach and you knew that Mark was going to do whatever he could to lessen the tension. Your moans only grew louder the longer his mouth stayed on your cunt; his wet muscle continued to lap up your juices. To your delight, he brought his index and middle finger up to your entrance and didn’t give you any time to prepare before he shoved both digits inside of you.

“Oh my God—Mark! That feels—so, so good!”

You couldn’t even describe the euphoria you were feeling as his tongue licked and slurped against your clit while he began pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your heart felt as if it was about to leap out of your chest; he was taking your breath away and you were sure with how many times you were chanting his name that you were going to lose your voice before the night ends. When you felt him curl both fingers inside of you, you yelped in shock.

He was reaching deeper—you weren’t sure just how far into your cunt that his fingers could go, but he began to graze along an area that was soon causing your knees to buckle and your thighs to shake.

“Mark—Mark—oh—baby—“

“That’s your g-spot if you didn’t already know. I plan on keeping that in mind. Feels good doesn’t it?”

“Mmm—yeah—please, go faster.”

He giggled against your folds and placed a sloppy kiss against your labia all the while adding in another finger inside. You could feel tears brimming at your eyelids, but it was only because he was bringing you so much pleasure. You absentmindedly lowered your hand down to his face and cupped his cheek; he might have said his main purpose was to please you, but you were hoping that he was receiving the same amount of ecstasy that he was giving to you. His movements picked up—switching between his lips, tongue and fingers. He even playfully slapped your pussy in the hopes of getting a rise out of you and instead of growing irritated, you were sure he brought you closer to your end.

“Close baby?”

“Yes—God yes. Your tongue—your fingers—I can’t hold it in anymore—“

“You don’t have to. Let go for me.”

The last sentence came out as a command; his voice was low and raspy which caused you to do exactly as you were told. Your head felt as if it was about to blow up. Everything was spinning; you began to see white and the tightness in your stomach was no longer there. It felt like a wave crashed upon you and filled up your lungs; taking your breath away completely. Mark didn’t stop his licking—he continued to suck up your juices entirely.

He drank from your cunt like you were a well and he was dying of thirst. Once your boyfriend decided that he rid you completely of your release, he pulled his fingers out of the depths of your silky walls and made his way back up to you. The sight of your fucked out state made him chuckle—your chest was rapidly rising, some of your hair was stuck to your forehead and your eyes were rolled to the back of your head.

In that moment—seeing you look as if the wind was completely swept out of you, he knew this was when you looked the most ethereal. The kiss against your forehead was delicate; featherlight. Nothing compared to the rough and impatient ones he left on your core just a few moments ago. When he brought his fingers up to your lips, you saw the white liquid running along both his index and his ring fingers and internally groaned.

“I want you to taste yourself. Say ah.”

You stuck out your tongue and allowed him to insert his digits inside of your mouth; you made sure to make direct eye contact as you sucked on his fingers just like you previously did with his length. You swirled your tongue around both of them, making sure to press your wet muscle before allowing him to pull them out. His brows were furrowed while he dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. He was obviously extremely turned on by your ministrations and soon, his lips were back on yours.

His hands immediately cupped both your cheeks as he put in as much energy in to the kiss that he could muster. With the way he was kissing you—like he would die if he were to take his lips away from yours, you were growing impatient with wanting to finally have him fill you up.

Having his naked body pressed up against yours, feeling his cock graze against your entrance, having your breasts pressed up firmly against his chest—everything was getting too much for you. There were so many emotions running through you; you were never going to get enough of having Mark like this.

“How was it y/n? I mean—I’m assuming you were having a great time. You absentmindedly began to wrap your legs around my head and I did grow a little lightheaded but—“

“Oh my God Mark, why didn’t you say anything?! I’m so sorry—“

He let out a soft snicker against your neck and placed a kiss there while making his way back up to you. “Don’t apologize, it was fucking sexy as hell. You’re like my own personal ear muffs. Being suffocated by these thick thighs of yours would be an ideal way to go if you ask me.”

You both erupted in laughter at his silly comment and you enjoyed the playful banter going on between the two of you. Was it normal to joke around during a time of lust and erotica? It didn’t matter—everything that happened tonight would be forever imprinted in to your heart. The events that happened so far were just as touching and heartwarming as they were sexual.

“You’re such a dumbass you know that? But yes, I had a wonderful time. Thank you baby. That was—wow—more than I could ever imagine. Fuck, that felt heavenly. I really liked that; more than I’d want to admit. Your lips and your tongue are now my favorite body parts on you.”

“Oh, really? I’ll keep that in mind for future reference. I enjoyed that just as much as you did. I’m not kidding, you taste marvelous. I could spend the entire rest of tonight with my head in between your thighs—but I think it’s time you and I finally um—you know—“

“Fuck?”

“Jeez y/n, could you be any less romantic?”

He squeezed your ass and slapped both of your both of your cheeks. However, he was quick to change his demeanor from naughty to gentle and soft. His eyes softened and he brought some of your hair behind your ear; letting his fingers glide along your neck and collarbones. The glint in his eyes made your heart swell up—any nerves that you had before going in to it were completely gone now. All you could think about was giving yourself completely to the love of your life.

“Babe.”

“Yeah?”

“Take me already. I’m yours.”

He gave you a soft smile and brought his bottom lip in between his teeth; he took his index finger and began to trace your features—starting with both your brows, then taking it along your nose to just above your Cupid’s bow. His ran his thumb along your top lip and you placed a sweet kiss on the back of it.

“Say it again.”

“Huh?”

“I’m yours. I want you to say it again.” If you were to take a look at yourself right now, you were sure your cheeks would be flushed—you were now shy for the first time tonight.

“Mark Tuan—I’m yours. Forever.”

He clenched his jaw—your words obviously had some kind of affect on him. To your confusion, he got off of you and leaped over to his drawer; rummaging through clothes and underwear. Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting for him to find whatever it was that he looked for, he released a sigh of relief and briskly made his way back over to you.

The tin foil packet was held in between his fingers and he waved it around like some kind of trophy. Only then did it really occur to you that you were going to lose your virginity—and to the man who your entire life revolved around. It was a bittersweet feeling; but you were more than happy to eventually be able to experience having your way with one another. He tore open the wrapper and placed the condom on his dick—crawling over to you and hovering over your lap. He gently took your chin in between his fingers and lifted your face so that you were looking up at him.

“I’m sorry if it hurts okay? It might feel uncomfortable and maybe even painful at first. I want you to tell me if you need me to stop or to slow down. I’ll try not to go too hard since it is your first time, but if you were already so tight around my fingers, I can only imagine you’re going to clench around me with your pussy in the most delicious way. You trust me right?”

You nodded—not missing a beat while giving him an exhausted smile. It wasn’t even up for debate, you trusted Mark with your entire being. He was the only person you would confess every single thing to. Whenever you had good news, he was the first person you wanted to tell and whenever your day wasn’t all that great, you wanted to find solace in him and he wrapped up in his embrace. When you nonverbally gave him your permission to take the lead, he lined himself at your entrance and tapped his cock against your folds; running it back and forth along your labia in order to collect some of your juices.

“Remember, I don’t move unless you say I can.”

He lowered himself and placed his lips against yours; you assumed it was his way of taking your mind off of the stretch that was about to come. As soon as Mark entered himself inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a whimper. It wasn’t all that painful, but it was uncomfortable. Obviously, you weren’t used to being filled like this; something about the way his cock felt against your walls ignited a tingling sensation to your core. Your boyfriend moaned against your mouth and tightened his grip on your hip bones. “

Fuck—you’re so tight. Shit; I’m not even exaggerating—“

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes. God yes. You feel glorious. But are you okay? It doesn’t hurt too much does it?”

You shook your head in disagreement. No matter how uncomfortable you were, it was adamant that your boyfriend was trying his best not to lose his shit. You were going to suck it up and take him like a big girl; you were well aware that the pain would soon be replaced with pleasure once he began to pick up the pace.

“Mark, you can move. I’m okay.”

His eyes seemingly rolled to the back of his head after hearing you give him permission to move and he didn’t even take a second to process that information, he began to ram himself slowly inside of you. He pulled his cock out of you before pounding his length back inside of your cunt all but gently. His pelvis hit your ass with each and every thrust and just as you expected it, you were now moaning in pleasure from the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting the back of your cervix.

The two of you moaned in unison each time he bottomed in and out of you. He rotated between stealing chaste kisses from you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and groaning against your jaw and sucking on both of your breasts; biting on your nipples whenever he thrusted himself a little too roughly.

“F—fuck—feels so—“

“I know—shit—you’re so fucking wet y/n—“

His pace grew quicker to the point where he was practically railing you—the sound of skin smacking and clapping against each other alongside of both his and your moans and curses bounced off of his walls. You weren’t sure whether or not he was aware that he was leaving bruises on your skin, but you didn’t care—your mind was solely focused on him and only him. Everything else was just going to have to with till the morning. He pulled his hands away from your waist and brought them up to your breasts, pushing them up and down as he mirrored his movements inside of your warm cavern.

“You look so beautiful right now I don’t think there are enough words in the English dictionary to even describe just how gorgeous you are. I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

He lifted one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder; you weren’t sure exactly what he was doing until he pushed his dick back into your folds and began to reach deeper and further in to your pussy. “H-holy shit Mark—“ His girth continuously grazed against your clit; the way his hands were roaming all throughout your body, you had a feeling he couldn’t keep his hands in one place.

Sweat was dripping down the both of you; when he lifted your other leg on top of his shoulder, you immediately clenched around him. The sensation was driving you literally insane. He was right; now that he had an idea of what made you squirm and scream, you could tell that he was going to use it against you.

“Fuck, did you just get tighter? Stop that—please, I know I’m minutes away from coming and I don’t want to cum just yet. I really didn’t want to tease you tonight, but I will teach you a lesson if I have to. Don’t test me y/n. Come on, you’ve been such a good girl this entire night baby. We can experiment more next time, but for now, I just want to make love to my pretty girl.”

It was tempting; if he was going to mess around with you by constantly trying to reach for your g-spot, you wanted to show him the same amount of teasing by clenching around him. You also wanted to see just how animalistic your boyfriend could get and you wanted him to go rough on you—but you didn’t want to have to beg him to do something, anything to help you reach your release. You wanted to experience coming with him—you were already so close to your second coming.

Mark was a man of actions rather than of talking, so you trusted the fact that he would punish you if you did continue to go against his wishes. Although you were well aware now that you’ve finally had him inside of you, having sex would be a frequent activity—you felt yourself smiling like an idiot hearing him make plans for the next time you’d tumble in to bed together.

After a few moments, you felt your legs giving in—probably because of how sore your inner thighs were now that he kept burying himself in between them at a mind blowing pace. He fucked you like he had vengeance on you—his cock filled you to the hilt. Slowly, he brought your legs off of him and got closer to you; he intertwined your hands together and placed them on either side of your head.

He continued to pump himself inside of you—constant moans continued to fall from your lips. You were completely speechless; his name fell off of your lips like a mantra. He kissed you hard; his pink lips were swollen and you were sure your lips looked similar if not the same.

“Y/n.”

You looked up at him and your breath hitched when you saw the way he was looking at you. His gaze was one that you didn’t recognize. His eyes were soft—he had a small smile that you wouldn’t have been able to distinguish if you didn’t see the glint in his eyes. You were about to question his sudden whisper of your name but he beat you to it.

“I love you. God, do I love you. I love you so much baby. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t ever want to stop saying it.”

With every thrust came a love confession and just hearing him admit those three magical words; the three words you’ve been yearning to hear for months—his words alone sent butterflies to your tummy and you weren’t even able to say it back to him before you felt yourself letting go and seeing stars for a second time. With a few more thrusts, you were soon being filled with his creamy, warm liquid and he flopped down on top of you while burying his face in between your breasts.

You brought one hand in to his hair while dragging the other gently across of the expense of his back. The two of you laid there in silence; giving yourselves some time to both settle down from your breathtaking and extremely mind blowing orgasms. You were sure he could feel your heart racing against his chest; his was beating rapidly against yours. A huge grin rose on your face as you began to think about his love confession.

He loved you.

You didn’t care that it took him six months to admit his feelings for you, you were completely over the moon. You left a soft kiss right below his ear.

“I love you too Mark and I’m in love with you. I have been for longer than I’d like to admit. I’ve been wanting to tell you for months, but I was afraid that it was too early to tell you and that you didn’t feel that way about me—“

“I’ve been in love with you since our second date y/n I’m not even joking. Don’t get me wrong, like I’ve mentioned multiple times tonight, you’re genuinely such a beautiful girl—you’re literally a sight for sore eyes. But everything about you is seemingly perfect. Your personality, your intelligence, your kindness, generosity and your heart. The way you dropped everything to run over to help that older lady carry her groceries to the bus stop and then the way you didn’t even hesitate to buy ice cream for that little girl who dropped hers at the play ground. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, I need you to know that. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re my entire world y/n. These last six months with you—getting to love you—kissing you, having late night conversations about the future with you, going on all these cute little dates with you, staying up till three in the morning to talk with you—I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I would go to the ends of this earth if it meant having you for the rest of my life in each and every lifetime.”

Tears began to fall down your cheeks and you immediately pulled him in to another kiss; you didn’t think you were able to top his heartfelt speech nor did you want to. You could only hope your signs of affection would be enough to prove what your words weren’t able to.

“Is sex everything you could hope it would be?”

“Yes. I um—I’m actually upset with myself for waiting this long. If I knew back then what I know now; if I knew how glorious making love to you would be then I would have let you take me right after our first date. You’re so good to me Mark. You’re the best boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Thank you for that; and for every single thing that you do for me. Was I okay though? I know, you’ve probably been with partners who had more experience and were able to please you in better ways than I did, but I’m willing to learn whatever I need to in order to be good enough for you—“

You frowned when he roughly placed his hand over your mouth in attempts to silence you and licked his hand out of force of habit. “I never ever want to hear you say that you aren’t good enough for me or that you want to change your ways to be what you think I deserve. You are what I deserve; hell, if anything, I’m not good enough for you y/n. That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life and I mean it. I’m not just saying that to spare your feelings or to make you feel better about the situation. You are the only person I’ve ever been in love with. You’re the only person I am ever going to love. What we had wasn’t sex—we made love. You were perfect baby. You made sure to take care of me and made tonight about us—even if I really wanted to focus specifically on you. Did I not praise you enough for the mindblowing blowjob you gave me? Where did you even learn how to do that? That was—I’m speechless. You took my breath away at least five times tonight and now you’re doing it for a sixth time just looking the way you do right now. If you’re not tired, I’m hard again. I’m sure you can feel it. There are so many things I want to do to you and since the night is still young, maybe we can cross some of those things off of my list. I want you on all fours baby. I wanna see that ass clap for me.”

Your imagination Now I'm fixated And I'm dying to learn Every inch of you Therе's something new F'ing me up I'm what you deserve, just

Draw a map for me Laced with strawberries And I'll get on my knees

Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush

Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me how to love (please teach me how to love) Put my hands around you Ooh, teach me how to Touch you, tease, caress you, and please you Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love How to love How to love Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Babe, I won't stop 'til you feel the rush Teach me, teach me, teach me how to love

#got7 imagines #got7 #got7 mark #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines

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atinydise · 4 years

Text

Ateez slapping their s/o’s butt or whistling at them

❦ Genre: Fluff/Suggestive.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 15k.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG

“Don’t do it... don’t do it...” repeated Hongjoong once again. You stared at him, “don’t do what weirdo?” “Nothing, just thinking out loud.” You gave him a look saying, “okay whatever” and then continued to tidy your wardrobe. Hongjoong was totally immersed by your butt in this sporty shirt you were wearing. It was not the first time you showed skin like this, in fact he wasn’t even shook because you’ve been intimate before. But he ignored why this short has this effect on him. “Where this short is coming from?” He shyly asked. “Hum... I don’t know I found in my old stuff why? Isn’t it cute?” You faced the mirror, looking at your reflection. “It’s cute. I just never saw it before.” “Stop staring at me like you are liking an ice cream and go back to your work.” You stuck your tongue out at him. “Yes, you right...” he sighed. Hongjoong couldn’t help it. Just before leaving the room and almost ran toward you and slapped loudly but nicely your butt. You puffed at this action, “Kim Hongjoong! Since when are you slapping your girlfriend’s ass like that?” “Since this short looks too good on you!” He shouted before closing the door. He sighed of relief, “aaah it feels good.”

SEONGHWA

You went to a Festival with the group. It was a special event in South Korea and you really wanted to go there, at least once. For the occasion, you wore a nice dress a little bit shorter from what you usually wear but it was okay. "When Seonghwa is joining us?" Asked Wooyoung. "He's probably on his way here. He needed to finish his individual schedule first." You looked at the time on your phone. "I really want to win this big plushie!" Interrupted San, pointing at a big fox. "Don't you think you have enough plushies San?" You giggled. He stared at you coldly. "You and Seonghwa might get along really well..." "Come on, this big plushie won't even fit in your room." "And what about the living-room?" he suggested. "Bring this there and I throw your stuff out of the dorm." Claimed Hongjoong, walking next to you. You were about to laugh at San's face, but you heard someone whistling behind you. You instantly wanted to punch who did this, but when you saw your boyfriend with a wide smile on his face, you couldn't help but to melt a little bit more for him. "I was about to punch you!" you kissed his cheek. "Yes, I was scared to come back home with a black eye." He replied. "You are gorgeous." He complimented you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “But don’t do it again,” you said seriously. “It’s not polite to do this to a lady.” “Yes Ma’am.”

YUNHO

Even if you told him that he would be bored because you would be cleaning your entire apartment, Yunho insisted on spending some time with you. He came in the morning around 10AM, you were already cleaning the kitchen. All the dishes were spread out everywhere, waiting to be washed as well. "Hi babe," you greeted him. "You look in a good mood for someone who usually doesn't like to clean." He giggled. "I know but this playlist is sooo good!" You claimed, doing some terrible body rolls. Yunho sat on the couch. "Since when are you cleaning?" "7AM." You continued to dance, cleaning the counter at the same time. "3 hours and you just cleaned the bathroom?" "Blame this playlist," you replied. Secretly, your boyfriend was enjoying the view in front of him. He loved to see you so happy and dancing this way. Even your failed twerks made you cute. "Everybody thinks you shy but I know you are a freak little baby!" you sang out loud. Yunho stood up and sneaked behind you, making sure you couldn't see him. When you bent down on the counter, he slapped your butt. The sound resonated in the whole room. You were a little bit shocked because he never did this to you, but you admitted that you liked it. A lot. "What was that for?" you smirked, booping his nose. "I don't know... I just wanted to." He replied, grabbing a bottle of water next to you, before going back to the couch like nothing happened.

YEOSANG

You slap Yeosang's ass all the time. Just like that because you find it funny and because you know he hates it. Most of the time he would ask you to stop and sometimes even end being mad because of this, but it's just a matter of time. And he couldn't resist against your puppy eyes. But you couldn't help it, it's like you needed to touch his cute butt at least 1 time per day. But after 1 year, he found how he couldn't avoid this daily slap. He just needed to run away every time he feels you coming. Or when he can see you anymore, he would find the perfect moment before you could reach him. Like today, you were enjoying a night walk with your boyfriend and just when he was walking a little bit in front of you, you tried to slap him, but he stopped you once again. "How you do that?" you asked. "I just know you." He replied proudly. "I won't give up." "Don't waste your energy on that anymore." He patted your head. You pouted and continued to walk. Inside of your head, you were thinking about a strategy to get him by surprise, but you completely snapped out of your mind when you felt his hand slapping your butt. You were speechless, you ignored that he would do it one day. He was always so shy. "So? How it feels?" he smirked, knowing that you were confused. "I like it, do it again." You replied. "Huh... she's crazy," he sighed. "Slap me again!" You shouted, trying to embarrass him more. He started to run, trying to stay away from you. "Kang Yeosang, slap me again!" "Help me!" He yelled; scared of you.

SAN

"What do you want to eat for lunch?" asked San, opening the delivery app. "Whatever you want." You replied, looking for a glass. "Come on I already chose yesterday." "Then do it again." San raised a brow. It has been almost 2 days that you were so bratty. At first, he thought that you were a little upset or something but no, you seemed really fine. But he didn't add anything, he just ordered a pizza and closed the app. When finally, the delivery guy handed you the box, you stared at your boyfriend. "Oh, you bought pizza again?" "You told me to take whatever I want." You gave politely the money to the delivery guy and thanked him for his work. "I never thought that you would take pizza again. We ate one Monday." "Then maybe you should have told me about it when I asked you." "Anyway." You rolled your eyes. San knew you weren't mad at him, but why a sudden change of mood? "Are you okay?" he asked, entering the kitchen. You grabbed a piece of pizza, "I'm fine. Why are you asking? Because I said-" "Okay relax," he cut you straight. You rolled your eyes again and engulfed the pizza in your mouth. You couldn't lie on the fact that it was tasty. Your boyfriend noticed your eyerolls again and decided to slap your butt, nicely but you could feel the suggestive side of it. "Don't be so bratty with me." He smirked coldly. You nodded dumbly at him, he looked so intimidating and sexy that you didn't want to make him mad again.

MINGI

"I don't think this jean will fits me well." You stated from the dressing-room. "Everything looks good on you," replied Mingi. "You said that because you're my boyfriend." "Yes, but because I found everything pretty on you too." You stayed silent, smiling dumbly because of this sudden compliment. "Just come out so I can see it." "Don't laugh okay?" you asked shyly. "Why the hell I would laugh? I'm your boyfriend, not the mean girl of high school." You giggled by the thought of him wearing a pink dress and radiating the ‘bad bitch energy’. "Okay, I'm coming." You opened the curtain slowly. You were a bit insecure about your body and stuff, so it wasn't easy for you to come out with new clothes and stuff like that. "Why were you so scared? You look really good in this!" He hyped you. "Really? Isn't it too tight?" "Nothing is too tight for you babe," he winked at you. "Men..." "Can you turn around quickly." You executed; you wanted his entire opinion on this jean. But you weren't expecting him to give you a little slap on your butt while you were turning around. "Mingi!" "It fits you very much, let's buy it now." He smiled widely. "You are incredible..."

WOOYOUNG

You didn't know why you told the manager that you could replace the make-up staff for the week, but you were regretting it a bit. It was so exhausting to follow them around and to apply make-up H24/24 on 8 faces. The only thing you were happy about was that you could see Wooyoung all the time. You just needed to stay away sometimes since no one knows that you were in a secret relationship. But your boyfriend made it hard. He was constantly messing his make-up, so you could take care of him for 10 minutes minimum. "If people don't assume that we are a couple with your comportment then it will be a miracle." You whispered. "I just can't stay away from you," he smiled. "But you will need to because, first of all, I'm tired of painting your face every 30 minutes and second of all because we are going to get problems." "Okay okay," he said. "I'll come every 40 minutes then." You hit his shoulder to bring him back to reality. "I'm not joking Jung Wooyoung! We need to be more careful." Wooyoung simply nodded. In fact, he was contemplating your body on the mirror's reflection. "Okay, it's done." You claimed, standing up correctly. Wooyoung stood up after you and smiled at you before giving you a quick slap on your butt. "Thank you, babe." You wanted to yell at him that he couldn't do such things here, but you were frozen. Too shocked to say anything.

