#in the AU where they never break up they obviously DO have that conversation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jisungsdaydreamer · 10 months

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Love Playlist #3: Make It Right (Lee Know)

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

"It hurts to love you."

Pairing: Lee Know x Fem!reader Genre: college au, angst, exes to lovers Warnings: swearing, messy break-up, mc has a fear of the dark, mild haunted house/Halloween descriptions Word Count: 18.3k

*Written for @skzwritingcafe's July/August event: Summertime Confessions ☀️

Special thanks to @baekhyyun & @simpforyongbokk for beta-reading!! 💘

“I love you.”

You roll your eyes and shove Minho away, trying to suppress the giggles that threaten to spill out. “Stop that. We need to concentrate, or we’ll never find an apartment.”

“I’m definitely concentrating.” Minho grins mischievously. “On you.”

Laughing at his antics, you shake your head, shutting your computer for a brief intermission to tend to Minho’s insatiable appetite for your attention. Your boyfriend never fails to make you smile, no matter what.

“I love you too, you menace.”

Minho wakes up with a start. He groggily glances over at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. Nearly 3 a.m. Slinging his legs over the side of the couch, Minho just sits in that position for a good twenty minutes, marinating in the pitiful mixture of his sweat and tears.

The night before, he’d attempted to drown away his sorrows at some bar he stumbled upon while aimlessly wandering the city streets. It hadn’t worked, obviously, because his wallet wasn’t bottomless, and the pain was too great. But in true character, Minho had tried anyway, until his savior found him slumped over the counter and led him back to a safe place to sober up.

“Stay here as long as you need to,” Chan had said, tucking Minho’s drowsy form into a bundle of blankets on the couch, like he was a little kid.

Minho had tried to resist, mumbling complaints towards his friend’s retreating back, but fell into a troubled slumber before Chan even reached his own bedroom. Now he’s wide awake and unwilling to be so, praying he can just fall back asleep and forget about everything that had transpired in the previous twenty-four hours. But even sleep can’t save him from the memories of what you both once were: happy.

It’s not like he didn’t notice the rift growing between you two in the past few weeks. You didn’t have as much time for each other anymore, reducing your interactions to quick dinners and text messages. But you both have been together for nearly three years, and Minho had assumed that it was just the stress of senior year taking a toll on you both, nothing more. You both had been browsing apartments together just one month ago, finally planning to take the next big step in your relationship. He loves you more than anything in the world, and he so believed that you felt the same about him.

So when you sat him down yesterday at your favorite café, Morningstar Coffee House, and told him that you had doubts about your future together, he was shocked. Too fearful of what you were going to say next, Minho decided to take an abrupt exit out of the conversation, rushing out of the door by using class as an excuse. And now, he will be forced to confront a brutal reality, wishing he could have just gotten this over with yesterday.

A small chime alerts Minho to a new text message, and before he even reaches over to the coffee table to pick up his phone, he knows it’s you.

bobaluvrr: we need to finish talking catservant98: do we really need to? bobaluvrr: morningstar at 8. i have class, pls don’t be late.

With an exasperated groan, Minho stands up, tossing his phone onto the couch. At the very least, he could use the coffee.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little extreme?” Soyeon scrapes the bottom of the pint of ice cream in her hands, frowning when her spoon doesn’t recover as much as she’d like.

“Maybe,” Sunoo answers for you from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, lying on his stomach while scrolling through his cellphone. Soyeon chucks a pillow at him, making him yelp and lift his hands up in defeat.

“This is for the best, Soyeon,” you reply firmly, stabbing your spoon into your own pint of rocky road and digging out a generous chunk. As you lick the spoon, you note that you barely notice the creamy goodness that always succeeds in cheering you up. Not today.

Sunoo sits up and sets his phone aside. “Literally last month, you said you wanted to marry Minho as soon as you graduated.”

You swallow harshly, remembering the exact moment Sunoo is referencing. It’s true that you wanted to marry your boyfriend— no, you still want to marry him, even now. But you meant what you said; breaking up with Minho is necessary to prevent any more heartache. You’ve been feeling this indescribable longing seeping into your heart for weeks now, silently pressing through all of your warning bells. It was a whisper in the wind beneath your lofty wings, telling you that one day, Minho was going to leave you. The last few days had been the final straw, forcing you to grasp your courage and do what had to be done.

“I know.” You hold your tears back. “But the situation has obviously changed.”

Soyeon takes your hand in her own, softly rubbing your palm with her thumb to comfort you, while Sunoo just rolls his eyes. “I still blame that bitch Minju. It’s her fault you’re feeling like this, if anyone’s.”

At the mention of Minju, your expression hardens. After all, you don’t exactly have warm regards for a backstabber like her, especially when she had pretended to be your friend just to get close to Minho. When you found out about her ulterior motive, it made the betrayal hurt ten times worse.

You had befriended Minju nearing the end of the previous year, after she sat next to you at lunch when you were alone in the dining hall. All along your short-lived friendship, you had noticed that she would only ask you questions about Minho or your relationship with him, but you brushed it off as an attempt to just get along with your boyfriend. You had no idea that she wanted to do more than that.

At the beginning of the next semester, Minho mentioned that he had one class with Minju. Ever the optimist, you were pleasantly surprised, thinking that Minju could become friends with Minho as well. After all, it always took Minho forever to really bond with new people, and this would make everything easier. But the little things you kept overlooking built upon each other, forming a whole dam of distrust.

First, there were all of the times you hung out with both Minju and Minho. While Minho always engaged in conversation with the both of you, if not more with you, Minju would actively ignore you just to talk to Minho. Once, you three visited an arcade together, and there was a game that involved picking teams. Minju immediately declared that she would partner up with Minho, so you had no option but to team with a stranger. But maybe she just wanted to get to know him.

And then you ran into Heeseung, one of Minju’s old classmates. Heeseung had no malicious intentions; he used to have photography class with Minju before she switched out, and needed Minju’s number to ask her for the pen he had lent her. It looked like Minju had changed her course schedule to share a class with Minho. But maybe that was just a coincidence.

The final piece that made you put together Minju’s puzzle was when Minho was dropping you after a date one night. He had kissed you goodbye, and you went inside, wondering if you should invite Minju over to watch some movies. You called Minju and asked her if she wanted to come over, but she claimed that she was very sick and couldn’t even leave her house, down with a high fever in her bed. Feeling sorry for your friend, you decided to whip up a quick batch of soup for Minju and walk over to her loft. However, you saw two people standing right outside the building. Upon closer look, you realized it was Minju and Minho, talking about something you couldn’t hear. But the sight itself was enough— Minju looked perfectly healthy and fresh. You could give the benefit of doubt to your boyfriend, but Minju had obviously lied to you. You ran away before either of them spotted you.

You shake your head, knowing in your heart that even someone like Minju couldn’t really end one of the most important relationships in your life. “It’s not just her. I’m tired of watching every other couple on campus, wishing Minho and I were like that. Everyone calls us perfect, but really, we’re not. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one who cares. I’m just tired of everything, Sunoo.”

And it’s true. You’ve had enough of wondering about whether you love him too much, if you were being naive about everything. You have always been a very bubbly, social person, wearing your heart on your sleeve. You know that Minho is more of an introvert, and that it’s hard for him to express himself to others. However, you believed that with time, he would open up, at least to you. You found it as easy to confide your fears within Minho as it was to laugh when he tickled you. But communicating with Minho about his own feelings remained a difficulty. He still seems like such a mystery to you, and even if he wasn’t entertaining Minju’s whole plot, you feel like he isn’t as interested in you as you are in him. You hadn’t even bothered telling Minho the truth about Minju, because in the end, you doubt Minju would have troubled you so much if your relationship really was so unbreakable.

Sunoo’s face softens, as he gets up to envelope you in one of his hugs. “I’m sorry if I came off too strong. I just want the best for you.”

Soyeon joins your little huddle, wrapping her arms around the both of you. “You are our best friend, after all. We can’t have our favorite girl being sad.”

A tiny flicker of hope ignites in your stomach. Whatever happens, you know you’ll have Soyeon and Sunoo by your side. You tell yourself over and over again that you don’t need anyone else but them, until you start to believe it.

It hurts Minho’s heart to see that you look more beautiful than ever as you step into Morningstar, even with your downturned lips and the reddened sheen of your sleepless eyes. He busies himself with the menu as you approach the table he’s sitting at, as if he wasn’t just watching you a moment earlier.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Your words feel oddly formal, especially taking into account your usual greeting for Minho was an excited hug and an avalanche of kisses.

Minho shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant and not as scared as he really is. “Yeah, of course.”

You scoot your chair closer to the table, clearing your throat. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Unable to help himself, Minho rolls his eyes. “How do you think I slept, Y/N?”

You immediately flush, realizing how obvious the answer must be. “I was just—”

“Checking on me,” Minho interrupts you, sounding more wounded than angry. “Right after you tell me that you think maybe we shouldn’t move-in together and that you aren’t feeling the same about us.”

You reach across the table to take Minho’s hands in yours. He can’t bring himself to wrench them free from your hold. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“You did.”

“That wasn’t my intention. I just…” You trail off, gazing out the window. The campus is alive with the buzz of students waking up and going on about their days. It’s a gorgeous day for October, with bright sunshine and a cloudless sky— Minho hates it.

He looks away, not wanting to showcase how truly vulnerable he feels right now. “Why? Why this all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?”

You start. “No!”

“Are you still upset about yesterday? I know everything is stressful right now, but I promise—”

You take a deep breath. “I can no longer trust you. I don't know if I’ll always be the only one. But it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Of course you’re my only one, what are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, the desperation creeping in. “No. I promise I’ll try. I’ll be better. Whatever it is, we’ll get through this together.”