JONGHO

Jongho asked you to come to the practice dance room. They would do a little diner there to celebrate their 600 days as a group. For the occasion, you bought a few snacks as chips, drinks, chocolate bars and stuff like this. You even drew a handmade banner for this special day. Everything was fine. You couldn't help but to think about how your boyfriend might feel. Being an idol was his dream and now he succeeded. You couldn't be prouder of him. Suddenly, your phone buzzed on your coat. Hardly because your hands were full, you grabbed it. Jongho was calling you. "Hello Y/N," he greeted you. "Hi weirdo, I'm almost there." You let him know. "Do you think you will be here in 2 minutes because I'm going to the grocery store." "Hum... if I run ye-" You heard a suggestive whistle behind you. At first, you looked at the bunch of college students which were sitting at your right. You were about to yell; telling them that it was not polite, but you heard the whistle again. You turned around this time. "Jongho! Oh my god," you shouted. "I was about to insult the group over there." Your boyfriend couldn't hold his laughter. "I should have filmed this." "And don't whistle me like that anymore idiot! I'm not a piece of meat." "I know babe, I was just kidding with you." He pinched your cheeks before grabbing the heavy bags for you.

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sondepoch · 3 years

Text

Chapter 4

Hearts on Three (Satan x Reader)

The athlete and the nerd. The rich kid and the scholarship student. The girl who will constantly joke about breaking your knee caps and the boy who will actually do it. There are so many ways to describe your relationship with Satan. Too many, if you’re being honest. He’s your best friend. The smartest tutor you’ve ever had. He also spends thousands of dollars for you at the drop of a hat and holds your hand when you’re feeling down. And in the beginning, that's okay. Neither of you let yourselves get bogged down by labels, both of you content to just savor this newfound friendship. But deeper feelings always have a way of complicating things. And for better or for worse, you and Satan are no exception.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

MASTERLIST

“Bro, you good?”

Satan blinks the sleep from his eyes at the feeling of a pencil tapping against his shoulder, groggily turning to face the owner of the voice that tore him from his precious slumber.

“...bwha?” is the educated response Satan can come up with in his sleep-addled mind.

Solomon snorts.

“Dude, this is the third time you’ve fallen asleep in class this week.” The white-haired athlete grins. “Keep this up and I’m gonna score better than you on tomorrow’s test.”

“We have a…”

Satan groans inwardly. He has a test tomorrow? The blonde blinks up at the board. It takes a second for his vision to clear, but then it registers that he’s in math class, and everything else falls into place. A quick scan over the whiteboard confirms that Satan didn’t miss anything important, that the chapter the teacher is covering is something Satan taught himself roughly two years back, but the boy still groans to himself in frustration. He doesn’t like to sleep through class. Ever.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Satan mumbles to his friend when he glances at the clock. It seems that Solomon let him doze for nearly the entire period, opting to wake him up a mere minute before the bell should ring.

“No problem. But seriously, I’ve never seen you slack this hard. You good?”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired because…” Satan trails off, hesitant to confess that the reason he’s so exhausted is because of you. No doubt, Solomon would read way too deeply into that—nope, wait, it looks like Solomon figured it out on his own from the shit-eating grin he’s now sporting.

“Ah, your future girlfriend, is it?” Solomon leans back in his chair, grinning. “The love life is rough, buddy. Make sure you’re using protection at night, though.”

Satan has never been more relieved to hear a bell ring.

“Would you lower your voice?” He growls when a couple of kids passing by give him weird looks. Satan glares hard at Solomon, but the latter gives a grand total of zero (0) shits.

“Sorry,” Solomon says in a voice that makes it all too clear that he’s not sorry.

Satan has never hated his schedule more than in the next moment when he realizes that Solomon is in his next class and that they can’t split ways. Worse yet, it’s Physical Education—the stupidest course of all time because all it consists of is kids walking in circles for an entire hour and being “encouraged” to run. And somehow, to top it off, Satan always ends up walking with Solomon.

“We’re not together,” Satan grunts to his friend when they’re outside doing laps around the track. “It’s just that it’s fucking hard to balance club duties, her volleyball schedule, and my own studies.”

“I totally get it,” Solomon blurts. “But you’ve gotta get used to it, bro. Imagine how much harder it’s gonna be to when the two of you start dating! You’ll have to take her out on dates, and—fuck—have you ever been to one of her games? She has crazy stamina, man. The two of you’ll be at it all night.”

Satan thinks back to freshman orientation, wondering why, of all the places to sit, he chose the seat next to the most annoying person in the entire academy.

“Solomon, can you shut the fuck up?”

Solomon, unsurprisingly, does not shut the fuck up.

With enough difficulty, Satan does finally manage to steer the topic away from Solomon’s matchmaking attempts and towards more normal topics. Namely, Satan’s matchmaking attempts. Of course, just as Satan places no weight on Solomon’s opinions on his love life, Solomon completely ignores Satan’s advice to stop beating around the bush and just ask Asmo out, the athlete having the nerve to say “I’ll ask Asmo out when you ask our volleyball captain out”—as if you and Satan have a remotely similar history to Asmo and Solomon, who, as now known by the entire campus, are both desperately pining for each other but are too dumb to see it.

Satan sighs, shaking his head.

Idiots, he thinks. I’m surrounded by idiots.

It’s to this thought that Satan hears someone calling his name in the distance: an extremely familiar voice, almost grating on the ears, but a voice he knows he should not be hearing.

Satan shakes his head, deciding that he’ll clear up his schedule today so he gets a nap in because surely, surely he must be imagining you calling his voice. Surely you’re not actually on this track field. Surely you’re not cutting English, of all courses, a subject that Satan insists you pay extra attention to because it’s the single course you're most likely to fail.

“Bro,” Solomon whispers, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Satan closes his eyes, trying to see if pretending that he doesn’t hear your footsteps sprinting closer and closer towards him will make it so that they’re not real.

It doesn’t work.

“Satan!” You shriek, now close enough that he can’t pretend you’re a figment of his imagination anymore. “Satan! Satan, Satan, Satan!”

The blonde continues staring resolutely forward, committing himself to the ideology of I do not see it, therefore it is not happening.

Unfortunately, Satan sees it. And so it happens.

Without any warning whatsoever, you lurch forward and grapple on to Satan, wrapping your limbs around him like a literal koala as you yeet yourself onto him with enough force that Satan is just barely able to remain standing when you attach yourself to him while shrieking: ”Satan! Guess what, guess what!”

The blonde is at a loss for words, so dumbfounded and taken aback that it’s all he can do to sputter out a confused “w-what?”

You grin at him with a smile so wide it looks like it hurts, and Satan can only stare as you reveal what made you so happy.

“I got an 85 on the Shakespeare test!”

The Shakespeare test, the man thinks, trying to remember.

The Shakespeare test, he repeats in his mind, a vision of you cram-reading the final acts of King Lear flashing through his mind

The Shakespeare test! Satan realizes with a start, suddenly recalling how it was a test he expected you to fail.

Satan’s mouth drops open at that. He had been prepared for you to get a 20, a 30; the highest you told him to expect was a 60, and even that was below the fail margin, but an 85? Holy shit, Satan might cry if he got a grade like that, but for you, it’s a genuine accomplishment, and he’s fucking proud.

“You’re joking,” he blurts, already calculating how this will affect your average and, holy shit, it’s actually going to pull you up to a passing grade.

“I’m not!” you declare with so much happiness that it’s infectious, and then the two of you are hugging and laughing except that Satan’s literally carrying you so it’s awkward, but neither of you care because this is the highest grade you’ve pulled all year, and Satan is finally beginning to feel like the late hours and the sleepless nights are all worth it.

The two of you are grinning and beaming at each other even when you finally de-koala yourself from Satan and land on the ground; and it’s at this precise moment that Satan realizes just how many people are watching.

The blonde clears his throat awkwardly.

It felt so natural when you tackled Satan midair, but he’s now beginning to realize just how intimate that whole scene looked to any onlookers. He stiffens, and you seem to notice, your own demeanor turning sheepish in turn.

A low whistle from next to you diffuses the situation.

“An 85, huh?” Solomon slings an arm around your shoulder, sandwiching you between him and Satan as the three of you continue walking along the track field—effectively sending a message to anyone watching that the show is over. “Not bad, Captain, not bad.”

“It’s amazing, Solomon!” you cry out in turn, grinning as you lean into his shoulder. (Satan doesn’t feel weird when he sees that, he swears he doesn’t.) “I haven’t scored this high since, well, I dunno. I don’t really pay attention to the scores I get because they’re always so low!”

Solomon laughs at that, definitely remembering when he was the same way.

“It’s all thanks to Satan, no?” Solomon prods, and the blonde shoots a sharp look at his friend. He’s up to something. Satan isn’t sure if he wants to know what.

“Oh, definitely! He literally read every single text out loud to me! I left this one book for the very last day, and he actually stayed with me and—”

“You need to get back to class,” Satan swiftly interrupts, his ears turning red. “You did well on one test, but you need to pay attention if you want to continue.”

“Oh, but—”

Satan practically shoves you away, gesturing wildly the whole time with a vigor that has you confused but compliant as you slowly depart, doubtlessly making your way back to the English building as slowly as you possibly can.

When you’re gone, Solomon snorts.

“You read to her?” He asks, expression brimming with mirth.

“It’s not—it’s an effective studying technique that we use to save time—”

“Oh my god,” Solomon mumbles under his breath, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. “Next thing you know, I’ll find out that she’s sleeping on your shoulder or something. Seriously, Satan, way to make a move early on.”

Satan is incredibly grateful that Solomon doesn’t see how his face changes at that part, a flush rising on his cheeks when he realizes that you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder not once, now, but several times.

“Shut up,” Satan grumbles, trying to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“No way, man!” Solomon cackles with laughter, finding great amusement in his friend’s frustration. “Oh my god, the two of you are so perfect for each other that it hurts! Here, take a look at this—”

Solomon pulls up his phone and opens up his Photo Gallery, swiping twice before handing it over to Satan.

“Just look at that, dude—” he gestures vaguely at the picture. “You two already look like you’re dating.”

Satan stares at the image, his feet slowing down. It’s a picture of you and Satan hugging, taken conveniently when you were still koala-ing Satan with your entire body because of course Solomon was able to get a picture that quickly, and although Satan can’t see either of your faces due to the side angle, even he has to acknowledge that the two of you really do look like a couple.

“It’s not like that,” Satan mumbles, shaking his head as he hands the phone back to Solomon.

This might be the first time, though, that he actually entertains the thought of what it would be if it was like that.

It’s not a terrible thought.

You hate away-scrimmages for a lot of reasons.

The first reason is that, more often than not, the environment is hostile. The other team is always bound to have more support, more cheering, more motivation powering them forward while yours has nothing more than the girls on the bench and the loud voice of your coach.

The second reason is that they always feel like a waste of time. Scrimmages, by nature, are meant to be an extension of practice. So what’s the point of a scrimmage if you spend more time driving to the school than you spend playing against the school? It’s totally backwards, in your opinion, and pretty stupid.

The third reason is the most compelling reason, though. And it’s probably because this is the issue you’re dealing with right now: the fact that at away-scrimmages, if there does happen to be someone from your school who puts in the time and effort to come watch, the pressure on your shoulders instantly triples. Scrimmages are supposed to be fun, enjoyable. They’re nothing more than practice matches to collect data and get ready for when you’ll go against the school for real—but when people from your school travel such a long distance to watch you play not even a game but a scrimmage, it feels like you owe it to them to bring home a win, to succeed, to make the match worth their while.

And while Satan doubtlessly had no intentions of adding to your stress when he asked to watch you play at today's scrimmage, that’s exactly what has happened.

“Listen, girls,” your voice is low as your team groups up in what will likely be the last huddle of the match. “I want us to win this. Really badly. Do what it takes, but bring home that victory.” You take a moment to recite the weaknesses of the other team, trying to downplay their skill and build confidence in your own teammates, but ultimately, you all know the truth. “It all comes down to how we play this point, girls, so let’s play our best.”

You glance around at your teammates, stealing a glance at the bleachers where Satan sits, watching the scrimmage.

You want to make him proud.

“Wolves on three: one, two, three—”

“Wolves!” your teammates echo, raising their fists as the lot of you split off into your serve receive positions.

As it stands, match point is weighing against you, and your team is at a heavy disadvantage. From what you’ve gathered on the opposing team, their libero is a literal legend when it comes to front row saves, and they have an amazing right-side hitter, one that easily rivals your own skill. This entire game, their team has been leading, but all your team needs to secure victory is a measly three points, three points that you know you can obtain if you try hard enough.

You crouch low, getting ready for the opposing team’s serve.

The first two points are easy for your team to get: the first point comes when the opposing team’s outside hitter rams the ball into the net, and the second comes when your team's right-side hitter manages a clean hit through a line of defense that jumped a second too late.

The final point, as always, is the hardest to get.

It just so happens that it’s your serve, so you consciously aim at what you think is the weakest link in the opposing team, but they’re able to recover. From then on, it’s an intense volley back and forth until it’s just you versus the right-side hitter, #18, the two of you fighting it out in a rhythmic contest of pass-set-hit that just won’t end.

It’s at this time that you feel the pressure beating down on you heavier than ever before. More than anything, you want to win. Not just because you’re naturally competitive, not just because you really fucking hate #18 right now (seriously, what business does she have being as good as you?), but because you know that Satan is watching.

You really, really, really want to bring home a win for him.

It’s to this thought that you set the ball over on the first touch, sabotaging the flow of the game and ruining the other team’s momentum.

It happens in slow motion as the ball falls, slowly, slowly.

The entire room seems to hold its breath as three girls on the opposing team, #18 included, all pancake-dive for the ball. Sensing their success, you bend your knees, preparing for the ball’s return.

It never comes.

The blow of the ref’s whistle is surreal, almost as faraway as the subsequent cheers of your own team, so empty and distant as they instantly group up for a team tackle—but for the first time, you don’t join them.

Instead, you’re left staring up at Satan who, from his spot on the bleachers, is grinning down at you with a proud look on his face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy to win a scrimmage.

Everything else passes by in a blur. Your team regroups and changes out of your uniforms, and the lot of you board the bus that’s set to bring you back to the Royal Academy of Barbatos.

You, however, stay back.

“I’ll get a ride from my tutor,” you tell your coach, bidding farewell to your friends.

The man arches an eyebrow at you, asking once and then twice if you’re certain you don’t want to stay with the team, but you nod your head.

Weird, you think as you go to find Satan, who’s waiting for you at his car. This must be the first time I’ve prioritized someone else over the team.

You decide not to dwell on that thought.

Instead, you choose to think about how sick Satan’s ride is.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, gawking as soon as you see the car. “Satan, I knew you were loaded, but I had no clue you were this loaded.”

Satan laughs at your reaction, grinning when you can do nothing but stand and stare at the sheer beauty of it: a slick, black Bugatti with a single green stripe down the middle.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” you coo, marveling at the interior when you slide into the passenger seat and slug your volleyball bag unceremoniously in the back. “Satan, I think I like this car better than I like you.”

The blonde gives a short laugh, rolling his eyes as he gets inside next to you. “I’ll let you drive it someday,” he offers.

You’re quick to decline, shuddering to think about how many more sports scholarships you’d need to ever pay such a thing off if you were to crash it.

Satan can only smile at that, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“Your match was amazing, by the way,” he says before you can probe him about what he said. “It looked really intense. It’s impressive that you were able to keep a level head even at the end.”

You don’t tell Satan that your head wasn’t level, that you were practically dizzy with fear from the possibility of losing in front of him.

“It comes with practice,” you instead choose to say. “Something we’ve gotta do tonight!”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

You shoot Satan an innocent smile in response.

“Your match lasted a good hour, and I saw you practicing with your team before your bus left.” Satan shakes his head, a frown beginning to spread across his lips. “You’re going to destroy your muscles if you try to do any more. Even you need to rest.”

“Yeah, but resting is boring.” You lean back in your seat and stare at your palms. “Besides, that scrimmage was way too close for comfort. Didn’t you see number eighteen? She was, like, really good. If both our teams make it to the state tournament, we’re going to have a lot of trouble dealing with her unless we practice like crazy until then.”

“Exactly,” Satan says. “Your team needs to practice, not you. The best thing you can do for them is relax and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.”

“But don't you want to reward me for getting a good grade on my Shakespeare test?” A smile curls onto your lips because you know that's something Satan has been thinking about. “Come on, just a few balls? It’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to try a few moves out.”

Satan lets out an exasperated sigh that lets you know he’s agreeing.

“Yes!” You exclaim, resisting the urge to jump out of your seat and hug him because he probably won't be as inclined to help you if you make him crash his car. “Thank you so much, Satan! I won’t be long, I promise!”

The blonde doesn’t say anything to that, sighing softly as he switches his destination from the student parking lot to the on-campus gym you usually conduct your practice sessions in. It takes a while, but when the two of you get there, the spot Satan pulls into is far from the doors. It's a necessity since all the other spots are taken, but it makes you raise an eyebrow because this is the first time you’ve seen this gym even remotely filled up.

You nudge Satan out of his car regardless.

“Alright, so today I want you to make my tosses higher than normal. Number eighteen was taller than me, so I’ll need to increase my jump height if I want to be able to break past her defense.” You pull him to the door, wasting no time to get inside. “And don’t worry if your tosses aren’t perfect! It’ll be good practice for...for when…”

Your train of thought is disrupted when you see how packed the gym is.

“Damn,” Satan mumbles next to you, frowning.

There must be some kind of athletic event coming up. That's the only explanation you can think of for the picture in front of you. As it stands, there are tons of students inside this gym, everyone practicing their own sport. It’s ridiculous, honestly, because even sports that are traditionally outdoors are practicing inside. You can see Solomon leading his soccer team through a few drills on the far side of the court, taking up one half of one of the six nets set up in the gym.

“They must be here because it’s so muddy outside. All the outdoor sports are practicing inside.” Satan crosses his arms. “Let’s come back tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to get an effective practice in.”

“No!” you immediately exclaim, if only because you see a group of people setting up to leave. “Look, we can take that side of the court. Let’s go! I don’t want someone else to get there first.”

It’s a bit harder to find a spare cart of volleyballs than it was to find a spot to practice, but after checking enough supply rooms, you finally find what you’re looking for. After that, it takes you all of two minutes to wheel the cart over to Satan where you present your findings to him proudly.

“Shouldn’t you stretch first?” He frowns. “I don’t want you to get injured.”

“Come on, Satan. I just came back from a match! My muscles are all loosened up, so let’s get straight into it! The faster we can get this done, the faster we can return to the dorm, so let’s hurry!”

The boy doesn’t look wholly convinced, but he acquiesces to your request nonetheless, throwing you a toss higher than usual as you jump to slam it down.

It’s only once the two of you have returned to your usual rhythm that you begin to feel the stretch in your thighs, and for a moment, you stop to consider the fact that it might have been better if you’d stretched after all, but you ultimately decide that you’ve already started so there’s no point in stopping.

The practice whizzes by, as usual. It's almost pitiful how quickly the end of it nears.

“Three more balls,” Satan says, glancing at the number of balls left in the cart. “Then we go back, alright?”

“Sure thing!” you exclaim with pride, the familiar sense of satisfaction after a practice session well-done setting in.

Satan tosses you the third-last ball, and your feet begin following it as soon as it leaves his fingers. Your feet follow a familiar pattern—left, right, left, jump!—and you force yourself to put in a little bit of extra power to increase the height of your jump, letting your palm collide with the ball just a few inches beneath the peak of the arc to let it slam onto the court at an angle so steep that even a reinforced defense wouldn’t have been able to save it.

“Perfect!” you shout the moment your feet land on the floor. “Two more like that, and we’re set!”

Even Satan can’t hold off a smile at that.

Already in-tune with you, he doesn’t bother asking if you’re ready before throwing the next ball into the air.

Again, you go through the motions that have been ingrained into your muscle memory since you were eight years old. The sting of pain against your palm is familiar, too familiar, and you’re still high in your jump when the ball spikes down onto the floor.

What isn’t familiar is the immediate calls of concern from across the court.

Everything seems to happen in slow motion.

You turn your head to the source of the noise, the loud group of soccer players who are on the far side of the gym and are all shouting to watch out. You stare at them in confusion for a moment, squinting to look for what they're all pointing at, because right now you don’t see anything to watch out for, and why—

Your eyebrows furrow.

Why are they all looking at you?

That thought is the only warning you get before your feet land—and the first thing you realize is that you landed way too early, that you should have been in the air for longer given the height of your jump. That’s when you realize that you haven’t landed, that your foot is instead twisting on top of a soccer ball that’s rolled directly underneath you.

Your hands go out to catch yourself when you fall, but there’s nothing you can do about the swell of pain that bursts from your ankle when the soccer ball pops out from underneath you.

There’s a moment of trepidation, a single second where your body is completely suspended in the air, and the gym is silent.

In that quiet moment, you hear Satan call out your name in a terrified voice.

Then, the ground collides with you and hard, and there’s nothing you can do as the pain you’d been feeling earlier blossoms out from all parts of your body.

MASTERLIST

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | ✎

Word count: 4.2k

Notes: ive returneddd :D this chapter is dedicated to the vball captain who, in my freshman year of high school, injured herself. her injury was more dramatic, given that it was way more severe and it was during an important match, but irene, i carry you in my heart <3

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

#Word count: 4.2k #obey me! shall we date?#satan x reader #obey me satan #obey me solomon #reader has personality #volleyball athlete reader #slice of life #friendship #friends to best friends to lovers #human au #high school au #college au #slow burn #extremely slow slow burn #requited feelings #crushes #gonna be *wholesome*#mild swearing

53 notes · View notes

yeocult · 4 years

Text

ATEEZ as students studying

HONGJOONG:

king of self-care! but studies for 15 minutes then take a 2 hour break and calls it self-care (omg he thinks he’s me or smth)

has power naps every single day at least 30 mins because he’s Stressed

always thinking of ways to drop out during the middle of lectures

that one kid that talks to nobody & sits at the back of the class with his hood on to hide his airpods

doesn’t do it anymore bc one time it disconnected and “there’s some whores in this house” blasted out loud & now he’s paranoid

shows up to group studies but lets the group carry him,,, but he puts out One Really good idea to get his name on the paper

only cares about topics he’s interested in, other than that he’s just astral projecting

“yo can you send me your answers so i can compare mine?” but he copies it and says “we got the same answers” (all men do is lie</3)

calculates his marks; “ok so i need at least a 80 on this...oh wait no, a 95...damn okay...”

the type to arrives late with ice coffee

SEONGHWA:

wakes up at 5 am to study instead of staying up

scented candles and lofi music for the ~studying mood~

a linguistic learner

learns best by teaching others so he’ll do group studies often to help other people

teaches people without making them feel dumb

uses grammarly for his emails with 3 paragraphs asking 1 question with a proper greeting and a ‘sincerely, park seonghwa’

professor: ok - sent from iphone

you’ll never see him during exams week, he’s Gone

a loyal user of the outline method

his desk must be cleared at all times! a clean workspace makes it easier to focus

brings extra pencil just in case anyone needs them bc he’s the sweetest person ever (he’s fully aware that he’ll never get them back but it’s okay bc sharing is caring)

does his readings on time (you’ll never catch him slacking)

actually has his shit together for the most part 1/2

YUNHO:

writes “i love you” or “sorry” at the end of his tests (that he bombed)

the type to ask you to print “just one thing real quick” and it’s 15 page and at 2 am

uses emojis like :D & \(^o^)/ when sending emails to his professors

has a bad habit of copying word for word on the slide and he doesn’t actually understand/learn anything

goes to the library bc he thinks that’ll help him be in the ~studying vibe~

it doesn’t. ends up texting or watching youtube gameplay

has never heard of the colour-coding system in his entire life and ends up with a page filled with neon highlight

snacks breaks are the only thing keeping him Normal

leaves himself an encouraging note at the end of the reading page so when he’s finished he feels good !!

friends with all of the professors and uses all office hours

strongest points are his guessing skills in multiple-choice questions (process of elimination ftw!)

he tries his best, doesn’t care about marks that much because he knows it doesn’t determine him (and he’s right!)

YEOSANG:

probably runs a studyblr/gram

has the cutest note ever, his handwriting is so pretty!!

he thinks that buying an ipad pro & apple pencil will make him smarter

likes it bc he can doodle on it then erase them easily :”)

has to wear blue ray glasses because of how he looks at a screen so much

mildliners, muji 0.38 gel pen, 6 ring binder, minimal planner, washi tapes, you name it! he visits muji and daiso every other week

buys wayyy too many planners and notebooks which he never ends up using

only uses pastel mildliners because they’re easy on the eyes. cringes every time he sees yunho’s highlighters v_v

his flaw is that he spends 10 mins writing his header with brush tip pens

mutes the group project gc but gets his part done like the good classmate he is

sweats every time he gets an assignment back, takes a whole ten minute to mentally prepare himself

a visual learner; makes mind maps, flow charts, etc

actually has a working printer that he uses pretty often to prints lessons before class just to be Extra prepare

tells everyone he slept well but his bullet journal habit tracker for sleep says otherwise (plz rest!!)

exclusively uses college ruled paper like the sane person he is

SAN:

uses wide-ruled paper (unfortunately not everyone is perfect</3)

starts off very positive, motivated, and organized

then everything goes downhill by the second week

will definitely set byeol on top of his keyboard, take a picture, and send it to his professor as an ‘excuse’ as why he needs an extension (it works)

can’t sit still for any longer than 30 mins, his legs are always bouncing or fidgeting with pen

flashcard king! spends a lot of time on them but it’s worth it

a utensil chewer (always willing to share his pencil but when ppl saw the bite marks they’re like No Thanks >_>)

can’t study well with groups or himself bc he’ll be distracted,,, so he needs one person that can ground him bc when they’re in the zone, he will too be on his x game mode

sends his assignment at 11:58 pm hoping his professor will take the Hint (plz don’t be afraid to ask for help u_u)

prefers listening to ghibli studio soundtracks but then he either gets emotional or sleepy

sometimes forget to mute his mic and we just hear him groaning in frustration

“haha sorry i just stubbed my toe...”

then mutes his mic and goes back to his mental breakdown

MINGI:

the only person that studies every single day just to get his brain used to the information and running

probably listens to anime op or edm music for that Energy Boost

everyone either hates or love him because...

1. loves him bc he always comes clutched with study guides (and willing to share if he likes you enough)

2. he’s good at everything even if he’s not paying attention/doing it last minute

just naturally good at retaining information and applying them

asks Big Brain question that even the professors are shook

sometimes he gets super into the topic and wants to know Everything

“i’ve never failed an exam in my life” and he’s right! big brain mingi

fetal flaw is that he forgets easily (hence why the last minute) and has to write on his palm as a reminder

clicks his pens All the time so he switched to pens with caps just to keep others from jumping him

takes naps 10 mins before classes

actually has his shit together for the post part 2/2

“if no one got me, i know khan academy and quizlet got me. can i get an amen”

WOOYOUNG:

y’all know that one mf that doesn’t have a pencil?

yea he’s been using the same one someone lend to him before a test and never returned it

it’s been two months and it’s still working well and they’re never going to get it back

a minimalist,,,, but in a bad way</3 bc he carries his stolen pencil and paper that he spilled his energy drink over and that’s about it

just throw loose papers in his bag and forgets about their existence

doesn’t do binders or notebooks, just crumbled up paper

sometimes carries a textbook just to show everyone that he’s got his life together

really noisy for No reason, always wants to know other’s marks

a kinesthetic learner

hides his screen with he gets the kahoot questions wrong (you’ll never catch him slippin)

plays coolmathgames.com during class

doesn’t really know what to study/prioritize so he overwhelms himself with every single topic ever

thinks he’s god by pulling an all-nighter to look at the 60+ slides last minute

Swears he’ll change and do better next semester,,,</3

goes to the cafe, takes pictures of his notes & laptop, post it on his story, then leaves

JONGHO:

thrives off of red bull and ice americanos

gets notes and study guides from his upperclassmen because everyone loves jongho

an audio learner so he’ll probably work out or go on a jog while listening to lessons/audiobook

never pulls all-nighters bc it messes up his sleep schedule and says he’ll do it in the morning but he never does

doesn’t even own a highlighter, he’ll circle or underline stuff with a red or black pen

has never touched a textbook in his life

only the study guides and slides, his textbook is collecting dust rn

his notes are literally Only for him because his handwriting only makes sense to him

has questionable handwriting,,, it’s like decoding

multitasks a lot but it ends up taking a lot longer than he wanted to (bc it’s a myth)

very spontaneous; he’ll grind for 5 hours straight but sometimes he won’t even touch a pencil

works best when he talks about the work in groups and share information with each other, like having a convo about the topic

unmutes his mic Once after the lesson to say “bye”

does his work right after the lessons but then takes a short break & doesn’t even Look back for the rest of the night

a/n: tag yourself ! i’m a bit of hohong (i projected myself on all of them in some way lmaooo)

146 notes · View notes

ofbardsandmonsters · 3 years

Text

Fill for square N3 - “free space” for the @stb-bingo. read it on ao3 here

This is fill number 5 for me AND it gives me my first BINGO!!

***

“Do you have your inhaler?”

“Yes.”

“What about the backup inhaler?”

“Ned has it.”

“Did you pack clean underwear?”

“Dad, come on. Of course I did.”

“How many pairs?”

“Dad.”

Tony holds up both hands, smiling at Peter, who scowls back. But Tony refuses to be sorry for worrying about his only son going on his first overnight field trip. It’s been just the two of them since before Peter was even born. And this would be the first time they’d been apart more than a few hours in fifteen years. So even if he wasn’t an omega, Tony feels like he’d be entitled to a little parental panic.

Peter’s phone beeps, and he glances at it before zipping up his backpack and slipping it onto his back. “Ned and his parents are here.”

The elevator opens without prompting, and the two Starks ride it down to the ground floor. Tony can see the Leeds’s car sitting at the curb, and Ned jumps out of the car as soon as they approach. The two boys perform some complicated handshake that even Tony’s genius brain can’t follow. He rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at the boys’ obvious bond, and goes around to the driver’s side to finalize details for picking up the boys at the school in a couple days with Ned’s father.

He’s standing on the curb with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, watching the Leeds’s car drive away, when his assistant Darcy comes up beside him. The beta’s got a tablet in her hands, a sight that always means it’s time for him to actually do some work. And with Peter gone for the next several days, she won’t be letting Tony get away with using him as an excuse.

“Kiddo all packed off? Gonna be weird without him underfoot.”

Tony snorts. “You love having him underfoot. You spoil him almost as much as I do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis. My mistake. What’s on my agenda for this morning?”

Darcy follows him back into the tower, pulling open his schedule on her tablet as they walk to the elevator. “You have three meetings before lunch. R & D requested you for a demo at 2:30. Tonight is your monthly visit to Maria Stark House, Colonel Rhodes is meeting you there at six to help serve dinner.”

The last item on the agenda makes warmth spread through his chest. He had established the Maria Stark House for Omegas during his pregnancy with Peter, and once a month he goes over to help cook and serve dinner to the residents and their children. Most of the men and women living there have been recently separated from their alphas, whether by death or by choice, and have no support system to catch them. Many are in various stages of pregnancy, and some come with small children clinging to them. The Maria Stark House provides support and housing either until the baby is born or until they’re back on their feet.

It’s his pride and joy, other than Peter of course.

As he and Darcy approach his office, Tony can see a tall figure in what appears to be military dress through the frosted glass of the windows. “Darcy, why is there someone in my office already?”

“That would be your 8:00. The new army liaison? He’s been waiting a little while, but I told him you had a personal matter that needed attending to and he seemed perfectly content to wait.”

Tony groans, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling before scrubbing his hands over his face. “Rhodey just had to go and get that promotion. Couldn’t be happy spending the rest of his career as our liaison.”

“Do I need to remind you how much you cried at the ceremony? I’m sure I could get JARVIS to project the video on the nearest wall if you just—”

“Nope! No, I’m good, thank you Darcy. But you know how I feel about the military. Bunch of puffed up alpha assholes with an overinflated sense of importance.” Obviously his assistant didn’t know the full story behind Tony’s disdain for anyone in a uniform that wasn’t Rhodey, but she understood nonetheless.

“I’m well aware of your feelings, Tony. But if you want to continue providing tech and armor and medical supplies to the military, then we need a liaison. Just go in, get to know the guy a little, and then I’ll swoop in and save you and send him on his way. Okay?”

Tony sighs, deflating a little as he nods.

“Good. Now, before you go in there, hold still.” Tucking her tablet under one arm, Darcy steps into his space to straighten his tie and smooth out wrinkles in his jacket that only she can see. Then she slides her fingers into his hair to tousle the silvering strands. She steps back with her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork before nodding in satisfaction.

“Want to tell me what that was about, Miss Lewis?”

“Captain Hottie in there is an entire buffet. And you’ve been starving for way too long, boss man.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at the younger beta. “Darcy, I cannot sleep with our liaison. Pepper would string me up by my toes, and Peter is too young to be without a father. Besides, no hotshot army alpha is going to want to waste his time on an aging omega with a teenager.”

“You’re not aging, Tony, jeez. You’re thirty-five.” Darcy’s blue eyes soften, and she reaches out to squeeze his arm. “Look, I know Peter is your entire world, yadda yadda yadda. We all love him. But you deserve some happiness too.”

Before he can respond, she turns him around and nudges him toward his office door, slapping his ass with a resounding crack. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger!”

He glares at her over his shoulder, watching her stalk off on her criminally high heels, probably on her way to torture some poor unsuspecting interns. When she disappears around the corner, he turns back to his office and takes a fortifying breath. Whoever this guy is, Tony isn’t going to let himself be intimidated. He’s Tony Stark. And Stark men are made of iron.

The door opens silently as he steps inside. “Sorry to keep you waiting, captain. I had something that needed to be sorted and it couldn’t wait, so I—”

The other occupant of the room turns around, and it feels like time stops. Between one breath and the next, Tony’s twenty years old again, a positive pregnancy test in his pocket and excitement to share the news with his alpha swelling in his chest. Excitement that dies a swift and fiery death just minutes later when the alpha breaks his heart and walks out the door.

The very same alpha standing across from him in full military dress, hands in his pockets, shifting nervously.

“Hey, Tony.”

Even after all this time, Tony still knows Steve Rogers’s face better than his own. How could he ever forget, when he’s spent the last fifteen years seeing those features reflected in his son’s face? A son that he’s spent nearly two decades raising alone.

Tony does the only logical thing.

He bolts.

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

Darcy finds him twenty minutes later in the hidden corner of his workshop that only a select few people have access to. He hears the click of her heels first, before she comes around the corner and inputs her code. The glass doors to the restricted area slide open, and she spots Tony easily where he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest. She crouches until they’re eye to eye. He’ll never figure out how she manages to execute a perfect squat in those heels.

“Hey, boss. Did the meeting with Captain Hotpants go that bad? JARVIS said you turned tail and ran almost immediately. What gives?”

Tony drops his head against his knees, trying to hide the way tears have started to gather in his eyes at just the mention of Steve. But he knows Darcy’s not going to let it go, and no one else sees through his lies and misdirects the way she does. So he tries to form some kind of coherent response, but all that comes out is, “Peter’s father.”

“What does that worthless nothing have to do with this?”

He clears his throat, gathering his courage to actually look his assistant in the eyes. “It’s him. The-the guy. The liaison, it’s… he’s Peter’s father.”

Darcy rears back like he just punched her in the gut, and she stares at him in wide-eyed shock for a minute. Her features soften as she shifts onto her knees and reaches out with both hands to grip his shoulders. “Oh, Tony. Wow, what a shock. That is some kind of wild—”

A strange look crosses her face before she picks her tablet up off of the floor and starts scrolling through it. As she reads, Darcy’s face slowly changes from confused to startled before her pretty features twist into a mask of rage. It’s a look Tony very rarely sees on her face, and it makes him sit up straight.

“Darcy? What is it?”

He hears a low growl, and that’s how he knows she’s really pissed off. Betas don’t growl like omegas and alphas do, not unless they’re pushed over the edge. His instincts kick in, helpless against the clear distress of someone he cares about, and soft soothing noises emanate from his throat.

It takes the younger woman a few minutes to compose herself, but eventually her scent shifts from furious to simple anger. She takes a breath, and then hands Tony the tablet. It’s open to the file on Steve they’d received from the army rep that had arranged the appointment to SI military liaison. He browses it, but nothing that could explain her anger pops out. When he looks back up at her, confused, she taps on a note at the bottom.

“He requested this position. I didn’t think anything of it when I read the file the first time, just assumed he was a career guy who was sick of combat and wanted something more cushy. And the rep said he thought Rogers was a perfect candidate. Tony, if I thought for even a second that he had an ulterior motive I would have made sure he couldn’t get within even a thousand feet of the building, I swear.”

Tony doesn’t respond at first, too busy reading and rereading the rep’s note. Captain Rogers entered his own name into the running for this assignment before we could even gather a list of acceptable candidates, but it is my personal opinion that he would make an ideal candidate for army liaison. Why in the hell had Steve suddenly decided he wanted a position that would force him to work alongside the omega he had abandoned fifteen years ago?

He was damn sure going to find out.

“JARVIS, is St… Captain Rogers still in the building?”

“Yes, sir. Captain Rogers is still in your office.”

“Good, keep him there.”

He pushes off the wall and stands up, Darcy following with a whole lot more grace, and he hands her back the tablet. She watches him straighten his jacket and do his best to smooth out his hair that’s gone wild from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it.

“Tony, are you sure it’s a good idea to confront him right now? You’re upset, and I don’t need the entire building gossiping about another one of your shouting matches with an alpha.”

“I’m good, I’m fine. I’m going to walk in there, calmly, ask him what his game is and then tell him to get the fuck out. Piece of cake.”

Darcy’s entire face practically screams how much she doesn’t believe anything that he’s just said, but she doesn’t try to stop him. What she does is give JARVIS specific instructions once Tony’s out of earshot.

“JARVIS, blackout mode in the boss’s office as soon as he shuts the door.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis.”

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

Tony’s entire plan to be calm and mature goes out the window as soon as he walks back into his office and sees Steve standing there.

“Tony—”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Fifteen years, Steve. You walk out of my life like I meant nothing to you and I don’t hear from you for fifteen fucking years, and now you think you can just waltz in here like everything’s cool and just expect me to work alongside you? What the fuck, Steve?”

“No, Tony, that’s not—”

“I thought this was just some weird cosmic coincidence, the universe playing a joke on me. But you requested this position. Why? What the hell is your game?”

“There’s no game Tony, I wouldn’t—”

“Is this about Peter? We didn’t have to go through all this song and dance. I would have let you see him.”

“Peter? Your son, Peter? What does he have to do with—”

“Oh, don’t play stupid, Steve. It’s not a good look on you.”

“Tony, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would I be interested in your son?”

“Just because you’ve been off playing soldier for his entire life doesn’t mean you get to pretend he isn’t yours.”

Steve freezes, then sits down in one of the plush chairs across from Tony’s desk like he’s a marionette who’s just had all of his strings cut. He’s paler than normal, making his bright blue eyes stand out. “He’s… mine?” Steve’s always been a pretty terrible liar, so Tony knows the shock on his face is real. He sits down behind his desk, feeling similarly off-kilter.

“Of course he’s yours. I haven’t, um… I haven’t been with anyone else since… well, you. Raising Pete on my own was a full time job, I didn’t really have time for dating. He’s not really a secret, so I just assumed you knew he was yours.”

Across from him, Steve slumps in his chair, his gaze going far away. But after a minute or two, he seems to shake himself and he shifts forward, blue eyes locking on to Tony’s. “If I had known, I never would have let you go through all of that on your own, you have to believe me. I… why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Tony sighs, breaking eye contact. “I was going to. The day you… the day you left, I had the test in my pocket. I just… never got the chance. When the media got wind that I’d had a child and the news was everywhere, there was no word from you. So I assumed you wanted nothing to do with us.”

Steve looks stricken, and he scoots to the edge of the chair. Both hands reach out, almost like he wants to reach for Tony, but his strong fingers close around the edge of the desk. “Jesus. Tony, god, no. If I had known that Peter was my son, our son, nothing could have kept me away.”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said. Trust me, I remember everything I said. I’m never going to stop hating myself for hurting you like that. Every time I close my eyes, I can see that devastated look on your face. Tony, I’ve missed you every minute of the last fifteen years.”

“Then why—”

“Because I wasn’t good enough for you!”

Tony flinches back like he’s been slapped, and he’s not sure which of them is more surprised by Steve’s outburst. But his surprise quickly twists into anger. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“No, Tony. It’s not. You were so far out of my league, in every way possible, and your father took every opportunity he could find to remind me of it. And I was able to brush it off for a while, but it kept building and building until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Steve, I never thought that. You were everything I wanted and—”

Steve is out of his seat and around to Tony’s side of the desk before he can even think about what he’s doing and whether it’s appropriate or not, his instincts leading him as he recognizes the scent of distressed omega. He sits on the edge and reaches out to tug the smaller man up and against his chest. Surprisingly, Tony goes without resistance.

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to keep him out of my head.”

“You should have talked to me.”

“I know.”

“My parents died a year after you left, Steve. Why didn’t you come back?”

Steve sighs, pulling the omega tighter against his chest until his scent starts to soften into something less harsh. “I couldn’t. The idea that I needed to be a better alpha for you was so deep into my brain that I couldn’t shake it. I had to keep pushing, keep working towards higher ranks until I felt worthy. And… part of me thought I would never reach it, not after the way I’d treated you.”

He feels a sharp jab to his chest, and Steve leans back a little to rub at the spot and pout down at Tony, who’s glaring at him.

“You were always worthy, you big stupid alpha. All you had to do was love me to be worthy. I was the one who was lucky that you took a chance on such a messy, broken omega.”

Steve lets out a fierce growl that echoes through the room. He shifts his hands to cradle Tony’s face. “There is nothing messy or broken about you. And I know I don’t deserve it, but if you’d let me, I will spend every minute of the rest of my life showing you.”

Tony shudders at the promise in the alpha’s voice, and he presses his face against Steve’s chest to hide the tears gathering in his eyes. “I shouldn’t. Pepper’s gonna kill me. Rhodey’s gonna kill you. And Peter will be an orphan before he turns sixteen. But…”

He looks up at Steve, and lets his hands come up to twist in the material of the alpha’s starched green jacket. “I don’t wanna do this without you, Steve. I’ve done it alone for fifteen years and I can’t anymore. Not if there’s an option to do it as a team. It’s gonna take work, and you have to give me time to trust you again. I want to, but you have to show me that you won’t hurt me again, Steve.”

Steve tugs him close again, leaning down to press a kiss into his dark curls. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Brilliant, strong omega. Raising a kid i running a company, all on your own? You’re perfect. How did I ever give you up?”

He can feel Tony trembling against his chest, so Steve shifts them around until he’s sitting in Tony’s ridiculously large desk chair and can pull the omega into his lap. Tony lets out an audible sigh, and Steve chuckles when he feels nimble fingers start unbuttoning the large buttons on his dress coat. He doesn’t resist, letting the omega push it off his shoulders and tug it free of his arms. When the coat is off, Steve wraps his arms around Tony and hugs him tight to his chest.

“This better, Tony?”

The brunette nods, and it isn’t long before Steve’s ears pick up the sound of Tony purring softly. The grin that splits his face makes his cheeks hurt.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Steve basking in the warm, comfortable scent of happy and content omega. This was more than he ever could have hoped for. When he requested the assignment to SI as the army liaison, he had only dared to hope that Tony would talk to him. Never could he guess that he would have Tony curled up against him like this, especially not after his initial reaction to seeing Steve after so long. And now, he thinks there’s only one thing that could make this better.

“Hey, Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I… Peter. Can I meet him? You don’t have to tell him who I am right away, I just… I want to get to know him if I can.”

Tony tries to sit up, but Steve tightens his hold, and he settles back down with an amused huff. “Of course you can meet him. He’s your son too, and he deserves to know both his dads. He’s in DC on a field trip for a few days, but I’ve already got a couple days blocked off in my schedule when he gets back. The three of us can spend that time together.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to get in the way—”

“You won’t be. You’re going to love him, Steve. He’s so smart, and strong and brave and good. He’s the best parts of both of us. JARVIS, give us some pictures up on the wall, please?”

A slideshow of pictures projects onto the empty wall across from them, starting from Peter’s birth and slowly moving year by year. Steve can’t help the tears that form as he watches the little boy, his little boy, grow up.

“He’s beautiful, Tony. I can already tell what an amazing job you’ve done with him. I can’t wait to get to know him. And get to know you again.”

After the pictures, JARVIS starts up some of the home movies Tony’s taken of Peter over the years. Gradually, Steve can feel the omega growing more and more relaxed against him. He loses track of how much time passes before Tony speaks again.

“You’re fired, by the way.”

Steve barks out a laugh, looking down at Tony, whose eyes are still watching the video currently playing on the wall. “What do you mean, I’m fired?”

“It seems unprofessional for you to technically be an SI employee if you’re going to be sleeping with the head of the company.”

One large, calloused finger hooks under Tony’s chin and tips his head back so Steve can meet his eyes. “Tony, I want to make it clear that this isn’t just about sleeping together. When you’re ready, after I’ve groveled and worshipped you and done everything I can to earn back your trust and your love, I want to be your alpha. I want us to be a family. Permanently.”

Steve’s declaration is so serious, so clearly heartfelt and earnest, there’s nothing stopping Tony from melting completely. He surges forward, capturing Steve’s lips in a kiss that’s fifteen years overdue. The alpha startles and freezes in shock, but he returns the kiss before Tony has even a fraction of a chance to second guess it.

The kiss only lasts a handful of seconds, but it leaves both of them dazed and grinning like fools. Tony settles back down against Steve’s chest, and together they watch the memories that Tony had captured play out on the wall, the room overflowing with the scents of warm and happy alpha and omega.

Darcy comes searching for Tony an hour later when he doesn’t show up for his second meeting of the morning. JARVIS directs her to the office, where she finds the two men deeply asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

“JARVIS, snap a picture of that, please.”

“My pleasure, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy still plans to threaten the good captain, viciously, with her sharpest pair of stilettos. But her love for Tony goes far beyond the care of an employee for her boss. Tony is the older brother she never had, and his happiness—and Peter’s— means more to her than the joy she derives from threatening alphas bigger than her and watching them cower.

With a swipe of her finger, she clears the rest of Tony’s schedule, and heads down the hallway to her own office to await the email from Pepper requesting an explanation that she knows will be on the way before too long.

When her computer dings, she sends off her response with just one sentence.

I promise you, it’s worth it.