You slam your palms down on the table, making it shake. It shocks both you and Minho into a moment of charged silence. “We’ll only grow to hate each other at this rate. I need to end things with you now.”

“Y/N, please. I- I don’t want to break-up.”

You flash Minho a broken smile. “I don’t want it either. But I need to do this, for both our sakes.”

You stand up from your chair, and Minho finally breaks. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he fell into a ravine while hiking and broke his arm. Minho, who didn’t cry even when he was cut from the line-up for his dream internship in New York City. Minho, who never cries, sits in front of you now, the tears streaming down his cheeks and dripping onto his sweatshirt.

“Don’t go, please.” He makes one last attempt at getting you to stay, grabbing onto the arm of your jacket.

You gently shake him free, taking your purse. You’re crying now too. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Min.”

Minho lets his arm fall limply to his side as he hopelessly watches you leave as quickly as you came. He always hated saying goodbye after every time you went out, but the thought of being able to see you the next day helped a little bit. Now, there wasn’t even that.

“One… two… three.”

Minho grunts in effort, sweat slowly dripping down his neck at the arduous pace of each repetition.

“Keep going, Minho. You’re almost there,” Changbin says, leaning over Minho and supporting him on the bench press.

Minho barely hears him, flexing his biceps up and down, exhausted, yet determined to finish a set. He’s done nothing at all for the past few days, strangled with the inevitable grief of being broken up with. Minho sullenly welcomed trudging back and forth to classes. He went to bed early and slept in for as long as possible, and barely ate anything during the meals Chan forced him to have.

However, Chan finally became fed up with Minho’s mopiness, employing Changbin to drag him out to the gym and make him work out his feelings. And so, as he struggles under the backbreaking weight of the barbell, he yearns to feel a sense of accomplishment about something— anything.

“Ten! You’re done.” Changbin gently places a hand on Minho’s arm, willing him to stop, but Minho keeps going without toning down his pace.

Minho feels the excruciating ache burning in his muscles, the slow agony of pain rippling through him. Is this how you feel? Is this how much it hurts to love him? If so, he wants to live it over and over again, atoning for the reason you left him. He blames himself for letting you go, of course, but mostly for making you feel like you had to leave in the first place. He should have been a better man for you.

“Minho, stop!” Changbin lifts up the weight in his own hands, racking it and staring down accusingly at his charge. “Are you crazy? You could have hurt yourself.”

“You lift more than that, and you’re fine. Give me that.” Minho reaches for the barbell once more, but Changbin places it on an even higher hook, forcing Minho to get off the bench.

“I’ve been doing this for years. You started after your girlfriend dumped you, four days ago.”

Minho rolls his eyes, picking up his towel and dabbing at his dampened skin. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“You were already thinking about her anyway.” Changbin pats Minho’s shoulder, grabbing his bottle of green juice and walking over to the rowing machine to start his own workout.

Without further protest, Minho retreats to the locker rooms, wondering if he’s being that obvious. Minho gazes into the clouded mirror, inspecting himself for any signs of sadness, but all he receives is an eyeful of his general look, a guarded expression that reserves smiles only for those who deserve it. Weird. Maybe Changbin is just telepathic.

Minho shoves his belongings into his gym bag and heads out of the gym, back to nowhere else but Chan’s apartment, his temporary home until he finds a better place to stay. After all, he thought you both would be moving in together, but plans change.

As Minho makes his way down the sidewalk that leads to the university off-campus housing complex, someone throws a soccer ball into his path. Great.

“Hey, can you pass that over here?”

Clenching his jaw in annoyance, Minho kicks at the ball as hard as he can, not caring about where it lands. He ignores the person’s confused shouts and keeps walking until he reaches his destination, not acknowledging any of the strangers he passed by. What does it matter, anyway?

“Gym go well?” Chan looks up from the cutting board, setting down his knife and wiping his hands on a dishrag.

Minho sighs, neatly fixing his bag next to his current post, the sofa. “It was fine. I’ll go clean up and be right back.”

“Hurry! Dinner’s almost ready,” Chan calls as Minho heads inside the bathroom, locking the door and cranking on the shower.

Minho feels his body relax as he steps under the steady stream of water, but his mind remains tense. He’d gone to the gym with Changbin today because he thought he’d be able to get some peace of mind and forget about everything, but evidently, that hadn’t worked. All he can think about is you, you, you. He’ll deny it to his friends for as long as he can, but he isn’t sure how long he can keep lying to himself.

As he finishes, Minho steps out of the steamy bathroom and into the bedroom, drying off and quickly changing into his clothes. He walks into the dining area, where Chan has set up two bowls and is ladling pasta into each of them. When he was younger, Minho’s mother used to tell them that a good meal could ease a troubled heart. For her sake and Chan’s, he decides to eat well today, just for living.

Enveloped in a comfortable silence, Minho and Chan dig in, enjoying the spicy, cheesy penne that serves as an instant comfort food.

“Thanks, Chan,” Minho says, looking up from his bowl.

Chan swallows his bite and pauses, placing down his fork. “For what?”

Minho shrugs awkwardly, trying to find the right words. By now, he knows he’s no good at speaking his heart. “For being there for me. For feeding me. Everything, I guess.”

“And for making Changbin haul your ass to the gym.” Chan grins at Minho, nothing but warmth in his kind eyes. “What are friends for, brother?”

Even though he feels kind of crappy, Minho smiles. “Yeah, man.”

Chan reaches over and smacks Minho’s back, laughing the sentiment off. But deep inside, Minho knows that Chan understands him. Whatever happens, his brother will be by his side. He tells that to himself over and over again, through dinner and the TV show that Chan turns on, until he starts to believe it.

The next morning, Minho wakes up after finally getting a good night’s sleep. The much needed rest spurs him on to message you, something he’s been putting off for a while now.

catservant98: did you wake up? catservant98: how are you doing? catservant98: ??

You don’t reply to any of his texts. Minho knows that you’re not much of a morning person, but you would never miss class, so you have to be up. Every Thursday and Friday, both of you have Writing Seminar together, a course that is mandatory for every senior student at the university you both attend. When he first received his schedule, he had been elated that he shared a class with his girlfriend. Well now you are his ex-girlfriend, and he doesn’t know that being in the same room and unable to speak with you is a great option.

Nevertheless, Minho tucks his phone into his pocket, opening the door to the lecture hall. The moment he enters, his eyes find yours. You’re sitting in your favorite spot in the middle of the fifth row, but the seat next to you that Minho usually takes is already occupied by some other girl who’s busy reading a book. You didn’t bother saving him a seat, for the very first time.

You tear your eyes away from Minho’s piercing gaze, looking at the grassy lawn beyond the window behind you, leaving Minho to find a new seat. He sets his backpack down in the very back row, where no one else is, and sits alone, a sad new reality setting in. Thankfully, the professor enters and starts talking about some upcoming project, leaving Minho ample leeway to observe you.

Your head is tilted down and you're focused on the open notebook in front of you. Although he can’t see your hand properly, he knows it’s moving as you sketch a little doodle onto the paper. It’s a habit that he always found enormously endearing, and as you tuck your hair behind your ear, Minho feels another pang in his chest. He will never be able to brush back your hair for you, ever again.

The moment class is over, Minho quits pretending he’s actually paying attention and hurries over to you before you can leave. You’re midway through stuffing your books bag in your bag when you notice Minho hovering over you. With a resigned sigh, you look up at him expectantly.

“I- I just wanted to check on you,” Minho says quietly, looking down at his hands like he’s a kid again, guilty of stealing a candy instead of impinging on your time. “And see how you’re doing.”

“I’ve been better.” You look away and stand up, gesturing towards the door. “I should go. Soyeon’s probably waiting.”

“Okay then.” Minho steps aside, letting you pass. You both had a lot of mutual friends; surely every interaction between you both will not be this awkward, right?

Before you leave, however, you turn and look at him. “Let’s try to be civil and move on, okay? We’ll still be seeing each other a lot, so.”

Minho just stares at you, for a moment, before remembering himself. “Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”

You curtly nod and walk out the door. Minho isn’t so sure that moving on is what he wants. Of course he wants to get along with you, because having you in his life and not being romantically involved is better than not being involved with you at all. But he wishes the world— time, you, and even himself— would understand that moving on meant this loss in his life. Shaking his head, Minho heads out of the classroom and towards a hopefully better day.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bad idea?” You worriedly scan the increasing mass of partygoers. Usually, you love a good party; spending time with friends and making new ones is one of your favorite things to do. Tonight, however, you can’t help the bad feeling building inside of you.

Sunoo loops your arm through yours, leading the way for you through the swanky flat, searching for a place to sit. “No, it isn’t. You deserve to have some fun.”

“What if I see Minho?” You ask him, but you already know the answer. Of course Minho is coming to Jihyo’s birthday party; unfortunately, both of you were in the same large friend group, an aspect of your relationship that you used to cherish. Now, not so much.

He looks over at you, a challenge in his eyes. “And so what if you do? You told him you wanted to be civil. So be civil.”

“Right.”

You both find a place by the food tables, where boxes of pizza have already been opened to entice guests and bottles of beer chill in the cooler. After congratulating Jihyo and helping yourself to a few slices, you sit down on the couch next to Sunoo, trying to enjoy your dinner. After boba, pizza is your most favorite food on the whole planet, but even that can’t seem to soothe your nerves. You wish Soyeon were here too, but she’s stuck studying for an exam.

Noticing your restlessness, Sunoo whistles to a few people mingling nearby. “Hey, who wants to play Truth or Dare!”