#stony #stony fic #stb bingo

25 notes · View notes

dreamiehrs · 3 years

Text

a Christmas miracle ➛ z.cl

genre: fluff, comedy/crack, bestfriend!chenle, gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort somewhat

pairing: zhong chenle x reader

word count: 2,588 words

warning(s): some swearing

summary: Christmas had been the same old same old holiday for you and your family for plenty of years now, fully embracing the tradition of meeting up with family, exchanging presents, and enjoying each other’s presence on Christmas day. however, this year seemed to feel quite different, with your family quite literally forgetting that Christmas even existed, and with you all stuck in your apartment alone in the snowy city, you weren’t so sure what you were going to do for Christmas this year. unbeknownst to you, though, your sneaky best friend had a trick up his sleeve, and he was determined to make this Christmas one you’ll remember forever.

note: this is a part of mylin’s @suh-insane and sunny’s @neocitybynight Walking in a Winter Wonderland collab! this is my first time participating in a collab solely for Christmas, so I hope you all enjoy this fic of mine! Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it! I hope you all have an amazing and safe Christmas this year, and I just wanted to let you all know that I appreciate and love you guys so so SO much! (and to the people who don’t celebrate it, I still hope you all have a wonderful day nonetheless!)

prompts chosen: “when we finally kiss goodnight how I’ll hate going out in the storm! but if you’ll really hold me tight all the way home I’ll be warm.” + “that’s what Christmas memories are made from. they’re not planned; they’re not scheduled. nobody puts them in their blackberry. they just happen.”

for the past few months, time seemed to fly by without leaving a trace behind, and before you knew it, it was already Christmas day. if it was any other year, you would’ve woken up earlier, around 6 AM to be precise, and start your trek to your parents house with their gifts in hand. however, since your parents and the rest of your family got caught up in other ordeals, and quite literally forgot that Christmas even existed, you had woken up quite later than 6 AM. 9 AM, if you were being specific.

you had still bought your family presents for Christmas, of course, and took the time to wrap them and spiffy them up yourself with various different kinds of Christmas wrapping paper you’ve collected over the years as a pro wrapper (in actuality, it was just your mother giving you extra wrapping paper when she accidentally bought too much, so you weren’t entirely a pro wrapper, per se). what you were trying to say is that you put a lot of thought into buying and decorating presents for your family, and you were sort of down about how you wouldn’t be able to give them their presents in person this year.

basically, what you were trying to get across is that you quite literally had no plans for Christmas this year, and you were probably going to spend your entire day wailing away in your apartment.

nonetheless, you pulled yourself out of bed after being in deep thought for thirty minutes straight, and decided to actually not wail away in your apartment for the rest of the day. it was time to be festive, you thought to yourself, as you slowly made your way around your room to move your curtains aside to let some sunlight seep in. although you were in a brooding mood, you didn’t entirely want your room to reflect that.

you huff to yourself as you slide your feet against the carpet floor, swinging open your closet doors and glancing over all of your clothes, none of them really catching your attention. you sigh before closing both of your closet doors dramatically, turning around and heading towards your dresser. you can faintly hear your phone buzz on your nightstand as you pull on one of the knobs on one of your dresser drawers that contains your pajama pants. you grab a random pair of snug pajama pants and opt to keep the same pajama shirt you wore to bed last night on before heading to the bathroom to change.

after taking some time to get dressed and brush your teeth, you finally exit your bathroom and toss the pajama shorts you wore last night in your hamper. you snatch your phone and stash it in your pocket before making your way towards your miniature kitchen. you promptly grab your kettle and fill it up with water, waiting for it to reach the third line before placing it on your stove. you move the dial until its exactly on high temperature, and you’re about to start to make yourself breakfast until you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.

fed up with how active your phone had been for the past thirty minutes, you finally fish your phone out of your pocket and lean against the counter next to your stove.

your phone contained the usual notifications, such as Instagram likes, Team Snapchat sending you a Christmas snap, your best friend chenle spamming your phone- wait, your best friend chenle spamming your phone? that was FAR from your usual notifications, and you were honestly quite surprised that he was contacting you on Christmas day this year. he’s usually spending it with his family all day, and never texts you back until he gets back home, which is around eight PM.

without thinking, you unlock your phone and tap on the messages icon, and your jaw almost drops when you see how many messages he sent you within the past few hours. since 6 AM, chenle has sent you over one hundred messages, and for once, you were grateful that you were a heavy sleeper, because if you were a light sleeper and woke up to every single one of his messages, you would’ve lost your mind.

you [9:45 AM]: please chenle what do you WANT FROM ME

lele the dumdum [9:45 AM]: WOW YOU’VE FINALLY WOKEN UP FROM UR DEEP SLUMBER

lele the dumdum [9:45 AM]: I THOUGHT U WERE NEVER GOING TO WAKE UP

lele the dumdum [9:46 AM]: took u long enough smh

you [9:46 AM]: ...is this really how you’re going to treat me on Christmas day??

lele the dumdum [9:46 AM]: I treat you like this all the time. what makes you think that today’s gonna be any different?

you [9:47 AM]: …

lele the dumdum [9:47 AM]: anyways… MY GORGEOUS WONDERFUL BESTIE WHAT DO U HAVE PLANNED FOR CHRISTMAS TODAY

lele the dumdum [9:48 AM]: DO ANY OF UR PLANS INVOLVE ME POTENTIALLY COMING OVER??? O.O

you [9:48 AM]: is this why you’ve been spamming my phone SINCE 6 AM!?!?!

you [9:48 AM]: also why were you awake at 6 am anyways

you [9:49 AM]: did your crush finally text you back or are you still drowning in loneliness like usual

lele the dumdum [9:50 AM]: I don’t even have a crush??? who told you that false information

you [9:50 AM]: the little elves running around my house whispered it in my ear last night

lele the dumdum [9:51 AM]: I think you’re going to delusional

you [9:51 AM]: I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case at this point

lele the dumdum [9:51 AM]: MOVING ON

lele the dumdum [9:52 AM]: WHAT DO U HAVE PLANNED

lele the dumdum [9:52 AM]: I NEED TO KNOW THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT

you [9:53 AM]: me planning to wail in sorrow all day is very important to you??

lele the dumdum [9:53 AM]: ...excuse me what?? UR GOING TO WAIL IN SORROW ALL DAY ON CHRISTMAS DAY!?!?

lele the dumdum [9:54 AM]: this is not acceptable. I am coming over right now to spread some of my FESTIVENESS AND JOLLINESS with you :D

you [9:55 AM]: chenle you really don’t have to-

lele the dumdum [9:55 AM]: TOO BAD IM OMW RN AS WE SPEAK

you [9:56 AM]: at least bring some festivities, games, and snacks with you 🙄

lele the dumdum [9:56 AM]: oh shit you have a point

lele the dumdum [9:57 AM]: BRB ILL BE THERE IN 30

you knew that once chenle had made his mind up about something, he wasn’t going to change it that easily, so it would be futile to try and stop him now. you don't bother replying to his last message, and you shove your phone back in your pocket a few moments before your kettle whistles. you move on from chenle tormenting you for twelve minutes straight and make yourself some tea and breakfast instead.

it was now around 10:30 AM, and you had just finished digesting your breakfast when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket again. you were lying down on your small, beige couch, with your cold tea sat on the coffee table a few feet away. you were still in your pajamas, with no intent of changing into actual clothes anytime soon.

once again, you fish your phone out of your pocket to see what nonsense chenle was texting you this time.

lele the dumdum [10:31 AM]: open up, bitch

you [10:31 AM]: I thought I gave you a spare key??

lele the dumdum [10:32 AM]: shit I forgot it

lele the dumdum [10:32 AM]: anyways OPEN UP

you lazily lift yourself up from off of your couch, grasping your mug of cold tea on the way to the door. you take your time unlocking your door, halfly because you felt like annoying chenle, and halfly because you were just over today in general.

the first thing that stands out to you once you swing open your front door is how different your outfit looks compared to chenle. he was all bundled up with plenty of layers to keep him warm while adventuring the city, and meanwhile you adorned white and pink striped pajamas with socks on. you also noticed that he had a dark grey bookbag on his back, and was holding two full bags in his hands.

the two of you stare at each other for a few more seconds until chenle breaks the silence with: “I think this is the most I’ve seen you look like a complete old person. there have been other times, but the old person persona is just jumping out at me right now.”

you roll your eyes. “don’t say that when you yourself have dressed up as an old person before.”

“yeah, yeah,” he brushes you off, passing by you to slip his shoes off and to take off his five hundred layers. “it doesn’t matter whether you look like an old person, it mainly matters whether you have the spirit of an old person, you know?”

“I cannot comprehend your words this early in the morning. we can have a conversation about whether I act like an old person later.” you say as you watch him remove his large, dark green jacket and place it onto your coat rack. you can hear him scoff at your remark, and you grin as you see the corners of his mouth lift up slightly.

“early in the morning? y/n it’s only-” he pauses to check his phone “10:32 AM. that’s early for you?”

“I woke up at 9 AM, you dum.”

“oh,” he swivels around to face you after taking his shoes off and removing all of his additional layers. “makes sense, I guess. you’ve only been awake for an hour and a half, so you’re probably not fully awake yet. I mean, I’ve been awake since 6 am, and I’m bursting with energy compared to you.”

you give him a deadpan expression in response to what he said, and he can’t help but burst out laughing at your reaction. he steps up beside you and pats your shoulder gently. “well, besides that, I’m gonna be the one who helps you burst with energy like I am right now! follow me!” he whisper-shouts a few inches away from your ear, and you can feel his hand leave your shoulder and grasp your right hand in a matter of seconds.

he leads you back towards your couch, and even somehow manages to help you set your mug down even though he has bags in his hands. the two of you plop down on your couch, and you almost melt at how soft and comfortable your couch was. you closed your eyes for a few seconds as chenle rustled through his bags beside you, and you don’t know how much time has passed when chenle starts to snap his fingers at you.

“y/n, I am not going to deal with your sleepy ass right now. I spent around forty minutes scurrying around the city to find things to lift your mood, and I am not going to let those forty minutes go to waste just because you’re tired.”

you groan and roll to the other side, facing away from chenle. “just five more minutes…”

surprisingly, you’re met by silence in response to your wish of wanting five more minutes of rest, but that silence doesn’t last when you feel something cold touch your face.

you screech and immediately open your eyes to witness chenle pressing an ice cube onto your forehead. you swat the ice cube off of your forehead as quick as you can, and stare up at chenle like he’s gone completely mad. “what was that for?”

he grins proudly. his plan had worked. “awake now? great. now, help me figure out what we should do first.”

“I think you’ve gone mad. I cannot believe you just woke me up by pressing an ice cube onto my forehead.” you complain, still feeling the coldness of the ice cube on your forehead. when you finally move to face him now, you see that he had brought plenty of things for you two to entertain yourselves.

“I could’ve done worse things, like dip my hand into freezing water and press it against your face, but I was feeling generous today, so I decided to spare you the pain.”

you scoff. “right. anyways, what’d you bring?”

he glances at you excitedly before getting into it. “well, I brought plenty of snacks, some fizzy drinks, some board games, some movies I rented that we could watch together, some candy, etc. I honestly brought everything that I thought you would like with me, so I really hope all of this is enough to make your Christmas day a little bit more festive. I may have also bought you a present, but besides that… let’s get this party started! ...y/n?”

he tears his gaze away from the couch to up to your face, and you don’t entirely register that you’re crying until a few minutes after staring into his eyes. “oh, I’m sorry… I just… I’m just really grateful that you decided to come all this way to cheer me up on Christmas day, and you brought so many things with you as well to make me feel better so… thank you, chenle.”

he beams at you even though he can feel a tear threatening to fall from his left eye, and instead of letting you see him cry as well, he quickly wraps his arms around your figure, bringing you into a tight hug. “of course, y/n. you know I’d do anything for you, right? if you’re down, I’m going to cheer you up in some way, shape, or form, and if you feel like watching the world burn, then I’ll be right by your side.”

“awh, stop it, you’re going to make me cry even more.” you faintly hit his back with your hand, and he giggles as a few tears fall down his face.

the two of you stay like that for a good five more minutes, which is enough time for chenle to regain his composure and act like he didn’t shed a few tears in the process. he slowly leaves your grasp, taking a good look at your face and wiping some tears off of your face with his thumb. “you know what I think will make you feel better?”

you grin. “what?”

he smiles before swiveling around to rustle through his bookbag, and your eyes widen when you finally process what he’s up to.

the next moment happens so quickly you can barely register that it’s happening. chenle swivels around with two nerf guns in his hands, throws you one that lands perfectly in your arms, and declares: “me completely destroying you in a nerf gun battle will make you feel better.” before he releases fire on you.

you shriek as you run across your apartment, trying to avoid the plastic bullets that chenle was littering your apartment with. eventually, he does win the battle, and it does make you feel better in the end, but let’s not mention that or else his ego will run wild, alright?

65 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)

feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.

notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer

w.c: 7.1k

01, 02

“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.”

“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?”

The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality.

“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.”

Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.”

Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons.

“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.”

“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?”

“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?”

“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!”

Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?”

“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.”

Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.”

You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort.

Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement.

“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!”

The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess.

“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind.

The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view.

Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain.

Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal.

This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments.

Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?”

“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”

“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth.

“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.”

You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot.

After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels.

It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out.

Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you.

“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering.

You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.

With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.”

“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare.

You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle.

After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.

Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!"

As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not.

Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours.

Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule.

Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check.

Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check.

Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.

Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—

A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight.

The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!”

You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!”

“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?”

“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.”

The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?”

“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.”

“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?”

“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.”

A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.”

“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?”

“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.”

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.”

“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.”

You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself.

“Well, your duty is doo-dy.” Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.”

A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop.

“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—”

“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter.

It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up.

You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics.

“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.

“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?”

He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.”

“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off.

“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.”

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?”

Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing.

You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.”

“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.”

You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?”

“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”

“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”

“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it.

“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!”

You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire?

“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.”

He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.”

“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns.

“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying.

Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project.

Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk.

“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.”

“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.”

You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.”

“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.

“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.”

“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?”

The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker.

“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”

“That’s classified.”

“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”

“Also classified.”

“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.”

You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible.

“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread.

“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.”

Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.”

Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.”

Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you.

The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.”

If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.

In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear.

“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully.

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.”

“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry.

Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie.

It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile.

And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight.

“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.

He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted.

“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.”

Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.

Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.”

You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.”

“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly.

You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.

“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?”

“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!”

Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.”

You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.”

The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone.

“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can you at least try to come, for me?”

You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself.

But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away.

“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.”

With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.”

“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you.

Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second.

“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.”

Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?”

You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!”

“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.”

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over.

Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.

You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish.

“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.”

She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?”

“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”

“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds.

“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.”

“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?”

“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.”

Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.”

Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.”

Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you.

“You came!”

Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging.

It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial.

Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase.

You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island.

Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with.

After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs.

“You’re here!”

You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat.

Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that.

Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide.

It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.”

“Right.”

“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.”

“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?”

He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean.

You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms.

Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on.

The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony.

“Snooping around, Princess?”

You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?”

“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel.

You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you.

“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs.

“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.”

His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.”

You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.”

“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.”

It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears.

“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.”

You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.”

“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.”

You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.

“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”

“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place.

The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.”

A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned.

“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.”

And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste.

Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.”

Wait, Christmas?

Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.”

“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”

“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.”

Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free.

extra.

It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow.

“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.”

“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room.

“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!”

Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”

“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #jjk #royal au #college au #bts x reader

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the-hotter-otter · 3 years

Text

(1) Sweeter Love || ATEEZ Fanfic

Choi San x Gender-neutral OC

Idol AU

11:02 (1) || 12:32 (2) || chapter list

Baking wasn’t your forte, nor was it San’s, so it was completely understandable when the kitchen turned out to become a sugary hell hole. Hongjoong should’ve known better than to trust you two, he should’ve known that him and the other members would be coming home to a love sick disaster...

9 hours before ~ 11:02

You rang on the door of ATEEZ’s dorm, with San’s birthday tomorrow you wanted to surprise him with a movie date at the local cinema, something he’s always wanted to do with you since you two started dating last year.

Such a simple and normal date was rare for you two, to be frank, there was nothing normal about your relationship. You missed him during his tours that went on for months, you hated how he wouldn't get the chance to text you for days. To top it all off, you despised the fact that no one could know you were even associated with the group. It was exhausting, but you sucked it up, because you know how hard San tries to at least give a reply or a call even if it's only for 30 seconds, and you know how gruelling his work is.

You were patient, you survived this unfair yet passionate love and now you and San are reaching the one year mark, it really couldn’t get any better.

You should’ve known it was too good of a day to be true.

“Manager-nim, we’re almos-.“ When Yunho opened the door his words seemed to think faster than his brain, “Haneul?”

“I thought it was your day off?” You squint your eyes upon realising the commotion inside, this was not what you expected.

“Did you have plans with San?” Yunho asked, the nod you gave him drew a sigh from his lips, “uh well, the schedule was shifted, they asked us to come in for a few meetings…”

“Is San not free?” You're pissed and it was most definitely showing, you didn’t plan this whole date just to have it cancelled literally seconds before. What’s worse was that San hadn’t even sent you a message about it.

Before Yunho could answer, Hongjoong came rushing to the door with a mouth full of toothpaste, with his free hand he dragged you inside. From the living room you were getting front row seats to a raw and unprepared Ateez, clearly these meetings were unheard of until half an hour ago. It makes you less pissed knowing that it wasn’t their fault, but it didn't change the way your eyebrows curled in annoyance.

Amongst the chaos you realize San was nowhere to be seen. Hongjoong came back all clean and fresh from the bathroom, it was something you didn't get about him, he always looks as if he didn't spend 5 straight hours in the studio from midnight onwards. “San’s sick, it was worse last night but he still hasn’t gotten over it.”

“Say that again?”

“Nope.” Hongjoong flat out refused, “manager-nim will be here soon, hide in the bathroom till we leave.”

“Hold on, hold on.” I grab Hongjoong’s attention for a second, “are you telling me to stay here?”

“I’m telling you to hide.” Hongjoong continued to tug at you till you compiled, “it’s too risky for you to leave now, manager-nim will catch you.”

You were visibly upset that the movie was a bust, both you and San were looking forward to it, plus you had so much more planned to surprise him with, some more erotic than the rest.

On the other hand you can tell what Hongjoong was silently telling you, San will be alone here all day and to have you, his own lover look after him was perfect. Not only that, but it was a chance to finally hang out even if it meant cancelling the entire day. The fact that the stubborn leader was actually going to allow it was an entirely different train of thought, there was no reason not to stay.

You waited at the bathroom door as Yeosang abused his face with a sink of water. As soon as he stepped out he stopped to give you a long stare before patting your shoulder, “take care of Sannie~”

“Of course…” you squint your eyes, anticipating his next sentence which always leaves you dumbfounded.

“What I mean is don't get horny, I know you want to but don’t.”

“Ya!” Before you could protest with any form of physical abuse, the doorbell suddenly rang, and it was none other than their manager who was to pick them up.

It took far longer than expected for them to leave, but once the door had finally locked you were quick to jog lightly over to Yunho and San’s shared room. Through the slight gap in the door you could see the large lump tucked away under the blankets, the soft rise and fall was telling you that he was fast asleep.

As you crept in you couldn’t help but feel your heart break, San’s nose was all red, cheeks slightly puffy and his growing hair all scruffy. You felt bad for being pissed earlier, this man wouldn’t be able to get up even if he wanted to.

The next thing you notice was his phone, clearly unlocked and showcasing what he was typing before he got more shut-eye.

“Oh San…” you sigh as you read the message he was still typing, he was clearly trying to cancel plans in the most loving way possible. You read the whole paragraph thrice, you could help but melt to the floor when you came across the little yet abundant typos he made purely because he was half asleep. Before you could accidentally turn it off you quickly pressed send and scooted closer to your sleeping boyfriend, “you're so precious and for what.”

This was more than enough, just being with him was already a blessing in itself.

#ateez #ateez san #choi san #ateez choi san #san #kpopidol #kpop #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #fluff #ateez fluff #idol au

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 years

Text

Pride and Fidget Spinners (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash , as part of the You’ll Never Shop Alone (YNSA) collaboration with @underthejoon and @suga-kookiemonster

Creative Content Contributor: @underthejoon, for this amazing banner

Rating: 18+

Warnings: oral (female receiving), dirty talk, big dick (it’s seokjin, duh), everyone in this fic is a brat, seokjin talks about fair lending

Genre: Rom-Com / Smut / Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 18,623

Summary: Seokjin has always prided himself on being the top mall kiosk salesman. His turf, the spot nearest to the fountain, is due to him being the undisputed best in the game. At least, until you arrive and throw his world into chaos.

[ cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

I GET KNOCKED DOWN, BUT I GET UP AGAIN

YOU ARE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN

I GET KNO –

SLAP. Seokjin’s hand finds the buzzer, tuning off his alarm to burrow further under the covers. Sunlight streams through the open windows, pricking the back of his eyelids but Seokjin refuses to look. He can sleep for five more minutes. Five more minutes will not kill him.

Somewhere else in his apartment, a bedroom door slams. Wincing, Seokjin pulls his comforter higher. His roommate, Min Yoongi, spends most of his time annoyed with the world – but especially in the morning, and especially before having coffee. Loud banging continues, along with the sound of facial products hitting the sink. Groaning out loud, Seokjin pulls a pillow over his face.

Unfortunately, he is now awake and unable to slip back into his dream. It was a good one, too. Something about Iron Man and that hot barista at the mall Taehyung is crushing on. Squinting into his pillow, Seokjin abruptly sits up and tosses this on the floor.

“Fuck!” he yelps, throwing up a hand.

Every day, Seokjin somehow forgets to close his blinds before sleeping. Groping his way into the bathroom, Seokjin ruffles a hand through mussed morning hair. Turning on both taps in his shower, he waits for the water to warm and stares at himself in the mirror.

Clapping both hands to his face, Seokjin drags down the side of his cheeks. Getting older is weird.

Before he can get too hung up on this fact, Seokjin steps into the tub. “I GET KNOCKED DOWN,” he sings, lathering himself with soap. “BUT I GET UP AGAIN!”

Once out of the shower, dried and with a towel wrapped around his waist, Seokjin wanders into his closet. The sight dims his spirits a bit, seeing rows and rows of neatly pressed suits. Seokjin stares them each down in turn, knowing blinking is a weakness.

Reaching past them, he sighs.

The one at the front is navy, pin-striped and stares at him mockingly. Seokjin remembers wearing that one on his first day of work, nearly three years ago. He remembers how proud his parents were of him when he called them on his way home.

Seokjin’s heart sinks at the memory. That first phone call overlaps with another, less pleasant one. The one after his company decided to move their programming center out of his city. Seokjin was not one of the engineers selected to go. He was – rather unceremoniously – let go.

Let go. Seokjin snorts at the memory. Let go is such a nicer way to say fired. Fired has the ring of burnt smoke to it; it stinks of crumbling foundations and all hell breaking loose. If a company wants to yank one’s livelihood out from under them, Seokjin at least feels they should have the decency to call it what it is. Let go.

Shaking his head, Seokjin pushes past the suit to grab a white button-down. It has been nearly six months since that second call. Four months since his severance ran out and Seokjin realized he needed a job. Three months and three weeks since he began working at the Fidget Funk – even thinking the name makes Seokjin wince.

If someone had told him three years ago that he, Kim Seokjin, with his fancy degree and multiple years of experience, would ever be working a glorified mall job, Seokjin would have laughed in their face. He would have asked what they were smoking and if he could share – and yet. Here he is.

Frowning at himself in the mirror, Seokjin zips up his pants. Perhaps the worst part is that Seokjin was not upset when he was ‘let go.’ He was not actually disappointed by the firing, which disappointed his parents even more. When Bob and Karen from HR sat him down in that tiny, white room and handed him a tiny, white packet, Seokjin could not stop grinning.

His colleagues thought he had been kept when he left the room. That is how much Seokjin hated that company. His pure joy at finally leaving was enough to make up for the sucky way it happened.

Honestly, Seokjin was not surprised when he was fired. His entire last year he worked there, Seokjin spent most of his free time designing apps on his phone. No wonder they let him go, come to think of it. He was hardly their employee of the year.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, Seokjin shoves these into his pockets. Stepping into the hall, he glances at Yoongi’s room. “Yoongi!” he calls. No answer. “Hey! Min Yoongi!”

Continued silence, apart from the harsh thud of bass.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Seokjin tries again. “MIN YOONGI!”

The door at the end of the hall opens, hitting the wall. “What?” With a yawn, Yoongi drags a hand through his hair. Bleached blond strands fall about his face. “You said 10:00 AM. It’s 10:01.”

“Right.” Seokjin looks at him pointedly. “But I need to have the kiosk set up by 10:30, or else Bertha gets pissed.”

Yoongi walks past him and frowns. “Who’s Bertha? I don’t remember you working with anyone named Bertha.”

“I don’t.” Seokjin shrugs. Today is one of the rare days their work schedules lined up and – amazingly enough – Yoongi agreed to carpool. “Bertha is the name of my fidget spinner display. She’s temperamental.”

Yoongi groans, shutting the door. “Dude, you need to get a hobby.”

“I do have a hobby!”

“Then, get a girlfriend,” says Yoongi, sliding his keys from the lock. “You have way too much free time on your hands.”

“Do not,” Seokjin mutters, shoving both hands in his pockets as they walk to his car. “I’m working on loads of stuff.”

“Oh, really?” Yoongi flips his phone. “Which amazing app is it today? Let me guess. The one which meows every time a cat comes near? Or, the one which ranks all the apps in your phone from most to least used? Or, maybe –”

“Hey!” Cutting him off, Seokjin pulls open his car door. “You left out Alliterate! The handy app which suggests words which start with the same letter as yours – for casual alliteration.”

Yoongi stares over the roof of his car. “Dude, who would buy that?”

“English majors. Dramatic teenagers writing letters in the eighteenth century.”

“Seokjin.” Yoongi slides into the passenger seat. “You don’t give a fuck about any of these ideas, and therein lies your problem.”

“Oh, really?” Seokjin sticks his keys into the ignition. The car is sweltering, baking from having been left in the sun all morning. “Unlike you and your SoundCloud rapping?”

“Exactly unlike me and my SoundCloud rapping.” Grinning, Yoongi buckles his seatbelt and looks over at Seokjin. “Speaking of which – I have a new track to play.”

“No.”

Turning on the engine, Seokjin winces when a red warning light appears. He apparently needs an oil change soon but – with what money?

“Yes.” Yoongi reaches out, already hooking up his phone. “Just these two hooks, okay? Tell me which one you like more.”

Twelve minutes later, Seokjin pulls into his unofficial parking spot at the mall. “Will you look at that?” he says, turning off the engine. “We’re here! Time to go sell those fidgets!”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi pushes open the door. Shoving his white Auntie Anne’s visor further up on his head, he glances around. “You’ll be sorry,” he says, slamming the door. “You’ll all be sorry!” Yoongi yells at the empty parking lot.

Patting him once on the back, Seokjin walks inside. “You know that I like your music.” Seokjin shivers when they both hit the AC. “More than like it, in fact. You’re too good and you know it – your head is inflated, and I have to take you down a peg.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, because all this pretzel rolling is inflating my ego. I’m basically Kanye, pre-Kim. Or Kanye, post-Kim. Say what you will about the guy, he’s remarkably consistent about how good he thinks he is.”

Snorting, Seokjin quiets when they pass by Kay Jewelers. Both men swerve to avoid eye contact, since they never know when what’s-her-name will be working. Seokjin makes a face. He always forgets her name, but the Kay Jewelers girl is usually after the dick of someone in the mall. Both he and Yoongi have been on the receiving end of that hunt before.

“Alright.” Coming to a stop at his kiosk, Seokjin lowers his gym bag to the ground. “Here is where I bid thee adieu.”

Yoongi continues walking. “Bye.”

“BYE, BEST FRIEND!” Seokjin yells, waving as Yoongi crosses the food court.

Several heads turn, and Seokjin continues waving until his roommate is gone. Grinning, Seokjin returns to his kiosk. Unlocking the metal grating, he pulls this up to reveal a brightly colored display. The morning routine is standard. Inventory, balancing the register, ensuring all displays are functional. Each time he passes the front, Seokjin sees his name on the register.

The kiosk’s top salesman, three months in a row.

It might seem like a silly thing to be proud of, but Seokjin is at a point in his life where everything has gone wrong. Everything he does seems to become a failure and even though he hates this job and hates these fidget spinners (okay, that’s harsh – no one hates fidget spinners), at least he can succeed at this one, small thing.

Selling shit to people they absolutely do not need.

Leaning against the counter, Seokjin crosses an ankle to wait. The mall opens on weekdays at 11:00 AM, prompt. Some places are open earlier – like Java Joe’s, the coffee shop, and maybe the gym – but Seokjin’s kiosk is standard mall hours. Rubbing his eyes, Seokjin glances longingly in the direction of Java Joe’s, but there are only five minutes until the mall opens. He needs to remain where he is.

Pulling his phone from his jacket, he shoots off a quick text.

Seokjin: yo [10:55 AM]

It takes a moment for Namjoon to respond.

Namjoon: what do you want? [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: nothing!!! [10:56 AM]

Namjoon: … [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: ok fine [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: I’ll come clean [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: are you doing the morning shift at T-Mobile [10:56 AM]

Namjoon: …. Yes [10:57 AM]

Namjoon: why? [10:57 AM]

Seokjin: do u think… on ur next break… u could bring me some coffee?? [10:57 AM]

Namjoon: get it yourself [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: pleaseeee Joon?? I never ask you for anything! [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: Chad called in sick, so I’m here all alone : ( [10:58 AM]

Namjoon: sigh. Fine – can you hang on until 1? [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: : ( [10:58 AM]

Namjoon: ur the worst but fine, I’ll try to get away sooner [10:59 AM]

Seokjin: THANKS JOON [10:59 AM]

Seokjin: grande iced Americano, no milk [10:59 AM]

Namjoon: u wouldn’t treat Yoongi like this [10:59 AM]

Seokjin snorts, shoving his phone in his pocket. He absolutely would treat Yoongi like this – problem is, Yoongi rarely responds. He usually spends his work breaks engrossed in his music. If anything, Seokjin is the one who brings coffee to him.

The first two hours pass by at a glacial pace. Seokjin regularly looks at his watch, wondering why the day is moving so slowly. True, it is a weekday but there is usually steady traffic. Stay at home parents and high school kids with nothing better to do than spend their summers at the mall, drinking Orange Julius’ next to the fountain.

It took Seokjin two months to convince his boss to put in for this spot. Next to the fountain is prime mall real estate, since you need to pass by it in order to reach anywhere else. Which is why it is strange that Seokjin has had zero customers.

He is still frowning when Namjoon appears at his workplace, iced coffee in hand. Namjoon wears his T-Mobile manager uniform, complete with a badge which declares his name and title. Kim Namjoon, Assistant Manager.

“Two?” Seokjin fake gasps, holding out a hand. “All for me?”

“Nope.” Namjoon only gives one to him. “One is for me.”

“Rude.” Seokjin sniffs, turning to survey the mall.

“What is? The fact that I brought you coffee?”

“Sure.”

Namjoon laughs. “What’s up with you today? You seem super distracted.”

Squinting at the fountain, Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know. Things have been so quiet today. Is there something going on? A deal at Woodbury mall, or something?”

“Hm.” Namjoon’s brow furrows. “Not that I know of, I – oh, wait.” He straightens, glancing across the food court. “When I was walking over here, I did see a new kiosk. Maybe they’re taking some of your customers?”

“A new kiosk?” Seokjin looks up in alarm. “Where?”

“There.” Namjoon points behind a browning, potted plant.

Seokjin peers in the direction Namjoon is pointing. In his line of vision stands a brand-spanking-new kiosk. The sides are all pristine, gleaming and white, with the kind of bright-colored accents designed to draw people in. Neat boxes of toys line the shelves, almost as pretty as Seokjin’s own display.

Groaning, Seokjin sinks to his kiosk. “Drones?” He glances at Namjoon. “How are fidget spinners supposed to compete with fucking drones?”

“Dunno.” Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee. “I first saw them this morning, but they’re getting pretty good business. Nearly tripped over their salesgirl on my way here. She’s cute,” he adds, glancing at Seokjin.

Seokjin glowers. “Cuter than me?”

“Maybe.” Namjoon shrugs.

“Impossible.” Seokjin glares in the direction of the kiosk. On one side, he can barely make out the shape of a worker and based on what he sees, Seokjin begrudgingly thinks Namjoon might be right. You could be cute.

Namjoon drains the rest of his cup. “Well. Gotta go,” he says cheerfully, clapping Seokjin on the back. “Breaks don’t last forever. Hope the rest of your day picks up.”

“Thanks,” Seokjin mutters. “Hope so, too.”

Namjoon leaves, returning the same way he came towards the T-Mobile store. Seokjin continues to glance at the competing kiosk, staring with envy at its remote-controlled helicopters.

Up until now, the competitive landscape at the mall has been easy. There is a guy on the second floor selling Proactive but other than that, Seokjin has never had real competition. Until now, it would seem.

Rather than be turned off by this fact, Seokjin tilts his head. The only reason he lasted as long as he did at his prior company is because of how competitive he is. Even if Seokjin does not care about the product, he still works tirelessly to be called number one. He should stop by and check out the competition – just to be certain there is no real risk.

Seokjin’s phone buzzes, revealing a text from his boss. Lisa will be here at 5:00 PM, meaning Seokjin only must hold out a few hours before he can see the new kiosk.

Only a few more hours until he knows what he is up against.

Lisa’s arrival at five means Seokjin is afforded a half-hour break. He uses this to grab food, bothering Yoongi at Auntie Anne’s before moving on. Dinnertime at the mall is typically crowded and Yoongi tends to throw mustard if Seokjin overstays his welcome.

Not wanting to ruin his button-down, Seokjin wanders in the direction of your kiosk. He eyes this as he approaches, finding the reality of the situation to be worse than he feared. The drones you stock are cool and what is more – they are all beautifully displayed. The stand might even rival Bertha.

Crossing both arms over his chest, Seokjin examines the kiosk. The products are neat, all of them aligned in carefully placed rows. The fingers on his right hand twitch, really wanting to touch the remote- controlled helicopters, but before he can move –

“Can I help you?” you ask, bright and cheerful. Seokjin flinches, gaze darting to you.

Fuck – seeing you up close, Seokjin’s jaw nearly hits the ground. You are gorgeous. There is no other word for it. The smile you give is infections; it makes him want to smile back. More than that – Seokjin finds himself wanting to be the reason for that smile, but no! Straightening his spine, Seokjin reminds himself that you are the competition.

Looking at you, his scowl deepens.

Your own smile falters. “Did you want me to take that one out?” you ask, pointing at the drone. “Show you how it works?”

Seokjin shrugs, as though he could not care less. “I’m not here to buy, actually.”

Now, it is your turn to look confused. “I – uh, okay.” You squint. “Then, why are you here?”

Seokjin realizes how creepy he sounds. In your eyes, he has wandered over, stared at your merchandise for a prolonged period of time and then announced he was not here to buy. A grade-A creep rivaled only by that one flasher who lurks in female footwear.

“Uh…” Backtracking, Seokjin jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I work at that kiosk, actually. I’m Seokjin.”

Unimpressed, you glance in this direction. “Y/N. And – uh, okay?”

“I stopped by to say hello. And to see what you’re selling.”

As he speaks, you read the name of his kiosk. Your upper lip twitches as slowly, you return to looking at him. Seokjin is unnerved by your smile. For some reason, he has the sinking suspicion he is the butt of your joke.

“Oh,” you say, tone entirely different. “That kiosk. Brandi mentioned you.”

“Brandi?”

“My boss.” You wave towards the middle-aged woman on the other side of the kiosk. Seokjin thinks he has seen her around before. “She said you’ve been selling pretty well the past couple of months. Great job.”

Seokjin tries not to seem smug – there is an undercurrent to your tone which screams subterfuge. “I mean, yeah,” he says carefully. “Things are going pretty well for us.”

“Strange, then.”

“What is?”

“Strange that we’re doing so much better than you.”

Someone could scrape Seokjin’s jaw off the dirty, child-scuffed floor. You smirk at him, tapping two fingers against the pretty, floral sleeve of your tunic. If Seokjin did not know better, he would think you were flirting with him.

Except you just fucking insulted him.

“I…” Shaking his head, Seokjin’s voice is strangled. “Mall traffic has been slow this morning. No big deal. I guess once you’ve been around longer, you’ll know that.”

“Hm.” You purse your lips. “I don’t know – things have been pretty crazy for us today. We already ran out of a product. Wild, right?”

Seokjin’s mouth dries, his ears starting to buzz – all evidence of his pure hatred of you. Obviously. It could not be anything else.

“You ran… out of something? Already?”

Seokjin’s voice squeaks on the last word, making him cringe.

“Not bad, huh? Although, I guess once we’ve ‘been around longer,’” you mock with a grin, “we’ll get more lulls. Must be nice.”

In the face of his clear disbelief, you have the nerve to wink.

Seokjin begins to see red. “Yeah,” he croaks, recovering himself. “Beginner’s luck is nice, too.”

Your smile disappears. “How long is your break? I don’t think my kiosk could afford to have me gone for so long.”

Not looking away, Seokjin shoves the rest of his pretzel in his mouth. Chewing exaggeratedly, he watches you wince. “Sorry,” he mumbles around cinnamon-sugar bread. “Thanks for the reminder. I do need to be getting back. Can’t have my kiosk without its top salesman.”

Nose wrinkled; you continue to stare. “If that’s your idea of finesse, I think they can manage without you.”

“Please.” Seokjin gives you a pointed look. “I’m literally dripping with finesse.”

Your lips twitch, suppressing the gesture. Seokjin is impressed by your stoicism, since he knows he is a good-looking guy. That much is a non-debatable fact. Even if it were not, he can see by the way your gaze lingers, that you like what you see. And still – when your gaze returns to his face, your expression is artfully composed.

Fuck, Seokjin realizes. You really are going to be competition.

“Is that all?” Blithely, you turn. “Did you just stop by to see how much better we’re doing?”

Seokjin scowls at your arguably perfect behind. “I came to see how much product you have left, yeah.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you grin. “Why? Worried we’ll sell out before you can buy?”

“No.” Undercutting his conviction, Seokjin glances again at the helicopter. “I’ve got my hands full, thanks.”

“Ri-ght.” You draw out the word. “Then, you should probably get back to the, uh – Fidget Funk.”

Seokjin’s ears turn red with embarrassment. “I will,” he blurts, spinning around on his heel. “You have fun at the Drone Dome – fuck,” he mutters, coming to a stop. “That’s actually such a cool name.”

Without waiting for a response, he stalks away. All the way across the food court, your laughter rings out behind him. Upon reaching his kiosk, Seokjin glances over his shoulder. You are not paying attention to him, already engaged with another customer and Seokjin’s stomach slowly sinks.

He might be in trouble – and in more ways than one.

Seokjin arrives the next day ready for battle.

Before, he was unprepared – caught off guard by your wily ways, but no longer! He is Kim Seokjin, crusader of goals and defender of the kiosk. The fact that Seokjin does not care about fidget spinners does not matter. They are his unfortunate chosen weapon and so, he will die upon this metaphorical sword.

Leaning against his kiosk, Seokjin spins a toy in one hand. Smiling and nodding at everyone who passes, he tries not to seem creepy or make eye contact for too long. This is the number one rule of kiosk sales – be deliberate, but approachable.

Most kiosk salespeople fail here, never ascending past the first stage of selling. They leer at shoppers, approaching women with earbuds in, or spraying perfume without asking. Not Seokjin. Seokjin is the very image of class, one ankle crossed over the other.

Seated at the food court is a large group of collegiate girls. At least, Seokjin assumes this based off one girl’s University sweatshirt. They sit clustered around Starbucks drinks (a slap in the face to Java Joe’s!), giggling every so often and glancing at Seokjin. Despite knowing they see him, Seokjin pretends not to care. Every so often, he pushes a hand through his hair and angles himself in the light.

Eventually, he knows one will come over and when they do, Seokjin will whip out the charm. A shadow steps into his path, blocking the sunlight.

Seokjin frowns. “Get out of the way,” he says, bored. “I almost have a sale.”

Arms crossed; you glance over a shoulder. The group of girls glare at you, clearly perturbed at having their view interrupted.

Snorting, you return to Seokjin. “Oh, please. So, what – you’re a pedophile, in addition to creep?”

Jerking upright, Seokjin scowls. “I am not a pedophile. I’m just trying to make a sale.”

“Of what kind?” you ask pleasantly.

“Fidget spinners.”

“Hm. Could’ve fooled me.”

Shrugging, you take a long sip of your coffee. Seokjin tries not to linger on the way your lips wrap around the straw.

I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he says stiffly. “Now, move. You’re blocking my light.”

“Whatever,” you yawn, leaving. As you enter the food court, you give Seokjin an excellent view of your backside walking away. “We’ll still beat your sales target today, anyways!” you call back.

Glaring at your retreating head, Seokjin holds out for as long as he can before dropping his gaze to your ass. Waggling fingers over your shoulder, you disappear behind the potted plant. The college girls resume looking at him but now, Seokjin finds he does not care.

Really, he should be thanking you. As soon as you are gone, three of the girls wander up to his kiosk. Seokjin sells five fidget spinners in one hour, thanks to the jealousy your presence provoked. Rather than be pleased by this fact though, Seokjin becomes even more agitated. He does not like feeling in your debt.

The next time your shifts overlap, determined to get even, Seokjin switches tactics. He parks on the opposite end of the mall, necessitating he should walk by your kiosk. Yoongi complains about this, but Seokjin merely ignores him.

Slowing as he passes your kiosk, Seokjin waits for you to look up.

Both elbows leaned to the counter, you scroll casually through your phone. When your gaze flicks up, taking him in – you blink.

“Oh, come on,” you groan.

Waving to Yoongi, Seokjin veers in your direction. “Oh, hey!” He stops at your display, nonchalantly stretching his arms overhead. “Having a good morning?”

Gaze darting to his pants and back up, you almost seem flustered. “I – how tight are those jeans?”

Seokjin’s grin widens. “What, these old things?”

Turning around, Seokjin checks out his own ass, as though surprised by its appearance. He is rather proud of his legs, actually. There is a reason Seokjin spends so much time in the gym with Jungkook. His newly bought skinny jeans show off his best assets. Not to mention how satisfying it is to see you rendered speechless.

Your gaze returns to his, smoldering. “There’s a tag still in the pocket, genius.”

“Oh.” Grandly, Seokjin plucks this off – fuck, that just cost him an entire week of spending allowance. “Well, there you go. Wouldn’t want to distract from the view.”

Jaw clenched, you seem as though you want to say more, but hold yourself back. “Great.”

Seokjin smirks. “Isn’t it?”

Whirling around, you pretend to be busy but Seokjin can tell your register has already been counted.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your kiosk?” You glower, glancing over your shoulder. “I’d hate to waste any more of your time standing here.”

Seokjin’s grin broadens. “You’re right,” he agrees. “That’d be a shame. See you around, Y/N!”

Happily, he turns and walks back the food court. With each step his grin widens, imagining you watching him leave. The rest of his day is spent in lazy self-satisfaction.

As it turns out, Seokjin should have been warier. Your silence was not acceptance of defeat, but a determined self-call to arms. The very next day, Seokjin walks past your kiosk and nearly spills his drink down his shirt.

You stand off to the side, bent to display a generous amount of cleavage. Seokjin’s jaw drops, unable to look away. He realizes how inappropriate he is being when you look up and see him.

“Seokjin!” Straightening, you wave.

The action makes your breasts bounce, causing Seokjin’s pants to feel tighter.

Yoongi snorts at his side. “Good luck, man,” he says, patting Seokjin once on the back before walking away.

Seokjin is left alone, facing the wiles of his enemy.

“Hey,” you say, raising both brows. “Seokjin? Are you okay?”

Forcing himself to move, Seokjin walks robotically forward. He does not allow himself to look below your collarbone – fuck, you must be wearing a push-up bra. There is no other way a single day could cause such a dramatic transformation.

Unable to help himself, Seokjin sneaks another peek.

When he looks up, you are smirking at him. “See something you like?”

The tips of Seokjin’s ears turn crimson. “I – what?”

“The merchandise,” you say sweetly, waving a hand. “We just got in a few new toys over the weekend.”

Seokjin has no response to this, having momentarily forgotten what words are.

Your lips twitch. “Is something wrong, Seokjin?”

Seeing the teasing look in your eyes, Seokjin fumes. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, jaw snapping shut. “I’ll just be on my way, then. Lots of… fidgets to spin.”

Turning around, he dramatically walks off.

He cannot help but feel oddly unsettled, throat burning in a way which does not make sense. Anger, he tells himself. The emotion is merely annoyance. It is completely natural he would hate his competitor. Natural, for him to think about what their lips would look like shut up by his.

It takes two weeks for Seokjin to enact the next phase of his plan. Which is – dramatic entertainment. Basically, phase two involves Seokjin researching fidget spinner hand tricks for hours at a time on YouTube. It reaches to the point where Seokjin is in near hibernation. Jungkook sends him texts every so often, asking when he will return to the gym, but Seokjin is a man on a mission and cannot be stopped.

He starts off slowly, learning the simple fidget spinner hand transfer. Next is the hand twist, rated Difficulty Level Two by the most known YouTube star. From there, learning the around the back is easy. This maneuver is more complex – it involves Seokjin physically throwing the fidget spinner over his shoulder to catch in the other hand.

Once Seokjin can control two fidget spinners at once, he deems himself ready.

Phase two goes into action on a busy Saturday afternoon. Seokjin hijacks the Fidget Funk’s speakers, hooking up his iPhone to the horror of his co-worker, Lisa.

“Oh, no,” she groans. “Please tell me you aren’t doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Are you thinking I’m doing a fidget spinner trick show?” Seokjin adjusts the sweatband on his forehead. “Alright, then. I won’t tell you.”

“God, how embarrassing.” Lisa slumps low in her chair. “Well, at least do it before Chad gets here.”

“Noted. What song should I use?” Seokjin flips through his playlist. “Hero by Enrique Iglesias? Whatcha Say by Jason Derulo? The Cha Cha Slide?”

Lisa stares in disbelief. “What vibe are you going for, exactly?”

“None of those?” Seokjin frowns. “What about All Star by Smash Mouth?”