Although outdated, Truth or Dare is a certified party hit for stressed college students like you all, especially if there’s alcohol involved. You’re just thankful for the distraction. Everyone quickly huddles around, buzzing in anticipation of either a comedy show or secrets being revealed.

“I’ll go first.” Chan says, stepping forward. If he’s here, so must be Minho. “Truth.”

Sunoo rubs his hands together in thought before piping up. “What’s your beef with your Student Council co-president?”

Chan immediately tenses, his cheeks turning red. “Shit. I’ll drink on that.”

Everyone whoops with laughter and cheers as Chan downs his beer, setting the cup down with a sour expression on his face due to the bitterness of the drink. He must really hate his co-president. The game continues, before you’re the only person playing who hasn’t gone yet. Unfortunately, your questioner is Mark Lee, a junior that’s notorious for his nosiness. You brace yourself for whatever invasive question he’ll come up with, but you aren’t as quite prepared as you think.

“Why did you and Y/N break up?”

“Huh?” You follow Mark’s gaze to see him looking at Minho, who joined the game without you realizing. The question was meant for him, not you.

Minho says nothing, giving Mark the opportunity to keep talking. “I mean, weren’t you guys the golden couple of campus or something?”

Everyone quiets down, zeroing in on you and Minho for all of the wrong reasons. Minho’s eyes dart over to where you sit, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You feel your skin prickle and your body heat up, the stress clouding your senses once more.

“This is stupid. Game’s over,” Minho declares while getting up, and everyone disperses, not willing to argue with him.

You stare down at your lap as Sunoo places an arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea Mark would ask that. What an asshole.”

“I’m fine.” You stand up, brushing off your skirt. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sunoo offers.

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll come back.”

After getting some water, you wind through the impromptu dance floor that has now taken over the living space, everyone jamming to the raging music that thumps through the loud bass speakers that Jihyo had installed into her flat. You dodge a couple grinding up against each other and a pair of best friends swinging to the beat. Before you head back to Sunoo, you’re about to find temporary reprieve out on the balcony, but like a cruel universal joke, you see exactly what you fear most.

Minho leans against the railing, the evening breeze ruffling the chestnut hair that frames his handsome face. And next to him stands Minju, twirling her hair around her fingers while listening to what Minho is murmuring to her. Yours and Minju’s eyes meet, and she gives you the faintest hint of a satisfied smirk. Your heart drops and your feet want to give out right then and there, but you would rather die than fall apart in front of both of them. You turn on your heel and blindly march to wherever will rid you of the sight of the person you love the most speaking to the person you hate the most.

That destination turns out to be the kitchen, as you march in and huff out loud as your body hits the kitchen island. There’s no one else there except for one other person with his upper body hidden by the refrigerator, obviously raiding it. At the sound of someone else entering, he shuts the fridge door and looks over at you. Taking in his faded pink hair and beat-up converse sneakers, you vaguely recognize him from somewhere.

“I was just looking for some carrot juice, that’s all.” The guy shoots you a sheepish smile. “I don’t do booze past 9 p.m.”

“Carrot juice? Don’t tell me you’re a fitness freak.”

He raises his hands in faux surrender. “Guilty. But outside of the gym, I’m Kang Taehyun. Or Terry, if we’re acquainted, and hopefully you and I will be by the end of the night. So call me Terry.”

You’re intrigued by this carrot-loving stranger. “I’m—”

“Y/N, I know. We have Writing Seminar together.” Terry smiles as the recognition hits you.

You slap your palm against your forehead, wondering how you could have missed him. “I’m so sorry. I guess I was always too distracted in that class.”

He waves your apology off with a twist of his wrist. “No worries. Besides, you’re a lot more memorable than me.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

In the brief silence that follows, you gaze up at the pattern of the tiling on the countertops, toying with the hem of your skirt. Once again, your thoughts flit over to Minho, wondering if he’s still talking to Minju. Terry notices you spacing out and speaks up. “Hey, are you okay?”

You look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Suddenly, everything feels like too much, and you’re overwhelmed with your own emotions. You feel yourself tear up, and you’re immediately mortified for breaking down in front of someone you just met.

Unfazed, Terry crosses over to you in three quick strides and gently touches your arm, concerned. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

You swipe at your eyes, trying to collect yourself. “No, it’s not you. I broke up with my boyfriend recently. And it’s been… bad. God, this is embarrassing.”

Terry dips his head in understanding. “I noticed you weren’t sitting next to him as usual in class earlier today. Minho— that's him, right?”

You let out a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Well…” Terry trails off, and you fear you’ve ruined the mood with your depressive recollection, but he smiles at you. “I’ll tell you something embarrassing about me. I have a fear of mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

A giggle escapes your mouth at the absurdity of his confession. “What?”

Terry nods solemnly. “Yes. Technically, I have a fear of visiting the dentist, but mint choco is close enough to the taste of toothpaste to give me the chills.”

You grin at Terry, the down atmosphere slowly fading away. “What do you like, then?”

“Water slides. Pleasure reading. And caramel popcorn with extra caramel.” Terry flexes his bicep. “Even a fitness freak needs his sugar fix.”

You roll your eyes in good humor. “You’re really something, aren’t you, Kang Taehyun?”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.” Terry runs his hand through his bubblegum hair, carelessly mussing it up. You find the messiness of his bangs absolutely adorable.

“It is.” You tap your nails against your cup, trying to think of something to say next. Generally, you have no difficulty in keeping a conversation going, but Terry seems to be content with that role in this one.

“Are you an Apple or Android kind of person?” Terry inquires.

You take a sip of your water, raising your eyebrow at him. “Where did that come from?”

“I was trying to think of a good way to ask you for your number.” Terry shrugs, that playful smile that you’ve now become familiar with coming back.

You return it. “You just did.”

Both of you exchange cell phones and type in each other’s contact information. When finished, Terry slides your phone back into your palm, and you don’t miss the light touch of his fingers against your own.

“I have to go find my friend now, Terry. But I’m glad I met you. Don’t forget to spam me with more weird facts about yourself.”

Terry laughs. “I won’t. Like I said, Y/N, you’re not easily forgettable.”

You hide your smile and leave the kitchen, lost in your own world, even as you run straight into Sunoo, who asks you what took you so long. When you finally get back to the warmth of your own room after the party, you sit down to get some homework done before bed. You notice your favorite keychain, a little cat charm, hanging off your ID card lanyard that’s strewn across your desk. Minho gifted it to you last year, stating that you needed something to remind you of him when he wasn’t there. After a moment’s hesitation, you unclip the charm from the lanyard and tuck it away inside your desk. You don’t need the reminder right now.

terrypotter: hey, good morning!! this is terry from yday btw bobaluvrr: hii! bobaluvrr: omg ur user <3 i love harry potter too! terrypotter: this friendship was meant to be.

You throw off your covers, hopping out of bed. Last night was proof that things could start out horrible and end well. You meant what you said to Terry; you’re happy you were able to meet someone like him. Even though you both only hung out for a few minutes, talking to him felt relaxing and uncomplicated, less of a puzzle and more like a game, unlike how it felt with Minho. You were tired of always guessing Minho’s thoughts, and so Terry’s habit of speaking his mind feels incredibly refreshing.

terrypotter: here’s a thought- coffee @ morningstar? terrypotter: they make a mean breakfast bagel too, if ur up for it

You frown down at your phone, the lighthearted feeling fading into uncertainty. You are glad that Terry named this new acquaintance as a friendship, but still, he’s a boy— and a good looking one at that, too. You aren’t sure if getting coffee entails something potentially romantic down the lane, and if it does, it feels wrong, especially so soon after Minho. You definitely haven’t moved on, yet. After all, you once believed that Minho would be the man you would marry one day, and a tiny part of you still dreams of what could be.

bobaluvrr: i can’t :( promised my roommates breakfast terrypotter: aw that’s too bad

After a moment of thought, however, you text him again.

bobaluvrr: but i’ll save you a seat in class today! terrypotter: see u then :)

Strangely buzzed, you make your bed and get ready for the day, trying not to think of the fact that Minho is also in Writing Seminar with you and Terry. You don’t want him to give him the wrong idea, but then again, you both weren’t together anymore, so what does it matter?

After showering and getting dressed, you stand in the kitchen so that the excuse you gave Terry won’t be a lie, scrambling a few eggs in the frying pan that Minho bought you last year. As the designated chef in your relationship, Minho used to cook for you all the time, whenever you came over to the apartment he shared with Chan and Jisung. Whenever he visited you, however, he complained that there weren’t enough proper cooking supplies for him to create a “proper culinary experience” for you, so he insisted on buying you some.

When you nearly fainted, looking at the receipts for everything he bought you, he promised that you could make it up to him by bringing everything with you when you moved in with him. That’s how he very smoothly asked you to move in with him, and you accepted by attacking him with kisses. You both planned to find an apartment as soon as possible, since Jisung wanted to move-in with his best friend, and Chan was looking for his own place. The reminiscing smile on your face fades away when you remember that everyone’s plans came to fruition except for yours and Minho’s.

You don’t know if it’s the universe looping Minho into your life again and again, or if your treacherous heart just misses him so much that you can’t help but subconsciously cling to every last remnant you have of him. The sensible side of you knows it’s the latter scenario.

“I smell food.” Sunoo ambles out of his room, looking like a lovable yet scruffy teddy bear.

He tries to sneak a piece of fried egg from the pan, but you quickly push his hands away, wrinkling your nose. “Go brush your teeth first. I’m going to throw up.”

Sunoo rolls his eyes sleepily, but obeys, before Soyeon also comes out of her bedroom. Unlike Sunoo, however, she’s all dressed and ready for business, clad in her uniform of baggy jeans and a badass leather jacket that you adore. Soyeon pulls out three glasses and starts juicing a couple oranges to complete your meal, as you start plating the food.