“How about Cotton Eyed Joe?” Lisa offers. “That seems more fitting with all of… this.”

Ignoring her sarcasm, Seokjin selects a song to press play. The first notes of Everybody by Backstreet Boys plays through the speakers. Lisa groans and slumps even lower.

At first, no one notices Seokjin at all. People sidestep him, focused solely on getting to the food court but then, Seokjin executes a perfect shoulder throw. A kid stops to watch. His mom stops too, trying to drag her kid forward but failing in her mission.

“Hey!” Seokjin beams, switching the spinner from one hand to the other. “Want to see more?”

The boy nods and before long, Seokjin has managed to gather a small crowd. Over the ooh’s and ahs of children, Seokjin converses with their moms.

“Fidget spinners are proven to help concentration in both kids and adults,” Seokjin says with a hand twist. “One of my friends was telling me a story the other day. He and this AVP at his office are both tactile people and remember better while doing something with their hands. So, they end up having this entire meeting while playing with fidget spinners from her office.”

The moms all laugh, moving forward to let their kids pick out a toy. By the time the day ends, Seokjin has beaten all previous sales records. He has also managed to capture the attention of most people in the mall – including you.

And Namjoon, who stops by before closing.

“Dude,” Namjoon laughs, leaning one arm to his kiosk. “Why are you being so extra lately? It’s just a temp job. Who cares?”

“I care, Namjoon.” Seokjin bristles. “Is it so wrong to want to do well at my work? To want to improve the sales of my peers. Frankly, Namjoon, I’m insulted you would –”

“Hey, Kim!” you yell, passing by. “Heard you’re trying to break into show business!”

Seokjin abruptly stops talking. “Trying?” he calls back. “I’m already there. Were you able to catch a performance?”

Rolling your eyes, you walk backwards. “Of course, I did! The whole fucking mall saw you, Seokjin. Your music was so loud, people physically moved in the food court.”

Seokjin’s grin widens. “What’d you think?”

“I think you should stick to sales.” Shaking your head, you try not to smile. “Anyways, just wait until you see what we’re doing this weekend. It’ll make your lame tricks look like nothing!”

“Can’t wait!” Seokjin cups both hands over his mouth. “I love to watch lofty dreams come crashing down!”

Shaking your head, you turn around and disappear into the mall. Once you are gone, Seokjin returns to Namjoon.

“What?” he blinks, seeing his friend’s smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile widens. “Oh, nothing.”

“What?”

Namjoon merely laughs, grabbing his smoothie and turning away. “Good luck with that, man!”

Seokjin stares after, not understanding but deciding it is not worth his while. Namjoon always thinks he knows so much – granted, he usually does, but that is not the point. The point is Seokjin does not and so, he should not worry about it now.

The next day is busy, which means Seokjin barely has time to consider the performance you mentioned. He is again covering for Lisa, who failed to show up. Chad and Seokjin are the only ones covering the kiosk, which Seokjin despises because Chad is his least favorite co-worker. Lisa may be flaky, but at least her presence is tolerable. Chad is always going off on tangents about who wronged him on Twitter that day, and why.

Chad is also terrible at customer service – no surprise – which means Seokjin must handle all returns and exchanges. A tedious task in itself, let alone with Chad’s monotonous voice in his ears. In fact, the morning is so busy, Seokjin barely remembers to eat, let alone visit you.

It is the sound of cheers over the food court which make him look up.

Midway through a transaction, Seokjin pauses to glance at your kiosk. You and your Manager – Brandi – stand before it, navigating two competing drones in the air. It seems several people are betting on which drone will win.

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin returns to his customer. Smiling blandly, he hands the woman her money and ignores the wild cheers growing steadily behind him. It makes Seokjin’s teeth grind, realizing you might be drawing a bigger crowd than he did.

Unable to stop himself, he peers over his shoulder. Seokjin’s eyes widen. Above the food court, a helicopter loops circles around a remote-controlled plane. They no longer seem to be racing, dive- bombing the crowd and swooping up at the last second. Kids squeal in excitement, running around underneath.

Seokjin scowls, slamming shut the register. His mind revolts at the knowledge that your show is better than his – also, there is the maddening fact that Seokjin wants a drone for himself. Huffing under his breath, Seokjin turns away.

Before he can tell Chad he is going on break, a scream pierces the crowd.

“MOVE!” Seokjin hears your voice above the rest. “KIDS, MOVE!”

Seokjin whirls around, spotting the helicopter spinning out of control. Kids duck from its path, their hands held overhead as the helicopter sputters, dips and sputters again. Steam curls from its top, clearly not responding to the remote you hold in one hand.

Worse than that, the drone is headed in their direction.

“Chad, move!” Seokjin yells, diving out of the way.

Chad looks up just in time to see the helicopter crash into their kiosk.

Fidget spinners fly every which way. From his spot on the floor, several hit Seokjin in the back of his legs – he winces, curling into himself. Chad’s sputtering continues above as the slow whir of helicopter blades begins to wind down.

Seokjin hesitantly looks up. The kiosk above him is chaos. Nothing seems to be broken, but his carefully placed display – Bertha! – is entirely out of whack. Brightly colored boxes lie on the floor, shelving hanging precariously off the sides of the kiosk.

You dash into view, skidding to a stop inches away from his nose. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, a useless remote held in one hand. “I don’t know what happened, I swear.”

Your gaze darts to Seokjin’s, still lying prostrate on the floor.

He slowly pushes himself to stand, staring in shock at the disastrous kiosk. Seokjin expects to feel angry. He should feel pissed, since all his hard work was erased and now, he will have to spend several hours cleaning it up, but – nothing.

Well, that is not entirely true.

Seokjin wishes he could wipe that look of distress from your face. “It’s alright,” he says, still looking at you.

Surprise flickers over your expression.

Chad steps out from behind the kiosk. “Oh… my… god,” he says, eyes wide.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeat, face twisted in agony.

Before you can continue, your manager appears. “Go back to the kiosk, Y/N,” she says, sighing. “There are a bunch of customers to take care of. I’ll handle this.”

It appears you wish to say more, but a stern look from Brandi is silencing. Giving Seokjin an apologetic look, you turn on your heel to walk across the food court.

Brandi waits until you are out of earshot before looking at Seokjin. “I’m sorry about the disruption,” she offers.

Seokjin tears his gaze away. “It’s okay.”

“What?!” Chad stomps out to point a finger at Brandi. “It is not okay! You and your dumb drones wrecked our display!”

Brandi looks at his finger, unimpressed. She glances at Seokjin. “You can throw that helicopter away. If anything of yours has been damaged, let me know. We’ll pay for it – just send me an itemized receipt by the end of the day, okay?”

Seokjin nods, a bit thrown by the interaction. “Yeah, alright. Sounds good.”

Brandi looks at him thankfully, turning around to return to her kiosk. Once she is gone, Chad whirls on Seokjin.

“Man, what the fuck?”

Bending, Seokjin picks up a lone fidget spinner. “What do you mean, what the fuck?”

“They should’ve…” Chad trails off, shaking his head. “Done more. I don’t know. They should’ve cleaned up the whole area, or something!”

Seokjin snorts, replacing the toy on the counter. “Relax,” he says. “It’s not like anything is seriously damaged. We just need to re-stock the display and besides, they don’t know how to do that. It’ll be faster if we do it.”

“Even so,” Chad mutters. He begins cleaning up, casting an angry glance in the direction of the Drone Dome. “They should still fucking pay.”

“They will, if anything’s broken,” Seokjin says simply.

He then tunes Chad out, putting himself to work. Re-stocking Bertha takes a while but, in the end, Seokjin is happier with its order. He keeps thinking you will stop by after your shift, but you do not. Perhaps you are too embarrassed to do so, or maybe Brandi warned you not to go near them again.

Whatever the reason, Seokjin cannot leave before closing. When he finally passes kiosk on his way to the gym, everything is closed, and you are nowhere in sight.

Seokjin lingers a moment before he moves on.

SLAM.

Seokjin drops his barbells, the sound echoing through the gym in a satisfying way. Several women on the elliptical look up in annoyance.

“Sorry!” Seokjin calls, wiping sweat from his neck.

Although the women continue to glare, they return to their workout. Jungkook snickers into the sleeve of his t-shirt, biceps bulging beneath the tight fit of his clothes. Pulling a power bar from his pocket, Jungkook waves at the weights Seokjin discarded.

“Give me ten more.”

Seokjin glares. “Go choke.”

“Can’t.” Unwrapping his snack, Jungkook takes a large bite. “Told my current hook-up that was just for her.”

“Gross.” Seokjin groans, bending to grab the weights. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Jungkook grins, displaying chocolate and teeth. “Ten more,” he repeats.

Despite several muttered curse words under his breath, Seokjin obeys. Dropping the weights again on the floor – in direct defiance of the no weight-dropping sign – Seokjin grabs his knees with both hands.

“Alright,” he huffs, squinting at Jungkook. “I don’t care anymore if I’m in shape. I care more about snacks. Snacks and alcohol.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that.” Jungkook takes another bite. “I’m using one of my free guest passes on you, so you better be worth it.”

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin takes a long swig from his water bottle. Despite this, he still follows Jungkook as they walk to the treadmills. Jungkook is right, he is doing Seokjin a favor by letting him work out for free. Truth be told, Seokjin hated Jungkook when he first began at the mall. Jungkook was young, good- looking and got tons of attention – male and female, alike.

He was the competition.

Over time though, this distrust dissolved and somehow, Jungkook is now one of Seokjin’s closest friends. When he is not annoying the hell out of him, that is.

Throwing his wrapper in the trash, Jungkook wipes both palms on his pants. “So.” Stepping onto a treadmill, he turns the speed to three. “How’s it going with drone girl?”

Seokjin follows suit. “She knocked over my display today.”

“Like, on purpose?”

“Nah.” Seokjin shakes his head. “On accident. She was doing a demo and one of the helicopter drones broke. Crashed into my kiosk.”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Still – annoying. Increase your speed.”

Seokjin obeys. “Eh,” he huffs, beginning to jog. “I don’t think it was on purpose. But still, she’s just so frustrating.”

“What’s frustrating? Increase your speed again to four.”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin says, following suit. “She’s frustrating. She has this way of looking at me, you know?”

“Looking at you in like, a creepy way?”

“No…” Seokjin’s feet pound the treadmill. “She’s a tease.”

“Sounds hot.”

“She keeps messing with me.”

“You keep messing with her.”

“She made fun of my fidget spinners!”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. To add insult to injury, he barely seems winded at all by their run and Seokjin is panting.

“Dude. Fidget spinners suck. I’ve heard you say that on multiple occasions.”

“Sure, but she doesn’t have to say that!”

“Whatever, bro.” Jungkook grins. “Sounds to me like you want to fuck her.”

Seokjin is so startled, he nearly trips on the treadmill. “I do not.”

“No judgement here! Do it once, get it out of your system.”

“I don’t want to fuck her, Jungkook.” Seokjin glares in his direction. “She hates me. And I hate her!”

“O-h,” Jungkook says knowingly. “So, you’re in love with her. I get it. Increase your speed to five.”

Seokjin obeys, face turning beet-red. “Jungkook,” he growls. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

Reaching out, Seokjin turns the speed on Jungkook’s treadmill to eight.

“Hey!” Jungkook yelps, breaking into a sprint. He manages to keep up, pushing a hand through his hair. When Seokjin rolls his eyes, Jungkook grins. “Nailed it.”

Seokjin returns to his machine. “Besides, you’re one to talk,” he mutters. “Aren’t you in love with the juice girl, or something?”

On reflex, Jungkook glances over his shoulder. Seokjin can tell by his lovesick expression he is right. Juice girl only started working recently at the gym and from what Seokjin can tell, Jungkook is entirely smitten. He has never been subtle about the women he likes, but with juice girl, Jungkook seems to have met his match.

She is completely immune to his charms. Seokjin cannot help but feel sympathy for the guy. Or – at least, he does until Jungkook returns to him with a grin.

“So.” He wriggles his eyebrows. “How hot is kiosk girl, anyways?”

“No.” Seokjin reaches out to increase Jungkook’s incline. “You’re not going to fuck my mortal enemy.”

“Well, if you’re not going to.”

“Think about juice girl!” Seokjin yells – entirely unintentional, but he is running out of breath.

Jungkook retaliates by upping his speed. By the end of their sprint, Seokjin feels like collapsing. He steps off his treadmill with wobbly legs, feeling as though he has just run a marathon. Not that Seokjin would ever run a marathon, of course, but he can imagine. Jungkook follows suit, hopping down from his machine.

“Good workout.” Jungkook wipes his forehead with a towel. “Wanna come over and hang? Hoseok from Foot Locker is gonna come, too.”

Seokjin nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “Yeah, okay.” He glances again at the door, but your kiosk is too far to see. “Sounds good to me.”

As they walk towards the locker rooms, Jungkook chatters aimlessly but Seokjin cannot stop thinking about you. While he showers and changes, Jungkook’s words replay in his mind. The idea of Seokjin having a crush on you is insane. The two of you have barely exchanged one nice word since you met.

Still. Snapping a towel free from his neck, Seokjin continues to wonder. He does think about you an awful lot. Usually, he is thinking of new ways to annoy you, but that is more than he thinks about anyone else. Chad, for instance – or Lisa.

Frowning, Seokjin slams shut his locker. He cannot ignore the initial attraction he had for you. If you had not been his competition, Seokjin would have probably asked you out.

The moment he thinks this, he freezes. Maybe this is why you annoy him so much – Seokjin is attracted to you and can do nothing about it.

Under any other set of circumstances, this fact would be enlightening but things being what they are though, nothing has changed. You still hate him. Seokjin still finds you his competition.

Staring at his locker, Seokjin’s lips twist.

“Seokjin!” Jungkook yells from the door. “You coming, or what?”

Jerking himself free from his thoughts, Seokjin picks up his bag. “Coming!” he yells, pushing you from his mind.

Seokjin has the next two days off work. He uses this mainly to work on his apps, pouring time and energy into working the kinks from his latest round of updates. In between each stroke of his keyboard, he is thinking of you.

Seokjin hates Jungkook a little, for pointing out the obvious fact that he likes you. Before that, Seokjin took his fixation with you at face value. He did not like you; he was just annoyed by you. Now, though.

He cannot help but wonder.

Exhaling loudly, Seokjin slumps against his kiosk. His manager is off once again – honestly, that dude never works – and Seokjin is stuck working with Chad. Absently, Seokjin twirls a spinner around his finger.

“You okay, man?” Chad breaks the silence.

Shaking his head, Seokjin stares into space. “Oh, yeah. Just a bit preoccupied, that’s all.”

“With what?”

Seokjin shrugs, not feeling like talking.

Chad is one of the few people capable of getting under his skin without saying a word. It is something about the way Chad stands – chest puffed, gaze lazy, as though the world owes him something. He always wears a backwards cap, even inside and Seokjin suspects a receding hairline to be the cause. Whatever the reason, Chad always has a chip on his shoulder.

He seems to be compensating for something. Although what he could be compensating for, as a white male in today’s economy, Seokjin has no idea.

“Hey.” Voice lowering, Chad nods towards the food court. “I know something which might cheer you up.”

Seokjin straightens when he realizes Chad is staring at you. Anything which cheers Chad up could only have the opposite effect upon Seokjin.

“What?” Seokjin asks, suspicious.

Chad leans in. “You know the bitch who ruined our display a few days ago?”

Seokjin’s jaw tightens, hearing you called a bitch. “What about it?”

“Ha.” Chad laughs, not hearing the clear warning in Seokjin’s tone. “Don’t worry about paying her back. I got this.”

Alarm bells go off in Seokjin’s mind. “What do you mean by, ‘I got this?’”

“Let’s just say it’s taken care of.”

“No.” Seokjin drops his phone, standing up from his chair. “Let’s say more. What the fuck did you do, Chad?”

Chad blinks at him in surprise. “Whoa – chill, dude. What’re you pissed about?”

Seokjin pauses, uncertain. It is not as though he knows you, not really. But still – Seokjin remembers how sincere you looked that day, apologizing for the display. You did not mean to injure their kiosk; he knows that much.

“Chad…” Seokjin mutters in warning.

He does not get further before screams erupt from the food court. Seokjin’s head whips sideways, spotting the source of the commotion. Once again, a drone is loose in the mall. Like two days prior, a rogue helicopter flies over the food court. It seems out of control, dive-bombing people at random and sending them running.

Seokjin’s mouth drop. Before he can move, the drone careens towards the ground. A girl stands alone next to the frozen yogurt place, holding her cone and staring at it in terror. Her eyes widen, fixed on the drone and Seokjin moves on instinct, darting into the crowd.

Before he can arrive, the girl’s mom appears to yank her to safety. Her cone spills in the process, mint chocolate chip on the ground, but at least the helicopter misses, swooping and diving again. Seokjin’s eyes narrow, realizing the drone moves much too fast to be out of control.

Glancing around, Seokjin realizes Chad is on his phone. When he sees Seokjin looking, Chad waves at him with a grin.

Seokjin’s stomach heaves. Before he can move, you are barreling towards him.

“YOU!” you yell, pointing a finger. Several people between you look up in surprise.

Seokjin blinks, also pointing at himself. “Me?”

“You!” you gasp, skidding to a stop. “What the hell did you do to my drone?”

You are holding several remotes in your fist, Seokjin realizes. Apparently, none of them are working. The helicopter swoops dangerously close to you both and Seokjin ducks out of the way.

“What did I do?” he blurts, staring upwards. “You think I’m the one behind this?”

“No, shit!” you yell, dodging the drone.

“Y/N, I –” The chopper dive-bombs again and Seokjin groans. This is not going to make you believe him, but he needs to do something before someone gets hurt. “Fuck it!” he yells and takes off.

Sprinting away, Seokjin hears you yelling behind him. Ignoring you, Seokjin leaps onto a table. He is not sure how Chad is controlling the helicopter – possibly from his phone, but Seokjin would not put it past him to have someone stationed elsewhere in the mall. Based on the depth of his vengeance on Twitter, Seokjin imagines Chad to be petty.

All Seokjin knows is he needs to stop the drone and a sure-fire way of doing that is getting the drone from the air.

Above, the drone does a loop before dive-bombing a cluster of girls exiting the lingerie store. The girls squeal, scatting in every direction as the helicopter pulls from its spiral. Leaping into the air, Seokjin’s fingers barely brush a wing before falling back to the ground.

“SEOKJIN, GET BACK HERE!”

Ignoring you, Seokjin continues pursuing the drone. “Sorry!” he yells, dodging a woman. “Y/N, this isn’t what it looks like!”

Your footsteps pound behind him, catching up. “It looks like you hijacked one of your drones!”

“See!” Seokjin glances over his shoulder. “I told you it wasn’t what it looks like!”

“Huh?”

“Aha!” Seokjin leaps into the air. Fuck – he barely misses. Crashing again to the ground, Seokjin takes off running. He uses his next jump to leap onto a table.

A guy looks up from his hot dog, mustard dribbled onto his chin. “What the f –”

Seokjin leaps into the air, fingers grazing the wing of the helicopter. Eyes narrowed, Seokjin swears as his heels hit the ground. A mother nearby covers the ears of her child.

“Sorry!” Seokjin yells in response.

A hand grabs his arm. “Kim Seokjin!” you blurt, whirling him sideways to face you.

Seokjin glances over your shoulder in distress. “It’s getting away!” he blurts, shaking free to sprint towards the fro-yo.

Your mouth drops, but you follow. “What are you doing?”

Not having the breath to answer, Seokjin runs faster. For the first time in his life, he is grateful Jungkook pushes him so hard at the gym. Jumping again in the air, Seokjin thinks he has done it – until you jump suddenly in front of him, swatting his hand.

“Hey!” Seokjin yelps, stumbling as he hands. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

“Mine!” you yell, darting forward.

“Wait – Y/N!”

Grumbling, he chases after you. The two of you must look ridiculous, racing around the food court. As you pass Auntie Anne’s pretzels, Seokjin swears he can hear Yoongi cracking up at the register.

One second, you are ahead of him and the next, Seokjin is. He runs faster, pumping his arms as he spots the drone by the fountain. Cutting you off, Seokjin puts on a sudden burst of speed and leaps into the air. His fingers wrap around metal, yanking the helicopter from the sky. As he descends, Seokjin cannot help but laugh – until your hand finds his elbow, pulling him sideways.

Seokjin yelps, stumbling when his feet hit the concrete.

There is a dangerous, teetering moment where you both hover at the edge of the fountain – and then he falls, taking you with. Seokjin yelps, soaked to the skin when a water jet hits his face. A second splash follows as your butt hits the water.

If feels like a scene from a movie; that moment when a song cuts at a party. One second, everything is happening and the next – nothing.

Slowly, Seokjin pushes himself to sit in the water. The trickling sound of the fountain fills his ears, one of his hands resting on something which is definitely not a penny.

“Gross,” Seokjin groans, seeing the wad of pink gum.

His pants are soaked, so is his shirt and Seokjin does not even want to imagine the state of his hair. Removing his hand from the water gum, Seokjin looks up.

You glare back at him, making Seokjin recoil.

At least the drone is down.

Seokjin can see its red wings submerged in the water, bobbing genteelly in the waves of the fountain. Slowly, the sounds of the mall filter back in. Someone nearby snickers and someone else starts to clap. In his peripheral, Seokjin can see a few teenagers recording and slowly, he closes his eyes. If he goes viral, there is no way his manager will keep him.

You seem to realize the same thing, glancing around you in panic. Seokjin realizes your situation is noticeably worse than his, since you were wearing a white t-shirt when you fell. The material sticks to your skin, making each curve of your body apparent.

Seokjin swallows, understanding crashing into him with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt.

He likes you.

Fuck. Seokjin likes you, and he is a giant idiot.

Snickering at the food court grabs Seokjin’s attention. It appears he is not the only one to have noticed your shirt. At least your bra is white, but this does not seem to matter to fifteen-year-old boys.

Glancing down, you inhale and cover your chest. Seokjin awkwardly tries to stand, rushing forward to help but slips in the process, nearly falling again. It does not seem as though you desire his help anyways, springing to your feet with tears in your eyes.

Teeth chattering, you hold one hand before you. “Stay away,” you blurt, wet strands of hair plastered against your face. As though unable to help yourself, your lower lip quivers. “I fucking mean it, Seokjin. Stay away from me.”

Seokjin’s feet falter beneath him. “I…” Staring at you, he slowly nods in defeat. “Okay.”

You bend, scooping the helicopter into your arms before turning away.

Giving him another scowl, you climb from the fountain. Your sneakers make squishing noises against the linoleum as you stalk through the food court. Seokjin continues to stand there, ignoring the water jets which repeatedly hit his kneecaps.

His stomach sinks, watching you disappear.

Logically, Seokjin should go and find mall security. He should explain to them what happened before they find him, or worse – before he goes viral on the web. Less logically, Seokjin wants to run after you. He cannot simply leave things between you like that.

At the very least, he should find you a dry t-shirt. Maybe Hoseok could get him one from Foot Locker.

Because this is partly his fault. Seokjin was not the one who took over the drone and he did not push you into the fountain, but you only reacted that way because of how Seokjin has treated you. It was not a wild leap of thought to assume Seokjin was the culprit.

Before he can think about this further, a laugh breaks through the crowd. Turning around, Seokjin sees Chad running towards him.

“Wow.” Chad skids to a stop at the fountain. “That was incredible. Did you see how wet she was? And guess who got it all on camera?” He winks, waving his phone.

“Did you?” Seokjin speaks pleasantly, although he is starting to see red. “Can I see that?”

“Sure.” Chad grins, handing over the phone.

Accepting the object, Seokjin promptly throws this into the fountain.

Chad’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck?” he blurts, watching the metal sink to the bottom.

Seokjin brushes off his hands. “You’re fired,” he says, stepping out of the fountain. Water drips from his shirt, splashing the ground at his feet.

Chad’s eyes bug. “You can’t fire me, asshole. You’re not my manager.”

“Maybe not.” Seokjin shrugs and walks past. His hands open and close, curling into fists. “But he likes me better than you and he’ll believe me when I say this was your fault.”

“You dick!”

“That’s right,” Seokjin mutters. He glances at your kiosk, only to find it empty – Brandi must be helping you to clean up. Something twinges in his chest, knowing this is partly his fault. “I guess I am.”

One week later, Seokjin cannot stop thinking about you.

He tries to forget. Truly, he does but this proves itself to be more difficult than he realized. Seokjin did not understand before, how deeply you integrated yourself in his life. He did not realize how much he looked forward each day to your banter, to hearing your laugh whenever he passed by your kiosk. The past month has been bearable only because of your presence.

Slumped at the counter of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, Seokjin stares forlornly across the food court.

“Either smile or move.”

Seokjin turns to Yoongi in confusion. “Huh?”

“Either smile,” Yoongi repeats. “Or move. You’re bumming out all my customers.”

Seokjin glances at the empty food court before him. It is 10:00 AM. “What customers?”

“Exactly. All my customers are scared off by how sad you are.”

Seokjin manages a weak chuckle. “Trust me, my face is not what’s driving your customers away. If anything, it’s your latest SoundCloud mix.”

Yoongi frowns, perturbed. “Take that back.”

Seokjin winces, seeing the genuine hurt on his face. “Sorry, man,” he mumbles. “I’m just not in a great mood today.”

“No shit.”

Seokjin cracks a smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“Much in the same way climate change is obvious to everyone but the Cheeto.”

Stifling a laugh, Seokjin quickly sobers. “I just… I don’t know. I thought she’d hear me out, at least.”

The entire past week, Seokjin has parked at the opposite end of the mall from your kiosk. It makes his morning walk shorter, but somehow lonelier.

“So, this is about her, huh?” Yoongi lowers his elbows to the counter. “She’s gone incommunicado.”

“Yeah, it’s about her. I guess I can’t really blame her for being mad at me.”

“No?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “I was kind of a dick.”

Yoongi snorts. “She was a dick, too.”

“Yeah, but I started it.” Seokjin takes a sip of his coffee. “I was the one who approached her all weird, called her the competition. That set a tone.”

“Okay.” Yoongi tilts his head, thinking. “So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m going to do nothing about it.”

“Then stop complaining to me.”

“I’m not complaining!” Seokjin looks up and sighs. “Alright, maybe I’m complaining a little. I just… wish I’d realized I liked her sooner.”

“Who cares about that? Tell her now!”

“But she hates me.”

“She hated you then!”

Seokjin glares and takes another sip of his coffee – sputtering, he chokes, “Oh, shit – that’s hot.”

“Hey.” Yoongi gives him a look. “She thinks you messed with her job. That’s way different than wearing tight pants, or putting on a fidget show, or whatever.”

“Fidget spinner show, Yoongi. Fidget show sounds like something else.”

“Both are lame,” Yoongi says. “And my point still stands. She’s mad at you now because of something you didn’t do. Now, move your elbow – I need to clean that spot before lunch.”

Seokjin obliges, dutifully removing himself from the counter. Drinking his coffee, he stares out at the food court. Up until now, Seokjin thought he was doing the noble thing. He was respecting your wishes by giving you space. You said you did not wish to see him again.

Yoongi is right, though. You said all that laboring under a misconception. More than respecting the words said in anger, perhaps it is better for Seokjin to tell you the truth. Maybe pretending to be noble is just another way of chickening out.

Because if Seokjin explains everything to you and you still do not care, it means he is alone in all this. His feelings are one-sided and everything before now was merely a rivalry. The spark Seokjin feels when he looks at you, the burning desire to kiss you – if you knew all that and still hated him, then Seokjin would be alone.

Seokjin exhales and looks up. “Gotta go,” he says, slapping the counter. “See you after your shift?’

“Wait!” Yoongi catches his arm before Seokjin can leave. “Bracelet buddies?” he grins, holding up the pink cat charm wound around his wrist.

Seokjin groans, dutifully rolling up his sleeve to showcase the pale pink alpaca. “Bracelet buddies,” he says glumly.

Yoongi gave him the gift several days ago; payback, he said, for all the women Seokjin has sent his way with the promise of a free pretzel. That used to be Seokjin’s way of scoring dates at the mall. At least, before he met you. Seokjin is obligated to wear said bracelet for three months, or else Yoongi will send their friends pictures of him sleeping with his mouth open on the couch.

If he is being honest, Seokjin does not entirely hate the bracelet. The alpaca is kind of cute, but Yoongi cannot ever know that. Waving goodbye, he manages to scowl and keep up appearances when he heads towards his kiosk.

For the next several days, Seokjin continues to wimp out.

Kind of.

While he does not actually explain what happened, he tries to make up for it in other ways. On Monday, he overhears you telling the Kay Jewelers girl the legs of your stool are too short. As a result, Seokjin volunteers to work late and stays long after closing. Before he leaves, he goes to your kiosk and switches your stool for his.

On Thursday morning, your shifts overlap. Seokjin sees you yawn passing his kiosk, mentioning to Brandi you did not sleep well the night prior. Ducking behind his counter, Seokjin does not make eye contact.

Still, he stops by Java Joe’s on his break and begs Taehyung for coffee.

Taking the long way back through the mall, Seokjin visits your kiosk. It is the first time he has tried talking to you since the Great Fountain debacle. As you come into view, Seokjin swallows and forces the words from his lips.

“Hey.” He comes to a stop at the register.

You freeze when you see him. “Um. Hi?”

Seokjin holds the coffee tray out like a shield. “I was at Java Joe’s and Taehyung brewed too much espresso. Lisa doesn’t drink it, so I was wondering if you wanted it?”

Your lips part, staring at him for a moment.

When you do not immediately respond, Seokjin starts to sweat. “You don’t have to take it,” he says quickly. “I can give it to someone else. It’s too much for me though, and you were on the way back from the shop…”

Trailing off, Seokjin wonders if this entire endeavor is foolish. The tray he is holding is full – four, small cups of espresso which cost an hour of pay. Of course, you do not need to know that. You only need to know that he thought of you.

“I – yeah,” you say slowly, reaching out for a cup. “Thanks, Seokjin.”

Seokjin blinks, since your response was almost cordial. Before he can get too excited about this, Brandi appears.

“Wow, thanks!” she enthuses, grabbing a cup. “That was so nice of you to do this.”

“Right.” Seokjin deflates just a little. It is not as if he does not want Brandi to have espresso, but he was hoping for a shared moment with you. “Just spreading the love – or caffeine, as it were. Anyways…” His laughter trails off, gaze darting to you. “Guess I have one more cup to distribute. Enjoy!”

He turns around too fast for you to respond.

Each step he takes, Seokjin half-expects to hear you call out behind him. If this were pre-Fountain Incident, you probably would have. An insult, or horrible pun – something to let Seokjin know you were watching him walk away, but now there is only silence.

This goes on for a week. Seokjin continues to do nice things for you, passing by in the hopes you will say hi. He holds his breath and hopes you will speak first, but it seems you are determined to continue icing him out.

Seokjin supposes he cannot blame you for this. It is not as though you were friends, after all.

He has almost accepted the idea that you will continue being strangers when one day, Seokjin looks up and finds you at the register.

All words instantly die in his throat.

If he thought he was in the process of getting over you, Seokjin was sorely mistaken. The days of silence have not lessened his want, but only intensified it. It makes him swallow, uncertain, which must be a first. Out of all his friends, Seokjin is not the one to call shy.

Tentatively, you smile and Seokjin realizes he still has not spoken.

“H-hi,” he stammers.

Your shoulders seem to relax at his nervousness. “Hi. Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Seokjin says, slamming his register shut. “Lisa is on break, but it’s been a slow afternoon.”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Same. Guess we finally found those lulls you were on about.”

Seokjin chuckles under his breath. The space between you falls silent again.

“I, uh…” Twisting your hands before you, you seem unsure what to say. “I haven’t seen you around, lately.”

Seokjin’s heart stutters. “Oh. I guess.”

“That’s kind of my fault,” you say. Seokjin’s gaze drops to your hands, which continue to twist. He finds the gesture oddly endearing. “I was the one who told you to stay away.”

Arching a brow, Seokjin turns towards the register. He does not know what to say without being rude. Yes, seems like the most obvious answer, but that could be construed as impolite. Casually, he sneaks a peek sideways. You are right, though – this is partly your fault, also. Even if the other fault is his own.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I don’t blame you for saying that, though.”

“You don’t?”

Curiosity laces your tone and Seokjin looks up, surprised to see a question mark in your gaze.

“Brandi told me Chad was fired,” you add.

Seokjin stills. “Yeah. He was.”

You pause, as though waiting for an explanation. When none comes, you narrow your eyes. “He was the one who messed with that drone, wasn’t he? Not you.”

“I – yeah, I guess so.”

Exasperation enters your gaze. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did!” Seokjin protests. “I told you when we were chasing after the drone and you didn’t believe me!”

“Oh,” you say, wilting a bit. “Right.”

Seeing your face, Seokjin softens. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”

“Is it?” you ask in disbelief. “I yelled at you in front of the entire mall for something you didn’t do, and you’re saying its fine?”

Seokjin’s lips quirk. “Well, when you put it like that.”

When you roll your eyes at the ceiling, he laughs. Weirdly, it feels good to have you disparage him a little. It feels as though you are on even footing again.

“I mean, it’s not like we were friends,” Seokjin continues. “Why wouldn’t you think it was me?”

“Hm.” You blink, taken aback. “I guess you’re right.”

After another long moment, Seokjin adds, “We could try to be friends now, though. If you want.”

You bite down on your lip. “Are you giving me a formal offer, Seokjin? Should I sign on the dotted line somewhere?”

“I can make a contract if you want. All good peace treaties are in writing.”

“Is that what this is? A peace treaty?”

“Of a sort.” Seokjin raises a brow. “I can’t promise to stop kicking your ass in sales, though. I was born talented.”

“Or, maybe it’s Maybelline,” you shoot back. “I wouldn’t want you to stop, though. It’s been too quiet around here without you blasting Backstreet Boys.”

“Liked what you heard?”

“Who doesn’t like Backstreet Boys?”

“Monsters.”

“Agreed.”

“Wow.” Seokjin’s brow furrows. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever agreed with me.”

“I know.” After a moment, you frown. “It’s oddly unsettling.”

Seokjin laughs – a short, surprised burst which makes you smile. “Well...” Trailing off, he finds himself unsure what more to say. “Is that why you came over?”

“Let’s see.” You lift a hand, ticking things off on your fingers. “Tell you I know you didn’t sabotage my job. Check. Ask to be friends? Check. Oh,” you add, as though only remembering. “There was something else I wanted to say.

Seokjin waits, holding his breath as you start to lean in.

Angelic, you smile. “I lied before,” you say. “We aren’t having a lull. See you around!”

Dropping a wink, you turn to walk across the food court. Seokjin watches you go, legs having effectively turned to jelly in your presence. It is unfair that you have this effect on him. Slowly, he lowers himself onto his stool. It would seem the two of you are friends now.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Seokjin wonders what he has gotten himself into.

Over the next couple of weeks, Seokjin stops by your kiosk more often. He learns your usual morning coffee order – a grande iced Americano – and occasionally brings it along. You seem to have switched to the morning shift, he notices. Before, it was about fifty-fifty which time of the day you showed up.

At some point, Seokjin explains about his former job and current app development side projects. This turns into a running joke of him bouncing ideas off you.

“Okay,” you say, folding your hands across a wan food court table.

Seokjin takes a sip of his coffee. “Okay, what?”

“Okay, what’s today’s app idea?”

Seokjin snorts. It is 10:00 AM and neither of you must be at your shift yet but somehow, you both managed to arrive early.

“What about this?” Seokjin leans back in his chair. “Angry birds, but – instead of birds, its photos of friends that you upload yourself.”

“Pass.”

“Hm. A Bachelorette fantasy league app?”

“Hard no.”

“Okay, so this one is a kid’s game.”

“Go on.”

“A kid’s game where you change the oil of your dad’s car as fast as you can.”

You snort, nearly spilling your drink. “Seokjin! That’s a terrible app idea.”

“Bonus points if you spill no oil on the driveway!”

“Seokjin!”

He grins. “Yeah, Yoongi said it was bad, too. I don’t get it.”

“Please.” Shaking your head, your smile fades the longer you look at him. “I don’t believe any of those are your actual idea, though.”

“Huh?” Seokjin blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Those are just the ideas you tell people to make them laugh,” you observe. “It gets them off your back, so you don’t have to say your actual idea. You know, the one you really care about.”

Seokjin pauses, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You arch a brow. “I get it. That’s how I am with my writing. Freelance doesn’t exactly pay for dreams, does it? I tend to downplay my favorite ideas, so then if they don’t work out – hey, at least it wasn’t something I cared about. You know?”

Seokjin is not quite sure how to respond. In only a few sentences, you have looked inside him and summarized his thoughts. No one – not even Yoongi, whom Seokjin has known for years – is able to read him as well.

Inhaling gently, Seokjin leans back from the table. “Well,” he admits. “There is this one idea.”

“Oh?”

Nodding, Seokjin considers where to begin. “Do you know what fair lending is?”

“Not really, no.”

“It’s the unbiased treatment of customers by banks.” Seokjin pauses and, when you do not seem bored with the topic, begins to speak freely. “It ensures financial institutions provide uniform services, regardless of bias.”

“Gotcha. So, it’s like equal opportunity but for banks?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “Basically, I want to create a fair lending app. There is a lot out there to help with credit decisions and stuff, but I want to put it all in one place. I want to break down the ‘non-biased metrics’ banks use and warn people how there could be bias involved.”

Your frown. “What do you mean?”

“Take income, for example.” Seokjin grips his cup tighter. “The vast majority of people below the poverty line are minorities. So, if a bank has a hard and fast income requirement for a loan, they inadvertently discriminate. It’s why a variety of factors are mandated to assist in … what?” Seokjin blinks, seeing you staring. “What is it?”

Hiding a smile, you shake your head. “Nothing, it’s just a cool idea. I think you should do it.”

“But then who will make bachelorette fantasy app?” Seokjin jokes, ducking his head.

“Someone else.” You wait until he looks up. “Do the fair lending app.”

Seokjin finds he cannot think of another joke. “Alright,” he says slowly. “It’s a plan.”

You nod, sipping your coffee as silence falls in between you. It is unnerving, how easy it is for Seokjin to talk to you. With most people, it takes him a while to show his true colors but with you, he finds he cannot be anyone else.

Glancing at his watch, Seokjin realizes how late it is. “Shit,” he mutters, jumping out of his seat. “It’s nearly 10:30.”

You wince, standing as well. “Damn, do you have to open today?”

“Unfortunately so.” Seokjin grabs his coffee. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay, Y/N?”

“Okay,” you say, waving when he turns out of sight.

Seokjin does not hesitate to walk away. He curses himself the entire way to his kiosk because he is becoming much too comfortable with being your friend. Enough that he keeps catching himself thinking about more.

It is hard not to think about his hands wrapped around yours on your coffee cup. Hard not to imagine carpooling with you in his car to work. Seokjin tries to be on his best behavior but still, the fantasies worm their way in.

It is why he has created several rules of conduct around you. First and foremost is never stay for too long. The second Seokjin feels himself becoming attached, he leaves. Like now, for instance. Seokjin does not really have to be at the kiosk before eleven but the way you were looking at him made his heart beat out of his chest.

Self-preservation, he reminds himself.

The rules are working until Taehyung throws a party.

“Saturday night,” Taehyung grunts, slamming Seokjin’s coffee order on the counter.

Seokjin blinks, reaching up to take both cups. Lately, Taehyung has been in the worst kind of mood. This mostly seems to stem from his hot co-worker who will not take him seriously. All the guys in the mall gave him shit about it before, but the kid really does seem to like her. Which sucks, since Taehyung has a reputation and the pretty barista clearly has heard of it.

“The party is at your place?” asks Seokjin, glancing up at the counter.

Taehyung nods. Loud enough for his co-worker to hear, he adds, “The party will be at my place this weekend! Can’t wait to see you there, Seokjin!”

Seokjin snorts, shaking his head. “You’re whipped, man,” he whispers. Then, loud enough for the female barista to hear, he adds, “I’ll be there! In fact, everyone should come!”

The girl does not react, busy at the register and Seokjin shrugs.

Sorry man, he mouths to Taehyung before pushing open the door. Making his way through the mall, Seokjin walks past your kiosk – only to see you deep in conversation with another guy. Seokjin does not recognize him as your co-worker, but he does recognize him from the gym.

Occasionally, Jungkook talks to him before they work out. Seokjin never found the guy threatening before.

Seeing him now though, the oddest sensation unfurls in his stomach. He does not want you talking to this guy – the desire flashes through Seokjin’s mind faster than he can stop it. Before he can turn around and leave though, before Seokjin can separate himself from the situation, you look up and smile.

“Hey, Seokjin!”

“Hey, Y/N.” Plastering a smile on his face, Seokjin forces himself to walk towards your kiosk. “And you are…?” he asks, looking at the stranger.

The guy grins, unconcerned. “Hey, I’m Josh.”

“Cool.” Seokjin returns to looking at you. “Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this weekend, Y/N?”

Everyone at the mall knows who Taehyung is. He is a staple for anyone who drinks coffee – and chances are, if you have stopped by Java Joe’s in the past three days, you are invited.

Your eyes widen. “I was thinking about it.”

“Cool.” Seokjin casually leans an elbow against your kiosk. He forgets about the wheels though, and as a result, the entire thing starts to move. Frantically attempting to right this, Seokjin nearly spills his coffee in the process.

“Anyways…” he mutters, ears turning scarlet.

You clamp your lips tightly together. “So, you’re going to be there?”

Seokjin nods. He has no idea what he is doing. He has no idea what Josh is doing, since he has not said a word since introducing himself.

Glancing at him now, Seokjin is reminded of Chad. Not because the two look anything alike, but because they both have that air about them. That condescending, could-bench-press-you-in-seconds look. Seokjin bets that, at some point in the past ten days, Josh has worn a snapback.

You are standing close very close to him, though. Seokjin cannot ignore this fact.

“Cool.” Your gaze lingers on his. “Then, I guess I’ll see you there?”

Seokjin nods. “Guess so. We’ll see!”

He turns, walking away and overhears Josh ask you details about the party. Gritting his teeth, Seokjin uncurls his hands from their fists. You are not his to be jealous of, he reminds himself. He has no right to be angry if you decide to date someone else. But still, Seokjin’s mood remains sour for the rest of the day.

You do not visit at the end of your shift. If could be because you are genuinely busy. Or, it could be something else. Or, someone.

Seokjin has the next two days off. He uses them to work on his fair lending app, getting a good bit of coding done in his apartment. Your voice plays in his mind as he works, telling him to go for what he wants.

Seokjin is tired of working at the Fidget Funk. He is tired of waking up every morning, going to a job he hates and feeling as though he is doing nothing with his life. What was supposed to be a temp job has stretched into months and Seokjin needs to act for anything about this to change.

There is only so long he can complain before doing something about it.

He wants to do what he loves; wants to do something he cares about – not this. Sometimes, making that decision is the hardest part.

The night of the party, Seokjin drives there with Yoongi. Yoongi, surprisingly agrees to come with little coercion. Usually, Seokjin needs to drag his taciturn roommate to social events. He was easily convinced tonight though, which results in Seokjin being more nervous than normal.

As they enter Taehyung’s apartment, he pauses on the threshold.

If he had your number, he would have texted to see if you were coming, but Seokjin does not and so, he could not. Wandering into the room, Seokjin winces when no one removes their shoes. Parties are always strangely barbaric in that regard.

Taehyung’s apartment with his roommate, Jimin, is much larger than his. Seokjin remembers Taehyung saying Jimin came from money but does not remember specifics. Jimin is a night nurse at NorthShore Medical center and often stops by Java Joe’s in the morning for coffee. Other than that, Seokjin does not know much about him.

Walking inside, Seokjin realizes Taehyung has downplayed Jimin’s wealth. There is no way they could afford this place on a nurse and barista salary. A bunch of people are outside – because there is an outside; a large balcony overlooking the city – chatting about nothing over the rims of their drinks.

Yoongi disappears as soon as they enter, heading off to god-knows-where. He leaves Seokjin alone, who shifts his weight about nervously. Glancing up, he spots Namjoon in the kitchen and hastily rushes towards him. Finally, a familiar face.

“Joon!” he calls out.

Namjoon waves, re-filling the cup in his hand. When Seokjin reaches his side, he hands another to Seokjin. “Hey,” Namjoon nods. “You just get here?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin scans the party again, red cup in one hand. “Is everything c –”

Cutting himself off mid-sentence, Seokjin stares when you walk into the room. Everything he wanted to say falls from his brain to the floor. It is not unlike that one scene in She’s All That, when Laney comes down the stairs and Freddie Prinze Jr. loses his mind. Seokjin cannot think, looking at you.

A red cup is in your hand, matching the red gloss on your lips and god, Seokjin cannot stop thinking about kissing it off.

He swallows, hard – and then notices the guy at your side.

You laugh, turning sideways to Josh. Because that is who it is, of course – the same muscle- bound jock you were talking to at the drone kiosk earlier.

Jungkook appears as well, clapping Josh on the shoulder. Seokjin scowls, swallowing a larger sip of his drink than intended. First, this guy tries to steal his girl and now, his best friend. Eyes widening, Seokjin straightens. Shit, you are not his girl. He needs to stop thinking that way.

“Seokjin?”

Seokjin realizes Namjoon is staring at him. “Uh, yeah?”

“You trailed off in the middle of a sentence and have been hard-core staring at that girl ever since. Is – oh!” Namjoon’s eyes light up. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“That’s who?” Seokjin hastily swallows his drink.

“The girl! Fountain girl!” Namjoon shoves him. “The one you’re head over heels for!”

“Okay, fountain girl is a horrible way of describing her. And yeah, maybe that’s – shit, shut up,” Seokjin hisses. “She’s coming this way.”

Namjoon snorts into his drink. You are, indeed, waking towards them but Josh is no longer beside you. Craning his neck, Seokjin looks over your shoulder but does not see the guy anywhere.

“Hey.” You come to a stop right before them, glancing at Namjoon. “Namjoon, right?”

Namjoon sticks out a hand. “Yep. Y/N?”

You take this, stifling a smile as you shake. “Yeah.”

“And, of course, you know Seokjin.” Namjoon grins at Seokjin’s flustered expression.

“Uh-huh,” you say, offering him a tentative smile. “We go way back.”

Feeling somewhat nauseous, Seokjin takes another sip of his drink. “Y/N and I are friends.”

A flash of something – uncertainty? Annoyance? – crosses your features. “Right,” you say carefully. “Friends.”