“Thank you, my angel,” Soyeon blows you a kiss as you set the eggs and some slices of buttered toast on the table. You wink back at her as you both take your seats and Sunoo comes out to join you, still wearing his pajamas.

“And you, lazy ass? Wake up earlier so you can help out more. You never do anything.” Soyeon smacks Sunoo’s arm, hard, eliciting a cry out of him.

“Hey! I take on the emotional support role in this house,” Sunoo replies, aggressively biting into his toast.

“This is an apartment.”

Your two roommates trade their usual insults back and forth as you tune them out, picking at your own plate. Maybe it had been a bad idea, asking Terry to sit next to you. And it wasn’t even about how you could already envision your ex-boyfriend’s beautiful eyes full of betrayal, but more of how you’re coming off to Terry. What if he got the wrong idea, that you both were heading into something more than a friendship?

When you’ve escaped Sunoo and Soyeon’s bickering, you plug in your earbuds and walk to the lecture hall. The sound of your morning mix fills your ears as you enter your own world. While you cherish the people in your life more than anything, you treasure the times when you can slow down and just appreciate the fact that you’re alive and healthy. Gratitude isn’t something you feel a lot, especially taking into account recent happenings, but maybe you’ll start now. A new friend is always something to be thankful for—

You hear someone calling out and immediately pull out your headphones to see Terry next to you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Terry falls into a synchronized step with you. “Did I interrupt any deep contemplation? The look on your face was pretty intense.”

You shake your head, accepting the coffee that Terry hands to you. “Thank you. And no, you didn’t. It’s nice to see you again, Terry.”

Terry smiles, sipping from his own cup. “Likewise. Ready for class?”

You’re about to naturally give him an affirmative answer, before you halt, remembering yet another moment with Minho.

“Who the hell is he?” Minho glowers threateningly at the guy next to you, pulling the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows. The man quickly rushes out of the bar and into the rain, without even bothering to open the umbrella in his hands.

You sigh loudly while Minho sits down on the stool the man was just perched on. “Was that necessary, Min? Poor guy just wanted to ask me about the book I’m reading.”

“That’s the pretense that all guys put up when they’re trying to hit on a girl.” Minho slides his arm around your shoulders, and despite your mild annoyance, you melt into his touch. He smells like a mix of cologne, rain, and fresh cotton sheets.

You look up at Minho through your eyelashes. “Is that what you did when you asked me out?”

Minho smiles lovingly at you. “I didn’t have to. You were down bad for me already.”

You shove him away in mock offense. “You were the down bad one! I remember your whole cheesy speech.”

“I don’t recall anything like that.” The smirk on Minho’s face fades in favor of a deep blush.

Laughing, you press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips, and he quickly reciprocates. The truth is, you both were impossibly down bad for each other. And to be even more honest, you enjoyed it when Minho got like this; the feeling of being Lee Minho’s girl will never not excite you, especially when he was the one keen on enforcing it.

You sigh to yourself. While that was a pleasant memory without the context, you aren’t so sure it’ll be cute this time, when Minho reacts to you and Terry.

Terry holds the door open to the lecture hall, letting you go in first before shutting the door behind him. Most of the class is already assembled there, setting up their desks before the professor starts. You see that Minho’s also sitting, perched in the back again, but he seems busy rifling through his bag, looking for something. As you take your own seat, you don’t know if you feel relief at Minho not saying anything, or disappointment that he didn’t notice you at all.

Throughout the duration of class, you and Terry giggle together over the professor’s infamous random rants, but your mind keeps flitting over to Minho. You can feel his gaze on you and Terry, but when you turn, you see him immersed in his notes like he wasn’t looking at you in the first place, and you end up feeling stupid. Fearful of what Minho— or really, you— might do, as soon as class ends, you grab Terry’s wrist and practically pull him out of the door, ready to get out of there. Terry doesn’t question it, understanding the rationale for your actions. You appreciate that about him.

To make it up to Terry, you take him out to lunch, choosing a restaurant downtown. You love the views of the riverfront there, as well as their renowned spicy food. You block out the memory of all of the times you and Minho walked over here, hand in hand. You are entitled to lunch at your favorite restaurant, you remind yourself. Once you’re seated, the waiter comes over to your table.

“Chef’s special soup, please. Level-three spice,” you tell the waiter.

The waiter writes down your orders and walks away, leaving Terry to look at you with an amused expression. “Level-three? The food here is already spicy.”

You cross your arms. “I have a very high spice tolerance.”

“Alright.”

In no time at all, your waiter is back, setting down the food in front of you both. Terry immediately digs in, shoveling liberal spoonfuls of his mild fried rice into his mouth, leaving you to stare at your soup. You can practically smell the red pepper in the steam rising out of the bowl.

“Here’s my last warning before destruction,” Terry says, squeezing a lemon onto his rice. “Try some rice.”

You sit up, trying to look self-assured. “Nonsense. I can do this.”

Of course, you wish you hadn’t bragged so much, barely a few seconds after your first sip of the spicy broth. Your eyes start to tear up involuntarily, and Terry fills a glass of water from the iced pitcher and hands it over to you. You accept it, clumsily tipping the cool water into your mouth, as Terry gives you a knowing smile.

“Aren’t you overdoing it?”

The spoon in your hands nearly falls onto the floor in your shock at Terry’s words. “What did you just say?”

Terry gives you an odd look. “Um, I said, ‘aren’t you overdoing it?’”

You take a deep breath, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. But you know that they’re not completely due to the soup. “Wow.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Terry hands you a napkin, worry written on his face. He signals for the waiter to refill the water pitcher.

You smile ruefully. “Yeah, I will be.”

“I can handle it, Minho.” You give him a glare, placing the napkin on your lap and scooting closer to the table. It’s your first date with Minho, and you want to impress him so bad.

Minho nudges your leg with his own, and you try not to look flustered. “It’s okay if you want to order something else.”

You stubbornly dig your spoon into the bowl, gathering a large helping of broth and noodles onto it. “You like the soup here. So I want to eat it too.”

He just laughs, watching intently as the clear signs of regret manifest on your face. “Told you so.”

"What are you talking about?” You narrow your eyes, unwilling to admit defeat, even though you really, really want to. You drink the soup in careful spoonfuls, pretending it’s too hot, but you struggle to speak even in between tiny sips. “This… is.. so… delicious.”

Minho is now hysterical, losing his mind laughing at the look on your face when you bite straight into a whole jalapeno. “Aren’t you overdoing it?”

“Minho, you’re so mean!” You can’t bear it any longer, the tears gushing down your cheeks while you also laugh in both pain and genuine happiness at being here with Minho, at making him laugh.

“Alright, alright.” Minho quickly goes and gets a large glass of chilled apple juice from the bar, handing it to you.

When you’re finally calmed down, you wipe your mouth with your napkin and set the spoon down, metaphorically waving a white flag. You skip straight to dessert, opting to soothe your taste buds with cold ice cream, all while watching Minho in awe as he easily finishes his own bowl of soup. After paying for dinner, Minho takes you to a secluded section of the rocky beach bordering the river that runs straight through the city. You both walk in a comfortable silence, still at that point where your hands slightly touch as you walk, unsure of just holding each other like you so want them to.

You look over at Minho, suddenly self-conscious. At this point, you see no point in faking anything; he’s seen you literally sob over a bowl of soup. “About the soup… I promise I’m not a braggy show-off. Honestly, I just wanted to impress you. Guess I did the opposite, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Minho shakes his head, all laughter from before gone. “I’ve never met someone who ate a bowl of soup here just because I like it. Not even Chan would try it, and he’s my best friend.”

You blush, illuminated by the combination of the moonlight and the glittering city surrounding. “Thank you.”

Minho stops walking, turning around to face you. “I know I told you this when I asked you to go out with me, but I suck at using my words, so I’m sorry.”

You copy his movement so you’re looking him directly in the eye. “I understand you, words or not.”

Minho looks down at the rocky ground, secretly fighting his own insecurities. “I’m trying, but I… I admit I’m not great at this.”

You try not to show how utterly charmed you are by his bashfulness. “To be honest, neither am I. You’re actually the first person I’ve ever gone out with. Nobody’s really been into me before.”

“Seriously?” Minho looks shocked.

You now wonder if divulging that information in him was wise. Definitely not. “Yeah.”

Minho kicks a pebble into the river, watching it sink into the water. “Idiots.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

He scoffs, looking back at you. “I don’t know what kind of idiots you were hanging around before. How could no one be into you?”

You shrug, embarrassed. Your heart feels heavy, thinking of the things people used to say to you, thinking they were being funny but not realizing how much mere words were hurting you. “I’m kind of undateable, I guess. People tend to gravitate towards Soyeon. They say I’m more of the comedic relief. I don’t blame them, though. She’s perfect.”

Minho gives you an unreadable expression. “You have no idea.”

“Of what?”

He crosses that miniscule space between you both, answering you in a different way than you expect. His lips are full and sweet, and he tastes like your coffee ice cream that he stole a few bites from. The surprise you harbor quickly melts away when you shut your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as he circles his around your waist. If it took this long to find the right person, then so be it. And you don’t know if you can say that this— your first kiss ever— is like the movies; it feels even better.

“I may not be good with words, but I can say this: you are perfect.”

“You look kind of stupid,” Hyunjin says, cackling at Minho’s struggle to look over the top of the box in his hands while coordinating his movements.

Minho gives Hyunjin a sharp look in response. “And you look ready to go into the air fryer.”

Hyunjin immediately tosses his phone aside and scurries over to where Minho is, taking the box out of his hands and transporting it into Minho’s designated bedroom with ease, looking over his shoulder fearfully as he goes. Minho smiles to himself, satisfied.

He follows Hyunjin into the room, finding the latter boy dramatically smoothing out the bedsheets and straightening the pillows. Hyunjin side-eyes Minho’s entrance, earning him a smack on the backside and a great reason to get out of the room, leaving Minho in peace.

Minho quickly unpacks, neatly folding his clothes and stacking them in the closet, before organizing the rest of his belongings around the room. When he finishes, he falls back onto his new bed, staring up at the ceiling fan and observing it whir. Out of everything that’s happened, he knows he should be thankful; although Hyunjin is the designated comedian of their friend group— along with Jisung, of course— he values his privacy incredibly. So when Hyunjin offered to rent out a room in his apartment to Minho, he couldn’t believe his luck. Then again, he wishes he wasn’t in this position to begin with.

Earlier today, Chan insisted on going out to catch the football game that their university hosted. Minho had agreed, with nothing better to do— besides, he noticed that Chan was also having a rough start to his day, after being locked in the campus library all night with his co-president that he always conflicted with. Chan had stayed quiet for the entire time, staring out the window on the ride to the home game, but at least he had a happy ending. By the end of the game, things had changed for Chan, and for the better: he’d amended things with his co-president, and of everything that could have happened, they even emerged from the stadium as a couple. For Minho, however, things had been quite different.

Namely, there’s a new replacement for Minho. He saw you walk into class with Kang Taehyun yesterday, and he’d been so anxious to not let you see his reaction that he immediately busied himself with his backpack. The entire time, however, he was watching you both whisper to each other during class. He darkly observed Taehyun scribble something onto the corner of your notebook, and it had made you laugh. That was what Minho used to do all the time. By the end of class, Minho considered confronting you right then and there, without caring about anyone else, but you ran out of class with Taehyun before he could even move.

And to make things even worse, he saw you and Taehyun together at the game. Minho had to resist the urge to march down to your section and slap the flirtatious smile off of Taehyun’s face. But more than anything, he wanted to ask you if it was true. Did you really already start to move on with a new man? Is Minho really that replaceable to you?

“Hey, what are you up to?” Hyunjin cautiously sticks his head into the room, snapping Minho out of his reverie.

“Nothing much. What’s up?”

Hyunjin steps into the room, his silky shirt and pressed trousers a stark contrast to Minho’s soft blue t-shirt and gym shorts. “Wanna go to the convenience store with me? I ran out of snacks.”

“You and your snacks,” Minho teases, chasing after Hyunjin when he sticks his tongue in retaliation.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin successfully drags Minho into the convenience store, disappearing into the junk food aisles to get his fix and leaving Minho to wander around the store. Following the twisting row of frozen foodstuffs, Minho turns and crashes straight into you.

“Minho?” Your eyes widen.

Minho clears your throat, trying not to gaze at you like you’re a returned long-lost love. You are indeed lost to him, but he had class with you merely the day before. He needs to get a grip on himself. “You dropped this.”

He kneels down, picking up the tub of ice cream, and hands it to you after inspecting the flavor label. “Strawberry? You hate strawberry.”

You take it back hastily. “Yeah. You always loved it, though.”

That doesn’t satisfy Minho’s rampant irritation. “You wouldn’t even touch strawberry ice cream with a ten-foot pole before. What changed?”

“I just wanted to try something new,” you say, with what Minho observes as guilt.

Before Minho can respond, the person he wants to see the least rounds the corner and interrupts you both.

“I promise, the strawberry ice cream here is amazing and— oh.” Taehyun walks up to where you are, standing slightly between you and Minho, before he looks down at you, ignoring Minho. “Am I interrupting something? I can go away.”

You shake your head, flaring the rage in Minho. “It’s fine. You can stay.”

“So you’ll eat strawberry ice cream with him, but not me.” Minho rolls his eyes, the humiliation inside him swelling like a balloon.

“Hey man, it’s nothing like that. I know she doesn’t like strawberry ice cream that much, but I practically threatened her to try it. J'adore strawberries,” Taehyun says in a joking tone, but Minho doesn’t miss the protective glint in his eye.

Minho has never been a violent person, but he balls his fists. The nerve. “Who the fuck even are you? You don’t know anything about—”

“What is your problem, Minho?” You cut in angrily. “If you’re mad at me, then be mad at me. Don’t take your frustrations out on Terry.”

What you said is perfectly sensible, Minho knows that. He doesn’t have anything against Taehyun at all; he doesn’t even know the guy. But all logic is thrown out of the window when it comes to you.

“Terry?” Minho scoffs at the nickname. “You know what, I am mad at you. Because seriously? Kang Taehyun? He isn’t even your type.”

Before Taehyun can say anything else, you respond to Minho’s jab, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “Right, because you were so perfect for me.”

The words hit him like a sledgehammer, and Minho starts in surprise— you’ve never talked to him like that before, ever. And neither has he. The regret is evident on your face as you shake your head, frustrated, like that came out wrong.

“I got the snacks!” Hyunjin announces suddenly, waltzing into the aisle, before he notices you standing there with Taehyun. “What’s going on here?”

You and Taehyun stay quiet, adding onto Minho’s misery. He wants you to say something, anything. He doesn’t even want an apology; he knows he absolutely deserved that insult. Still, Minho can’t help that horrible feeling rising inside of him.

“Let’s just go.” Minho turns on his heel and walks out of the store, before waiting to finish the conversation, Hyunjin following closely behind. He doesn’t bother looking back.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything to Minho, falling silent in the rapidly approaching night. At times like this, Minho prefers to be left alone. But he isn’t, really. Not with the truth leaning over his shoulder, like an angelic superego. He tries not to think of it, however, or the fact that his heart is falling apart so violently in his chest. Although you and Minho are not together anymore, you’ve both now fulfilled a milestone: hurt each other beyond repair.

The convenience store encounter with Minho left you feeling guiltier than ever, even more than when you actually broke up with him. You should have been more understanding towards Minho; after suddenly ending things, you appear out with Terry. Even though you don’t see Terry like that, you are well aware of how it can look to Minho. After all, you’d react similarly if you found out that Minho and Minju are dating. But you hadn’t, because you know that Minho would never do that to you.

You sigh, shutting the door to your room and collapsing onto your bed. After the whole incident, the air between you and Terry had been pretty awkward. While you still don’t know much about Terry, including his intentions, the topic of a romance had never been broached until Minho did it for you. He’d walked you back to your apartment, before wishing you a goodnight.

Your phone sounds with a text, and you pick it up, curling into your pillow. It’s Terry.

terrypotter: just checking up on you terrypotter: how are you doing? bobaluvrr: better, thanks for asking terrypotter: glad to hear terrypotter: and i also want to say that i’m sorry for any role i might have played in what happened today bobaluvrr: you’re good, terry. it wasn’t about you. i’m sorry for bringing you in

There is truth to this. No matter how much it feels like third parties have an avenue in furthering the split between you and Minho, the problem has always been internal. It’s truly between you both, hence, you’re not a couple anymore.

bobaluvrr: let’s change the subject? terrypotter: ofc terrypotter: wanna play would you rather?

You laugh in spite of yourself. It feels good to laugh, to distract yourself, but Minho stays like a stubborn mirage in your mind. Nevertheless—

bobaluvrr: game on. terrypotter: beaches or mountains? bobaluvrr: beaches terrypotter: sweet or salty? bobaluvrr: are u kidding? my username? boba?? terrypotter: LOL sweet then bobaluvrr: yes. terrypotter: spring or autumn? bobaluvrr: spring, duh terrypotter: and lastly, dogs or cats? bobaluvrr: DOGS terrypotter: u are 100% correct terrypotter: all of our answers are the exact same LMFAO

You think back to your first date with Minho. Before the whole soup fiasco, the atmosphere had been so awkward while waiting for the soup to arrive. This was months of tension and pining between you both, and now that the apex had arrived, neither of you were sure of what to say. Without thinking, Minho broke the silence by randomly asking you if you liked dogs or cats better. You were automatically enchanted by the bashful look on his face. From there on, for every single question he asked you, both of you had the exact opposite answers. For the longest time, your differences had felt charming, before they weren’t.

Terry, on the other hand, shares so many similarities with you, beyond the strawberry ice cream betrayal. Both of you are outgoing, have a similar sense of humor, and like to be unabashedly yourselves. If a romance did ever blossom between you and Terry, if your friendship lasts your current heartbreak, you could be happy with him, maybe. You would never be insecure, worrying about what’s going on in his mind, because he would talk to you directly. You appreciate that so much about him. But whenever you look into his eyes, or whenever your hand accidentally brushes his, you don’t feel that electricity that had always coursed through you when you were with Minho. You’ve been searching for it everywhere since, but that spark just isn’t there; Taehyun’s just not Minho. Your heart calls out to Minho, no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t, and you can’t deny it any longer.

If there’s one thing that Minho has learned in the duration of his college years, it’s that work has no tolerance for those special ailments of the heart. His professors don’t give a crap about the fact that his girlfriend dumped him, or that his girlfriend has now apparently moved on with some pink-haired stud. No matter how much he wants to slam his laptop screen down and fall asleep to the rhythm of his shattered heart, he knows he can’t. His term paper will not write itself, and it matters, especially since he’ll be graduating this year.

“What will you do when we graduate?” You set down your iPad, flexing your fingers.

“A job at a good company. And then one day, my own business.” That familiar, dreamy look mists Minho’s eyes.

You smile at him. “My handsome CEO.”

Minho tapped your nose with his finger, following it with a soft kiss there. “You are so cute.”

“I know.” You peek down at his notebook that’s full of graphs and lengthy strings of numbers. “This looks complicated.”