Your expression remains stubborn though, and Seokjin wonders if he has done something wrong. Changing the subject, he glances around the apartment. “Have you been here before, Y/N?”

“No,” you confess. “But damn – which roommate won the lottery?”

Seokjin grins. “I know, right? I can show you around if you want.”

You blink, taken aback by his offer and Seokjin wonders if that was too forward. Well, fuck it – he is not getting anywhere by being subtle.

“Yeah,” you say, recovering yourself. “I’d like that.”

Pushing himself off the counter, Seokjin says goodbye to Namjoon and plunges into the party. He continues to look for hot gym guy, Josh, but does not see him anywhere. It is unlikely you came here together, but not impossible. Perhaps the two of you are dating. Perhaps you like him and want to date him in the future.

Seokjin is so busy running through what-if scenarios, he does not notice you looking at him.

“Right, so Taehyung and Jimin’s rooms are that way.” Seokjin leads through the crowd. “Aka, that hall is off limits. This is the living area and well, you already saw the balcony.” Steps faltering, Seokjin looks sideways at you. “Did you see the balcony?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Scared of heights?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, then you’re lucky.” Seokjin mutters, pushing open the sliding glass door. “Luck you never met that dick, Jared Karinsky.”

Laughing, you follow him out on the balcony. There are only a few other people outside and, once the door slides shut, it feels as though you are trapped in another world.

“Who’s Jared Karinksy?”

Glowering, Seokjin takes a sip of his drink. “Some dick who knew I didn’t like heights, but still brought me to the top of the jungle gym. Then, he left me there. It took two hours for my brother to find me and get me back down.”

Laughing, you lean against the railing. “I take it that didn’t help?”

“It did not,” says Seokjin. “If anything, my fear was worse after.”

You grin, draining the rest of your cup as the wind ruffles your hair. It makes Seokjin’s heart ache a bit to look at.

“Well, I have to say –”

The glass door slides open, interrupting whatever you were about to say. Josh’s head pops out. “Y/N!” he grins. “I was looking for you.”

You slowly turn towards the interruption. “I... oh. Hey, Josh.”

“Are you busy?” Josh glances between you and Seokjin.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Seokjin feels oddly foolish. It seems obvious now, that you came here with Josh. You must have been making a beeline for drinks when you ran into Seokjin in the kitchen. Seokjin assumed, then. He thought you were free. When he grabbed you, he was yanking you away from the guy you really wanted to be with.

“Not busy.” Seokjin drains the rest of his cup. “Not busy at all. Have fun,” he mutters, brushing your shoulder as he moves towards the door.

When he leaves, Seokjin does not look back and so, he does not see your lips part. He does not watch you stare after him with equal parts frustration and anger. All Seokjin sees is the kitchen before him, full of alcohol for him to consume. Alcohol he will need to get through the rest of this party.

He is almost to the kitchen when a hand grips his arm, yanking him around. “What the fuck was that?” you say, brows furrowed.

Seokjin stares at you, alarmed you are in such close proximity. “I – huh? What the fuck was what?”

You scowl, leaning in and Seokjin leans back. “That!” you demand, waving vaguely at the balcony. “Why did you run away?”

“Run away?” Seokjin’s gaze darts towards the offending location. “I thought you wanted to talk to that guy?”

“Why would you think that?” you ask, brows furrowing further.

“I…” Seokjin finds himself at a loss. “I don’t know. Didn’t you come here with him?”

“With Josh?” You wrinkle your nose. “You mean – my cousin, Josh?”

“…cousin?”

You nod, looking at him incredulously. “You thought I wanted to talk to my cousin, Josh, as opposed to you?”

A lightbulb clicks in Seokjin’s mind. “I – he’s your cousin?”

“Yes, he’s my cousin.” Scowling, you take a step closer. “But even if he weren’t, why would you just leave like that? We were in the middle of a conversation!”

“I don’t know!” he blurts, gaze narrowing at your tone.

Out of the two of you, Seokjin is the one with the right to be angry. You are the one looking so damn good tonight and currently yelling at him for something he does not understand.

Vaguely aware they should not have this argument in the middle of Taehyung and Jimin’s kitchen, Seokjin grabs your wrist and tugs you into the hall. The forbidden one, next to the bedrooms. Realizing this, Seokjin keeps going and decides to beg forgiveness later.

Dropping your arm, he whirls around to find you mere inches away.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” he accuses, pointing a finger. “For that matter – why didn’t you ask if I was going to the party tonight? If my presence is so important to you.”

Glaring at him, you bat his finger away. “You asked me first! Besides, I thought it was obvious I wanted you here. You know… because of the… and…”

“Because of the what?”

Somehow, you have gotten very close to Seokjin. The tips of your toes are just brushing his. Electricity crackles between you, making Seokjin’s heartbeat oddly erratic.

Glowering, your gaze darts to his lips. “Oh – seriously? Shut up and kiss me, you ass!”

Grabbing your face, Seokjin does just that. His lips crash into yours, the kiss muffled and urgent as he backs you to the wall. You groan, hands fisting in the back of his t-shirt. Seokjin cannot think beyond his hand resting on your jaw, then sliding into your hair, then moving down to your ass.

He cups you against him, head reeling from the sudden warmth of your mouth, your body and the urgency of your touch. Seokjin has never wanted someone so badly. Each brush of your lips leaves him wanting more, an endless desire alight in his veins.

Your mouth opens, tongue flicking with his as Seokjin’s heart nearly explodes. He cannot breathe – each breath mingles with yours, leaving him dizzy and parched.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to lean his arm to the wall.

You stare up at him, breathless and confused. Your chest continues to rise and fall, lips swollen from the wanton press of his mouth. Seokjin cannot look away.

“I…” He exhales, glancing towards the living room. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You nod so fast, you nearly hit your head on his chin. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Seokjin reaches down, grabbing your hand. “You good with my place? It’s only a few minutes drive.”

“Yeah,” you answer, following him down the hall. “Roommate?”

“Here. At the party.”

“Good.”

Dragging you into the foyer, Seokjin digs his phone from his pocket. Letting go of your fingers, he shoots a text off to Yoongi, telling him not to come home. He can face the consequences of that later. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Seokjin opens the door.

“Do you have a coat?” he asks, looking at you.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.” Seokjin shuts the door to the hall and the noise of the party fades. “This way?”

“Sounds good.”

When you move to walk past, Seokjin grabs your hand – he cannot help himself. Pushing you against the wall, he relishes your muffled exclamation of surprise and kisses you fiercely. Thoroughly. The way he has wanted to for so long.

Hands sliding into your hair, Seokjin feels you arch against him. Your hand is on his hip, pulling him closer and Seokjin cannot stop thinking about your hand on other places.

When he finally breaks away, you stare at his lips. “That’s…” You swallow, voice sounding strangled. “Fuck.”

Seokjin grins. “Come on.”

Grabbing you again, he pulls you into the elevator. The entire way down, the air between you is electric. Seokjin shifts his weight and you follow suit. Raising a hand, you rub the back of your neck. Seokjin’s skin prickles when he sees.

When the door dings, opening into the lobby, you suddenly come to life. Newly determined, your hand wraps around his and pulls Seokjin outside. He practically throws his keys at the valet, wondering how on earth he is going to survive the drive home without touching you. Thank god he only had that one drink tonight. It would have been torture to be so close to fucking you and then not.

Startled by the thought, Seokjin realizes the truth of the matter. He is going to see you naked. Whirling to face you, Seokjin blurts, “This isn’t some random thing. You know that, right?”

Surprised, you glance at him. “I – what?”

“This.” Seokjin steps closer and his peripheral, sees the valet hop out of his car. “I really like you, Y/N.”

Staring up at him, you blink. “You do?”

“Of course, I do! You thought I didn’t?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Of course, not!” Grabbing his keys from the valet, Seokjin opens the passenger door. He waits until you sit before crossing to the driver’s side. “Why would you think that?” he asks, sliding into the seat.

You stare at him incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Seokjin pulls out of the driveway. “I’ve liked you for so long! I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Uh! Could’ve fooled me.”

“Are you serious? I was such an idiot in front of you! What other explanation is there?”

“That you’re an idiot!” you answer, scowling. “Are you seriously saying that was your idea of flirting?”

“I mean… well, no, but…”

You snort, facing forward. “You’re so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“This!” you insist, gesturing between you.

“Oh, come on! Like you’re Juliet, or something.”

“Who?”

“Juliet! Of Romeo and Juliet!”

“They… Seokjin, they died in the end!” you say incredulously.

“Well, what do I know?” Seokjin makes a sharp right, pulling into his parking lot. “I never finished reading that play, actually – fell asleep a third of the way in. What I’m trying to say is that you’re also shit at this.”

“Oh, really?”

“You said you never wanted to speak to me again,” Seokjin reminds, throwing the car into park.

Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “I apologized for that.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to be friends!” Seokjin shoves open his door and exits the vehicle.

You exit as well, slamming the door shut. “Well, it seemed like the next logical step!”

“No.” Seokjin strides forward. Caging you against the car, he growls, “The next logical step would’ve been admitting you liked me, too.”

“Too?” You blink, stuck on the word. “So, you admit you like me?”

“Never said I didn’t.”

These last words are muttered against your lips, Seokjin cutting off further retorts with a kiss.

Arching upwards, your hands twine around his neck. Seokjin’s mind stutters, unsure what to think. His brain is a vague mess of swear words and exclamation points when his lips move against yours. It is hard to grasp the fact that you are here, with him and wanting him the same way he wants you.

Breaking apart, Seokjin rests his forehead to yours. “Okay,” he manages. “I know you said you wanted to leave with me. I know you got in my car and drove all the way here. But – because I want to be sure – do you want to come in?”

Breathlessly, you laugh. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Withdrawing, Seokjin takes your hand. “Then, let’s go.”

Climbing the outdoor stairs to reach his apartment, Seokjin pulls the keys from his pocket so he is prepared to enter. He does not check his phone, certain Yoongi has texted him multiple epithets about where he can stick his ass.

Bracing his hip against his door, Seokjin jiggles the key to shove it open. Once you are both inside, Seokjin half-expects you to wrinkle your nose. It is not as if his and Yoongi’s apartment can ever compete with Jimin and Taehyung’s.

You do none of this, though. Stepping inside, you place your purse on the counter and glance around curiously. “You live with that guy from the food court, right?” you ask, turning around. “Yoongi?”

Stepping forward, Seokjin crushes his mouth to yours.

You inhale, the noise caught by his lips when your hands slide up his back. One of your legs curls around his, rubbing your core against the meat of his thigh. Seokjin’s head spins, gripping your ass to push you against the counter. You make a muffled noise, gasping when Seokjin hardens into your crotch.

It is embarrassing how ready he is for you. All it took where a few whispered words about how badly you want him and here he is, rock-hard and on edge. Admittedly, the noises you make are not helping.

“Shit,” Seokjin breathes, kissing down the slope of your neck.

You arch your throat, allowing more access. Your skin tastes of berries and something else – probably a perfume Seokjin does not know the name of. The warm press of your core to his leg leaves Seokjin reeling.

“My room?” he gasps, hand dragging up your side.

Frantic, you nod. “Yes.”

Bending, Seokjin grips your legs and lifts you against him. He stumbles towards his bedroom, realizing too late you are heavier than he thought. Maybe Jungkook was right about adding weight to his reps. Kissing you again, Seokjin staggers into his bedroom and drops you on the bed.

Laughing, you grab your top to yank overhead. There is some skepticism to your gaze, as though you expected him to fall short in carrying you. Seokjin’s ego flames in response. Growling lowly, he rips off his shirt and descends on the bed. Parting your legs, he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“Take off your jeans.” Seokjin looks up.

You blink. “What?”

“I wanna eat you out.” Seokjin cocks a brow. “Or, is that too much?”

“No,” you glower, undoing your buttons. “Go for it.”

As you shimmy your jeans down your legs, Seokjin’s mouth dries at the sight of your panties. He did not imagine them to be lace. He did not imagine them to be quite as revealing as they are. Slowly, Seokjin reaches out to peel these aside. You inhale, arching on the bed. Seeing your pussy like that, laid out before him, he can hardly breathe.

You are wet for him. Theoretically, this makes sense, but Seokjin did not think he could make you wet. Did not think he would ever see you as drenched as you are, the lace in the middle much damper than the rest. Pressing another kiss to your knee, Seokjin inhales and makes his way higher.

Flicking your clit with his tongue, he teases at more. You mewl, curling inwards and Seokjin pushes your legs down. He sucks the length of your folds, getting you good and wet before he returns to your sex. You arch again, pussy clenching even through there is nothing inside you.

Smirking, Seokjin takes pleasure in this fact. Your folds are glistening, ready even though has not touched you yet. He has not even pushed a finger inside that tight, wet cunt of yours. Lowering his head, Seokjin’s tongue curls over your clit. He turns needy, licking until your hands fist in the sheets on either side of your body.

“Seokjin,” you groan. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Seokjin leisurely sucks on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His other hand drifts to your cunt, tracing in circles.

You moan beneath him on the bed, arching to try and push him inside. Seokjin memorizes the visual – the black lace of your bra barely hiding your nipples, hair splayed on his comforter with his hands on your thighs.

“I need more.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin lazily traces your pussy. “Want me to finger you?’

“Fuck, yes.”

“Mm.” Seokjin sucks your clit until you cry out from pleasure. Releasing you gently, he sits back on his heels to rub with his fingers. “I could probably make you come like this, though.”

Reaching underneath your body, you unhook your bra. Seokjin stares in awe at your chest, bared before him. “Probably,” you agree. “But wouldn’t it be more fun to come inside me?”

Seokjin’s teeth grit, the words going straight to his cock. Already, it pulses against the tight fit of his jeans – when he feels how wet you are, Seokjin cannot stop imagining himself inside you. Grabbing your wrist, he brings your hand to his crotch.

You inhale when you feel how hard he is. “You’re so… big,” you murmur. “Will you even fit?’

Seokjin smirks, bending until his lips cover yours. “Not yet,” he agrees, spreading your legs with one hand. Stroking your center, he wets himself with your arousal. “That’s why I gotta stretch you out first. Get you ready for this dick.”

“O-h,” you gasp, mouth a perfect o as Seokjin’s finger pushes inside.

It is a tight stretch. Seokjin feels a bit light-headed, imagining something so tight and wet wrapped around him. Withdrawing, he pushes a finger inside you again. Rolling your hips, you force Seokjin deeper and he clicks his tongue, hand grabbing your waist.

“You don’t get to be in control,” he instructs, finger sliding back out. Adding another one, he slowly fucks you again. “You just have to lie there and take it.”

“Good,” you breathe, two of his fingers inside you. “Finally. I’ve been wanting you to yank my panties down and fuck me for weeks now.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches – shaking his head, he is certain he must have misheard. “What?”

A smile curls your lips. “You heard me,” you say sweetly, pussy squelching as Seokjin’s fingers slide in and out. “You’re so hot when you’re mad. Why do you think I teased you so much? Wanted your dick in my mouth to shut me up.”

Heat blazes through Seokjin’s veins. He has never been this turned on in his life – hearing such sinful things from your angelic lips. Sitting back on his heels, Seokjin frantically undoes his jeans.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he mutters, pushing them past his ass.

Yanking out his cock, Seokjin wraps a hand around his girth. He rubs himself roughly, ignoring the pre-cum dripping from his reddened tip. Already, he is steeling himself to not come inside you. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch him touching himself, lips parted in awe. Seokjin stares back, realizing you are as tuned on by him as he is by you.

Your gaze darts to his face. “Condom?” you ask, voice unsteady. “I don’t think I’ll last long once you’re inside me.”

Nodding, Seokjin grabs one from his drawer. Ripping open the packet, he rolls this on. Lowering an arm to the bed, Seokjin positions his cock at your core. As badly as he wants to be inside you, there is something so tantalizing about teasing. Spreading your legs, Seokjin rubs his cock to your clit and watches you twitch in response.

“Seokjin,” you groan, arms sliding around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Need you to fuck me so good,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Cock at your entrance, Seokjin slowly pushes inside. “Like that?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, breath hitching slightly. “Like that.”

“There?” Seokjin pushes in a bit more, moaning when your walls flutter around him.

You are squeezing him so fucking tight, Seokjin wonders how much more you can take. He is aware of the fact he is big. It would not be the first time a girl could not take him; would not be the first time he gave up and ate the girl out until she came.

“No!” Eyes flying open, you grab Seokjin’s wrist when he starts to withdraw. Lips parted, you stare at him in a daze. “Please keep going,” you beg. “Don’t wanna stop.”

Seokjin arches a brow. “You sure? Sure it feels good?”

“Good?” You stare at him with a fucked-out expression. “Oh my god.” Wrapping both legs around his waist, you push Seokjin in deeper. “You’re stretching me so good, baby. Can’t wait until you’re pounding this pussy.”

“Fuck,” Seokjin hisses, gaze darkening. “I think I somehow got harder.”

“I know,” you laugh, somewhat dreamily. “Felt your cock twitch inside me. So fucking hot.”

Seokjin continues to ease inside you, inch by inch until your eyes start to water. Biting down on your lip, you urge him on and before long, Seokjin bottoms out. He stops there, panting at the feeling of being so deep inside you. Glancing down, Seokjin sees your pussy split by his cock and cannot contain himself any longer. He slowly pulls out.

“What…” Grasping for his ass, you panic a bit. “Seokjin, don’t –”

Grabbing your knee, he slams back inside you. The two of you groan at the same time. Him, because he has never felt anything as tight and wet as your cunt and you because his dick is so large, your body is trembling.

“God.” You fall back on the bed, chest bouncing. “I fucking knew you were big. There was no other way you could be so annoying.”

Seokjin withdraws, reliving the sweet sensation of thrusting his cock in your tight pussy. You are so warm and so wet – now that you have been stretched, you mold easily to him.

“Fuck,” you gasp, lifting your hips to his.

Seokjin toys with you. Slowly sliding in and out, he brings his thumb to your clit and starts rubbing. “You thought I was annoying, huh?” he breathes, lips hot in your ear.

Nodding, your hands fist in the sheets. “Still do.”

Chuckling, Seokjin captures your lobe with his teeth. His hips roll against you, pressing you into the mattress. “Mm. Know what I think?”

“What?”

“You talk too much. Flip over.”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“Thought you wanted me to shut you up?” Seokjin presses a sweet kiss to your mouth. “Now, flip over, so I can fuck you senseless.”

Withdrawing, he ignores every inch of him which screams to stay put. It is worth it though, when you finally flip onto your stomach and stick your ass in the air.

Inhaling, Seokjin runs a hand up your drenched pussy. Your lips are swollen, messy with slick from him eating you out. Lifting himself onto his knees, Seokjin grabs his dick and pushes against your center. Slapping your clit a few times, he hisses when he feels you tremble beneath him. Hands soft on your hips, he slides into your cunt.

“Ah!” you gasp, head thrown back from the motion.

Wrapping your hair around his wrist, Seokjin thrusts into you again. He can feel every inch of your cunt, feel the tight squeeze of your walls on his cock. God, you are driving him crazy. Thrusting harder, Seokjin cannot separate the sensations before him.

Your ass pushing back on him, the way your moans fall from your lips. The tight wetness of your heat, his cock disappearing in and out. Leaning down, Seokjin slides an arm around your ribcage and pulls you against him.

He continues to fuck you like that, cock entering your body at a punishing speed. You feel so good pressed against him, nipples hard as they peek through his palms. Seokjin’s lips find your neck, sucking a hickey into your skin.

“Fuck,” you groan, walls tightening around him. Your bodies bang together, his cock fucking you open in a way which barely seems decent. “Fuck – Seokjin – yes! Oh my god, yes.’

“Yeah?” His grip tightens around you. “You about to come on my dick, baby?”

“Yes!” you gasp. He is basically holding you up at this point, fucking you senseless. “Oh – oh! I thought… you – mmph – wanted! Me – fuck! Quiet!”

Chuckling, Seokjin slides a hand between your legs. Finding your clit, he begins to rub with his fingers. “Changed my mind,” he grunts. “Wanna hear you scream my name so loud, you wake all my neighbors.”

“S-Seokjin!”

Your legs start to shake, trembling with your impending orgasm and Seokjin is not doing much better. The only thing holding him back is the intense desire to feel you come wrapped around him.

“C’mon,” he groans, angling his hips even deeper. “Wanna feel this tight, little pussy come on my cock. Can you do that, baby? Can you?”

“Yes,” you gasp and then you are coming undone.

Seokjin groans, biting your shoulder when your pussy clamps down. Your orgasm is so intense, Seokjin is surprised he can keep you against him. Pushed over the edge, Seokjin shudders when he lets go and releases into the condom. It goes on for so long, his cock aching as you take every last bit of him.

Slowly, his hand falls and strokes down your side. Lips brushing your neck, Seokjin exhales and gently withdraws. Everything is over-sensitive, each inch of his body buzzing with satisfaction. Tying the condom into a knot, Seokjin tosses this in the garbage and sees you roll out of bed.

His stomach twists. “Where are you going?” he blurts, wincing at how needy he sounds.

It is only – you look so fucking beautiful. Hair messy and lips swollen, traces of arousal lingering on the inside of your thighs. You smile at him, as if sensing his nervousness.

“Where’s your bathroom?” you ask, sheepish.

Seokjin exhales, relief coursing through him. He points to the left. “Over there,” he says, collapsing on top of the sheets. His dick is limp, soft in his lap, but looking at you, Seokjin is already thinking about more. “Want me to show you?”

“That’s alright,” you laugh, turning around. “I think I can make it to the closet alone.”

Grinning, Seokjin falls back again. “Come back soon.”

“Okay.”

Glancing at him over your shoulder, you sneak another peek before disappearing.

Seokjin stares at his ceiling for a moment before he remembers his roommate. Wincing, he reaches down to fish his phone from his jeans. Unsurprisingly, there are several missed texts from Yoongi.

Yoongi: k lol [11:01 PM]

Yoongi doesn’t matter won’t be sleeping anyways [11:01 PM]

Yoongi: too busy eating dessert ; ) [11:01 PM]

Groaning, Seokjin plugs his phone into his charger. He guesses this means Yoongi found someone else to hook up with. Rolling over in bed, Seokjin starts when you open the door.

“Hey.” You smile, almost embarrassed. Walking towards him, you bend to scoop your underwear from the ground.

“Whoa!” Seokjin blurts, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into the bed before you can get dressed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Putting on clothes,” you laugh, curling into his side. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Mhm.” Seokjin’s nose nuzzles your hair. He is not sure why, but something about this feels right. Having your limbs entwined in his, your hand resting soft on his chest. He feels warm, satisfied by the thought of being near you.

Sleepily, you smile. “I’m not allowed to get dressed tonight, is that it?”

“Nope,” he agrees, heart soaring the longer he looks at you. “Something that good needs repeating.”

Laughing a little, you curl tighter around him. “Does that mean you want to repeat it?” you ask, uncertainty to your voice.

Sliding two fingers under your chin, Seokjin tilts your head up. “Yeah,” he says, quiet. “I can’t think of anything I want more, to be honest.”

“I – same.”

Laying your head on his chest, you are quiet for a moment as Seokjin basks in the silence. Then, he exhales and adds, “I mean, aside from trouncing your sales targets, of course. I always want to do that.”

You snort, shoving his side. Seokjin pulls you in closer, grinning widely. It is a lie, of course – right now, there is nothing he wants more than to be with you.

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