“Welcome to the life of a business and economics double major,” Minho laughs. “But you’re literally a pre-med student. I’m not going to complain when you have to memorize human anatomy and random proteins.”

“Don’t remind me.” You dramatically shudder, giggling at Minho. “But I don’t care, as long as one day, you’re CEO Lee, and I’m Dr. Lee.”

Your words shock both you and Minho, invoking a moment of charged silence. You both have never talked about getting married before. But before you can backtrack, a slow smile spreads across Minho’s face. “Dr. Lee… has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

You turn a bright red, but lean into Minho, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “Definitely.”

Minho clears his throat and shakes yet another memory of you away, trying to concentrate on the email open in front of him. Just minutes ago, he’d received notice that he’d been chosen for a position at Google, following graduation. Fucking Google. Every business major would kill for a job at Google. And not only that, but his employer noted in the message that they usually don’t even extend offers this early in the year, but made an exception for him because they wanted him so much.

For a moment, he forgot all about the angst of the previous day, giddily jumping off his bed in a rare display of emotion, even if nobody else was around. And then he reached for his phone, opening up your contact and preparing to type in a text to you; for months, you knew Minho was anxious about his application to Google. But then he remembers himself; he’s now someone in your past.

Minho swallows roughly, staring at the blank space where his response accepting the offer should be. A moment later, he decides he’ll respond to the email later. But he doesn’t even have any time to chide himself before he notices someone standing in front of him.

“Minju?”

She looks down at him, either oblivious to his confusion or choosing to ignore it. “Hey. Am I interrupting something?”

Minho nods, waiting for Minju to sit down and get settled into her chair, trying not to let his bewilderment show.

At Jihyo’s party, he had needed some air after that stupid game of Truth or Dare, and even worse, your reaction to the question asked of him. Minho had escaped to the balcony, hoping for a moment alone, when Minju approached him. When she launched into a conversation with him about school, Minho realized that you probably never told Minju about the break-up. So he excused himself as politely as he could, explaining that you and him both broke up. He never really considered Minju as his own friend, and did not expect Minju to pursue a relationship with him any further.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Minho.” Minju exhales, looking him directly in the eye. “I like you.”

Minho sits up immediately, shocked. “What did you just say?”

Minju purses her lips. “I like you, and I always have. Go out with me.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, the confusion fading into anger. “You’re Y/N’s friend. How could you do this to her? How can you even look at yourself?”

“You’re not together anymore, it doesn’t matter,” Minju says, her voice wavering.

He scoffs, packing up his belongings and shoving them carelessly into his bag. “Don’t talk to me again.”

Minju grabs the sleeve of Minho’s jacket as he turns to leave, desperation in her eyes. “Be with me instead. I’ll make you forget her.”

Minho shakes her free, giving her a look of both pity and disgust. “I still love her, and I always will.”

And with that, Minho leaves without looking back, walking slowly and deliberately in thought. Was this what you meant when you told him that you weren’t sure if you were the only one? Was Minju the reason for the love of his life leaving him? A strange mix of both fury and hope washes over Minho as he exits the library and breaks into a run, barely eight out of his eight-thousand word essay written.

After you broke up with Minho, you forgot one very crucial detail: you didn’t unlink him from your Google calendar. One of the few things you both share in common is your organization, and when you were together, you both loved to plan things together and very ceremoniously add them to your shared online calendar. It became a game, trying to guess where the other was at random times, judging by their schedule. More often than not, the calendar proved to be a very useful tool in pinpointing each other’s locations. It’s why the brief surprise of seeing Minho standing outside your apartment door in the middle of the day on a weekday fades away quickly. You don’t have any classes scheduled today.

“Y/N,” he pants, leaning against the doorframe.

“Minho. What are you doing here?” You cross your arms, resisting the urge to rush forward and hug him in all of his puffer coat glory. You used to make fun of him for that coat, all the time.

“I needed to see you. Minju told me,” Minho lowers his eyes, as if he’s nervous. “I need you to know that there was nothing going on with her. You have always been my only one. I promise. No one else. I miss you.”

Your heart wrenches in desire and nostalgia at the sincerity of his eyes. Of course you knew that he never cheated on you; this is Minho. But that’s not the reason why you have to remind yourself, once more, that you aren’t right for each other. Not in the long run. “I miss you too. And I know you didn’t cheat on me.”

Minho’s eyes fill with what you recognize as a mix of despair and tears, because after all, you’ve felt it in you too, before. “Then why? Why end it?”

“I feel like you don’t love me as much as I love you.”

The wheels turning inside of Minho’s mind and searching for possible reasons, immediately crash to a stop. “What?”

You shrug, drawing back your hands to tuck them into your lap, a habit that Minho has observed whenever you are nervous. “Remember when we were at that picnic with all of your friends? And Jisung and his girlfriend were also there? We were playing a question game.”

Minho nods slowly, still confused. “I do.”

“Felix had asked all the guys to think of why they love their girlfriends.” You look down at your hands, embarrassed. “Changbin had a whole list of reasons. But when it was your turn to speak, you had no answer.”

The recollection comes back to Minho like a tsunami. He hadn’t really ever thought much of that day; he always had trouble talking about personal things in front of other people, and he thought you already knew why he loved you. He didn’t know his inability to share something like that could hurt you so much, especially when he can write a whole book of reasons for why he loves you. Your smile. Your endless generosity. Your never ending patience for Minho’s antics. The way you always see the best in people, and how you light up the whole room when you walk in.

“Baby,” Minho starts, before realizing that he doesn’t have the right to call you that anymore. Reluctantly, he continues, using your name instead. “Y/N, I have trouble talking in front of other people. I love you so much, and if you know that, it’s all that really matters. A stupid game doesn’t change that.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “But see, Minho, I don’t know. I don’t know how you’re feeling half the time. Felix’s question was just the icing on the cake. I’m exhausted from wondering. Wondering if you love me. Wondering if I really know you. Just wondering all the time. I shouldn’t feel that way.”

I’ll try harder to be more open. I’ll work on myself. I just— please believe me.”

“I do believe that you’ll try, Min. It’s who you are. But I can’t force you to be someone you’re not, and you can’t force me to want different things. We’ll only end up hurting each other more.” Your eyes fill with tears. “It hurts to love you.”

Minho flinches at your words, and he sees the sorrow in your eyes, but you say nothing to soothe the burn. Nevertheless, he keeps trying, as if he didn’t notice the determination written in your gaze as well. “I know I was senseless. But please— I’m begging you. Don’t do this. Don’t leave, not again.”

You look away from him, a single tear sliding down your cheek, as Minho tries to hold back his own. The whole scene feels disturbingly like a few days ago, when you broke up with him in Morningstar. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

“I tried to understand you. I did. But don’t you think that being senseless about everything that was going on also means that you were that indifferent towards me?” You scrub at your face to keep from crying even more.

Minho cringes, hearing the truth in your words. Once upon a time, he cherished the silence you both could share comfortably, working independently in the happy company of each other. Now the quiet hangs in the air like smog, a heavy uneasiness that he never imagined around you. “I really thought I could change. I swear.”

You nod, a brisk movement that doesn’t match the tears glistening on your face. “You should go now. Please.”

And you turn your head, as if you can’t bear to watch him any longer. Minho turns, his head hanging down like he’s a sinner. A small, ugly voice in Minho whispers that he truly is one, for hurting you and letting you go. It implores him to fall at your feet and stay, insisting, breaking at you until you crumble into his arms, taking him back. But the part of him that carries the resolve is stronger by a thread, the one that fuels his despondent retreat from your heart.

Later, holed away in the place he would now have to call his home, Minho is left alone in the bed that he’d once believed to belong to you as much as it did to him. The nights cuddled together and the mornings after, when you woke up to each other in a halo of sunlight, all fade away into the prickling solitude that now constitutes his new reality. There is nothing left for him to do now, except looking out at the sky through his tiny bedroom window, wondering if you were both gazing at the same moon in the separate worlds you both now are in. He’d left you one last message before promising himself that he’d never text you again, and thankfully, you never responded. He didn’t think you would.

catservant98: I’ll always love you.

“The festival will end by the time we get there.” Jeongin lets out an exaggerated sigh, making a show of checking the watch on his wrist.

“Shut up. I need to lock this place up properly or my parents will kill me,” Seungmin mutters grumpily, as he carefully turns the key in the lock to Morningstar, taking his time. “It’s not my fault that I’m the owner’s son.”

Jeongin, donned in a Harley Quinn outfit, bounces on his toes in uncontained anticipation. “Hurry up!”

Seungmin tugs at the lock for good measure, before turning and swatting at Jeongin, who yelps and jumps out of the way. His detective hat, which he wore as a part of his Sherlock Holmes costume, falls off, and Jeongin grabs it. Usually, Minho would have laughed at the way Seungmin has started to chase Jeongin around, but he just glumly stares down at his sneakers, having no energy to join in.

“You okay?” Chan notices Minho’s downcast gaze, slinging his arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

Minho shrugs with one shoulder, out of options. “I’m fine. I have nothing else to do anyway.”

Today is Halloween, your favorite holiday of the entire year. It seems especially cruel to him, to have to confront this day without you by his side. It was never much of his scene, and he’d always been reluctant to dress up, but one look from your pleading eyes and he’d fold, decking himself in a cheesy costume and feeding you all the candy you desired. The night would always end in you both binging horror movies together because you were too scared to watch alone. The memory of Minho getting distracted, just watching you hide behind your hands the entire time, used to bring a fond smile to his face. Today, it makes him want to smash something into bits.

“Let me know if you want to leave the festival early, though. Changbin can drive you home later.” Chan juts his chin out at Jeongin and Seungmin, who are now smacking at each other, while Changbin responsibly tries to pull them apart. “I have to make sure those two idiots don’t get in trouble.”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry about me.” Minho gives Chan a half-hearted smile. Chan looks hesitant, like he wants to keep talking with him, but he nods, focusing on the moonlit path in front of them.

The roar of the annual Halloween festival that the university throws resonates throughout campus, drawing stressed students ready to throw aside their homework and party. But Minho is in anything but a celebratory mood; the last few weeks have been absolute agony. Ever since things fell apart. He just wants to go home and curl up into a ball under his covers, ready for this stupid night to be over. He didn’t even bother with a costume, choosing to stuff himself into his hoodie and make himself seem as small as possible. But he’s too tired to tell anyone, so he opts to stay quiet and gloomy on his own.

The gravel of the walkway crunches under their little group’s shoes, barely heard over the deafening sound of “Thriller” blasting on the DJ’s stereo. The entire main lawn of campus has been converted into a party space, crammed with different tents full of attractions, games, and souvenirs for students to indulge themselves in. There’s even a converted frat house that’s now a haunted house, as well as tables of snacks and lightsticks for people to wave around. Jeongin, Seungmin, and Changbin immediately zero in on the haunted house, running off to get tickets for it, leaving Minho and Chan alone. Two boys swaying together at the edge of the dance floor catch Minho’s eyes. He looks closer and notices that they both are dressed in an obvious couples costume, and it makes him think of you again— last year, he was Chucky and you were Tiffany Valentine, and you both won “Best Look” together, at the festival’s costume contest. Minho feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh my god, she’s stunning.” Chan’s eyes are wide, and Minho follows his gaze to a very pretty girl dressed in a white gown that seemed to float above her knees, two trailing pieces of fabric sticking out daintily from the back of her dress. An angel.

She approaches him with a shy smile on her face, as she not-so-subtly checks out Chan’s own dracula costume. “You look good.”

“I— you’re pretty,” Chan stutters, and they both blush.

Seriously?

“Thanks, Chris.”

Chan smiles lovingly at her. “You don’t have to call me Chris, you know. My friends call me Chan.”

“Chan,” the girl tests with a beam, before quirking her brow at him. “So I’m just a friend now? Not your girlfriend?”

“You drive me crazy, you know that?”

And then they both start kissing right then and there, which doesn’t seem to faze anyone else around them, considering the fact that they are surrounded by other couples. Minho, however, has to look away, his stomach turning. Is this how everyone else felt when he used to kiss you, whenever and wherever he wanted?

“Hey guys, I’m going to go find a place to sit,” Minho calls out to Chan, who barely notices in the midst of his make-out session. “You know what? Never mind.”

Cringing to himself, Minho makes his way over to the food tables, dodging at least five witches, seven ghouls, and six zombies on his way. He collapses onto the bench of an empty table with a groan, letting his head rest on the table before lifting it up like he’s been stung; the thump of the DJ’s bass seems to vibrate through the wooden tabletop, worsening his already horrible headache. What was he thinking, coming here?

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Minho looks up, ready to lash out at the intruder, before he notices it’s Hyunjin. He is so out of it that he hadn’t even recognized his voice. “I thought you were staying home and painting tonight?”

“Thought about it, but I kept getting distracted by all of the noise outside, and thought I’d take a snack break.” Hyunjin plops down on the seat across from him, setting a plate loaded with brownies, potato chips, and cookies cut into pumpkin shapes. He’s dressed in plaid pajama pants and a baggy sweatshirt to fight the October chill, the only one besides Minho who hasn’t dressed up. “Want some?”

Minho shakes his head, watching Hyunjin dig in. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hyunjin nods, his cheeks stuffed with food. “Sure.”

“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Minho fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, feeling his face heat up. He was never one for sentiments like this, but even though he and Hyunjin have more of a seemingly lighthearted relationship, they’re more alike than they think in how deeply they care about each other. “I mean, you’ve never even had a serious relationship before, but you’re like the most hopeless romantic I’ve ever met. How does that even work?”

Hyunjin looks surprised, at first, but quickly smooths it away in understanding. “I do get lonely sometimes. But I just occupy myself with the things I love. Painting, reading. Just because I’m a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I can’t be realistic. And I have been in a serious relationship before, remember?”

Minho frowns. “Oh. Right. What happened?”

He notices Hyunjin’s eyes flicker with something— grief, maybe. But the emotion is quickly replaced with indifference. Hyunjin shrugs. “Let’s just say it didn’t work out. I love a good romance novel, but is it real life? No. I don’t do relationships. Not anymore.”

Minho stays quiet, unknowing of what to say. He never thought of himself as a huge relationship person either, but then again, that was before he met you. You changed his perspective on a lot of things, and most of the time, he thought it was for the better. Now, he feels empty, alone. He wants to match costumes with someone, and go bobbing for apples together. And he wants that someone to be you, only you.

Hyunjin must have noticed Minho’s melancholic contemplation, because he gives him a sympathetic look. “Is this about Y/N?”

Minho’s chest tightens at the mention of your name. “I don’t know, honestly. I just want to go home.”

“Same. I just came for the free food.” Hyunjin chews on a brownie, before swallowing. “Let’s go after I finish eating.”

Minho hums in response, pulling his hood over his head, as the rest of their group comes to join the table. Chan and his girlfriend, unsurprisingly, are discussing plans about some upcoming event for the Student Council. Jeongin and Seungmin, on the other hand, are immersed in a gleeful recollection about the haunted house with Changbin, who is dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. Everyone seems to have a role except him.

“That was actually wild,” Jeongin says. “If Jisung was with us, he would have fainted when he saw the chainsaw guy!”

Seungmin shudders, while Changbin glances around their table. “Hey, where is Jisung, anyway? And Felix?”

Chan breaks away from his own conversation as his girlfriend pauses to eat her slice of cake. “He’s handing out candy to kids at home. Meanwhile, Felix is Trick-or-Treating.”

Jeongin snickers. “Trick-or-Treating? What is he, ten?”

Seungmin grins evilly at Changbin. “At least he doesn’t have the height of a ten year old.”

Changbin rolls his eyes, but chooses to ignore Seungmin and Jeongin’s high-five at his expense, instead turning to Hyunjin. “Can I have a cookie? There are no more left.”

Hyunjin gives him a judgemental glare, but passes a cookie over anyway. “Where’s your girlfriend, by the way?”

Changbin stuffs half of the entire cookie into his mouth, licking the frosting on his lip. “She has work. But we’re going to meet up later tonight and watch movies. Wanna come?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “I’m good. Minho and I are headed home soon anyway. Right, Minho?”

But Minho isn’t paying attention. His gaze is locked on none other than you and Taehyun, dressed in Hogwarts robes— you in Gryffindor, and Taehyun in Slytherin. He’s seen multiple people tonight sporting similar getups, and so both of you wearing Hogwarts robes doesn’t exactly entail a couples costume, but it makes his heart clench either way. Both of you are standing near the apple bobbing station, laughing and talking animatedly together. It hurts to see you enjoying yourself, while Minho has to struggle to keep himself together, to keep from breaking down on the spot. It hurts that he’s not the one matching with you right now, the one to be making you laugh, holding you on one of your favorite days of the year.

He watches as you and Taehyun walk closer to the haunted house. Your smile has now faded into an unsure expression, skeptical and tinged with fear. Taehyun puts his arm around your shoulders, evidently trying to assure you, before he leads you inside the house. Minho immediately springs up from the bench, fists balled up at his sides. You love everything about Halloween, except for one thing. You hate being in the dark, and so you had always avoided the haunted houses at every Halloween festival or any other event that you and Minho went to. Obviously, Taehyun doesn’t have a clue about your boundaries, and as always, you’re too kind to point them out.

Ignoring Hyunjin’s confused protests, Minho stalks after you and Taehyun, even though he knows that he should sit right back down. He told himself that he’d stay away from you if you didn’t want him, but if he even gets the slight sense that you are afraid, he’ll throw all reason out the window. He won’t let you go inside, not without him.

“Excuse me— you can’t go in right now. The haunted house is at full capacity.” The ticket collector stops Minho even though he shows her the ticket that Jeongin had passed out to everyone before. “Just wait for a few minutes for someone to come out.”

But he can’t. Not if you’re already inside. Minho steps back for a moment, and the collector glances back down at her phone. Before the collector can react, he rushes past her, running inside. She calls after him angrily, but he barely hears her. All he can register is the racing beat of his heart, and the faint screams deeper inside, wondering if one of them could be you.

He whips past the ax-wielding maniacs and the corpse brides in tattered dresses, pushing past their horrible acting and all of the other props in his way to you. Minho feels his hoodie snagged against a cloud of fake cobwebs, and the fake blood on the walls is enough to make him gag, but he goes on. A desperate search in nearly every nook and corner yields nothing, and Minho curses the haphazard quality of the setup, nearly tripping over a loose wire. As he passes through a room decorated like a murderous hospital room, he hears a small whimper from behind the fake operating table.

His senses perk up and there you are, sitting down with your knees drawn to your chest. With how his eyes have now adjusted to the dark, he can faintly make out your crouched body and the shine of your flowing tears. Immediately, he gets onto his knees, and envelopes you with his arms, firmly pulling you against his chest.

“Y/N, it’s me,” he murmurs, the scent of your coconut shampoo blocking out the stench of ammonia.

“Terry and I got chased by one of the ghosts and then got separated,” you mumble as you cry, shivering in his arms as he begins to rock you slowly. “I’m so scared, Minho.”

Minho looks at the tears still leaking down the sides of your face, and has to restrain himself from the instinct to kiss them away. Instead, he puts a steady hand to your skin, gently wiping them away. In this moment, you aren’t broken up. He isn’t your ex-boyfriend, and you aren’t his ex-girlfriend. You are the girl he loves, and him the very soul that has so vehemently devoted himself to even at such a ripe age, an inspiration and a shame to the vengeful spirits that govern your favorite holiday.

“I’m here now. I’m not going to leave you.” Minho gazes down at you. “Are you still frightened?”

You shake your head no, wide eyes clinging to his comforting presence. Minho gives you a small smile, rubbing your jaw softly with his thumb, a movement that doesn’t feel as inherently romantic as it generally would be. “See? You’re not afraid of the dark. You’re just scared of being alone in it. And that goes away when you realize something. You’re never really alone.”

Both of you just gaze at each other in the dark for a few minutes, saying both nothing and yet everything to each other. He carefully rests his palm against your heart, gaging the beat until it slows down to its usual calm. Wordlessly, he helps you onto your feet, his arms still wrapped around you as you both navigate the maze of the haunted house. You don’t encounter any other of the actors, but at one point, you jump in Minho’s hold, spooked by the amplified horror sound when passing by a speaker. Steadily, you both make your way out together.

The first thing Minho sees as he steps out of the exit is the array of blinding lights that shine on his face, in addition to the glow of the raging bonfire that has now been set up for students to roast marshmallows. Then he catches that shock of pink hair in the small crowd gathered outside of the haunted house; Taehyun, distress written all over his features as he speaks to the security guards.

You and Minho, however, stay frozen on the spot, just staring at each other with a fresh uncertainty. Realizing himself, Minho lets go of you. Contrary to how you felt, Minho could always read you like a book. He practically memorized all of your expressions, able to tell how you were feeling in an instant. But the indecipherable look you give him is baffling, but before you can open your mouth and say something, Taehyun notices your arrival.

“Y/N!” Taehyun immediately rushes over, his breathing labored from sprinting the distance to you. “I’m so, so sorry; I lost you and tried to come back inside to find you, but they wouldn’t let me!”

Minho steps to the side awkwardly as Taehyun hugs you tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. Your tears are long gone, and you pat his back softly, giving him the comfort of your safety. “I’m alright, Terry. It’s all good.”

Taehyun pulls back to look at you, before turning to Minho, surprise and confusion on his features as if just registering Minho’s presence. You clear your throat, placing a hand on Taehyun’s arm. “Hey, could you give us a minute?”

“Sure. Of course,” Terry says, the stress on his face softening as he looks down at you. Minho recognizes it— it’s how he always imagined himself to look whenever he saw you.

You turn back to Minho as Terry walks away to a food stand, presumably to get you a warm drink. “Minho, I—”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Minho interrupts, unable to bear any more. He chokes back a sob, his eyes trained on your pained expression. “I need to go.”

“Minho, wait!” You grab his arm, and it places you both in the uncomfortable déjà vu of when everything ended.

He looks back at you, swallowing his dread and pushing away the angsty alert of his brain, the command to let everything go and just take you back, then and there. But he wouldn’t be the man you had always loved, then. Not if he takes advantage of you when you’re like this, vulnerable and exhausted. Not when there’s a perfectly good man standing at a distance, hesitantly holding a cup of hot chocolate for you. Not when he knows that he’s lost his chance of ever getting you back from the moment he gave up on you both. Minho realizes that he doesn’t have the right to call you his anymore, when you’ve finally found a man who prioritizes you over his pride and his insecurities— a man who will treat you right, and will never make you wonder if you’re his only one. All he’s ever wanted is for you to be happy. That has to be enough for him. It will be.

Minho leans down before you can protest, kissing you on your forehead softly. You stay silent, looking up at him with those wide, inquisitive eyes, the very ones he fell in love with. “Stay smiling, always.”

And with that, Minho finally walks away, willing himself not to cry as he tries not to think of his heart breaking.

You watch Minho, dazed, as he walks away for the second and last time. It feels worse, somehow, than when he left your apartment, weeks ago. Minho had spoken to you so gently, inside the haunted house, calming you down in spite of the fact that you had so cruelly broken up with him, and then he proceeded to wish you his best, before leaving. You didn’t miss that note of finality in his voice, the one that told you that he wasn’t going to go back on his word. He had let you go.

You barely notice Terry approaching you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

He hands you a cup of hot chocolate, as you stare at Minho’s retreating back before it finally disappears within the crowd of partygoers. “Everything’s fine. Thanks for this, Terry.”

Terry blinks at you, slightly unfocused. “Yeah of course. But… can I ask you something?”

You nod, sipping the hot chocolate. It’s so warm and sweet, and it feels wrong to be drinking it. It feels like you don’t deserve it.

He hesitates for a moment, before speaking up. “What happened in there? In the haunted house?”

You bite your lip, still distracted by the thought of Minho; Terry’s question doesn’t pull at you as much as it probably should. “He just found me and helped me back. That’s all.”

Terry looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and you don’t question it. The rest of the night is clouded by an awkward rut that has originated from nowhere at all, one that you never guessed you’d experience with Terry. He walks you back to your apartment early, and waits next to you as you fumble with your keys.

“Good night, Y/N,” he says softly, as you finally wrestle your door open.

“Thanks,” you whisper back, too drained of energy to make one of the usual jokes traded when you both say goodbye. He tips his head at you like he always does, albeit in a less jaunty way, and steps into the apartment elevator at the end of the hall, flashing you one last little wave before the doors close.

You turn back to your apartment, walking inside and locking the door behind you once again. This time, you don’t go straight to your bedroom and drop onto your bed, like you always do after a horrible day. Instead, you stalk over to the kitchen, which is illuminated by a single, flickering lightbulb. You tug open the freezer, fishing out a box from your emergency stash of ice cream, the one thing bound to be on stock at all times. When you went grocery shopping some time ago, you didn’t think that a crisis would hit so soon.

Cracking open the lid of the chocolate ice cream, you take your scooper and place a bowl on the counter. After a second thought, you take out your blender as well, and scrape the ice cream into there instead, throwing in some milk and peanut butter as well. Tonight is a milkshake kind of night, you think, the kind that necessitates butterscotch chips and whipped cream as well, you note, opening the cupboard to get said ingredients. When you finish blending, you pour your icy salvation into a large tumbler and collapse onto the living room couch. You turn on the television, blankly staring at the screen while barely registering the dialogue playing.

“That’s not a milkshake— that’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it.” You shoot Minho a pointed look as you chug down your shake, savoring the sound of Minho’s laughter even more than a hefty peanut butter and chocolate combo.

It isn’t until you taste saltiness instead of the sweet milkshake that you realize you’re crying.

callmeterry: can we meet? bobaluvrr: yes. see u @ morningstar

You stare into the bathroom mirror, checking your face one last time, inspecting it for bloodshot eyes and dry skin, the telltale signs of the tears that have now become a habit over the past few days. Ever since Halloween, things haven’t been the same since you and Terry. Although a fairly new friendship, you both spent a significant amount of time together after meeting at Jihyo’s birthday party. However, you haven’t seen each other at all outside of Writing Seminar nowadays— probably because during class, you’re too busy staring at Minho, who won’t even spare you a single glance. You’re determined to at least save your friendship with Terry, which is why you are so quick to agree to meet him.

“Catch you two later,” you call out to Sunoo and Soyeon, who both are slumped on the couch, watching One Piece over boxes of takeout butter chicken.

The journey to Morningstar doesn’t take long, especially since the vastly approaching night has gotten you nearly jogging, regardless of how safe your college campus is. Although it’s been nearly a month and a half, you still can’t get used to not having the security and comfort of your boyfriend. Serves you right, you think.

You enter through the glass doorway of Morningstar, the door chime ringing and announcing your entrance to Terry. He stands up from the table he’s sitting at, walking over to you with the genuine smile that you were fearful of not being able to see again. Terry looks heartbreakingly handsome, dressed in a long brown coat and wool scarf, an ode to the plaid shirt days and hot chocolate nights that you know you could have with him.

“Hi,” he says, pausing his gait when he’s a few feet away from you. Tentative, but still Terry. The bouquet of assorted flowers in his hands, however, isn’t.

You can literally feel your face fall, as you stare at the certainly expensive arranged red roses and lilies. “I—”

“Don’t.” Terry’s smile doesn’t fade, but the slight sheen of moisture to his eyes is new. “ I know. I’d rather not hear you say it. Please.”

You’re speechless as he hands you the flowers, the refreshingly floral scent wafting up and screaming at you to wake up. You had a feeling, you knew how Terry felt about you. But you didn’t think he’d act on those feelings so soon.

“You know, I’ve been in love with you since August. You walked into the very first day of class late, wearing this gorgeous pink dress— and God, I was so whipped. I even dyed my hair the same color.” Terry laughs lightly, but you can see the heaviness in his eyes, the same thing that you feel in your chest. “I didn’t approach you, though, because I saw the way you were looking at Minho.”

You shake your head, still in disbelief. “Terry…”

“And then you walked into the kitchen at that party; it felt like a sign. But that can’t have been true, because the way you looked at him didn’t change. It never will.” He stops for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. “When you both broke up, I ignored my heart telling me not to dig myself deeper into this, to leave you alone. But I couldn’t, Y/N, because I thought that the risk would be worth it. And it was, you know. You are worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, at a loss for words. You don’t know what else to say, whether it’s a reaction to how your friend is pouring out his heart to you, or the fact that he’s always known that you’d never be his.

The smile on Terry’s face is now a sharp contrast to the strings of tears that mar it. “Don’t be. It’s Minho. It’s always been Minho for you.”

He turns, but you rush forward and block him. You can’t lose someone else. Not again. “Terry, wait! Can’t we be friends?”

“Of course we can be. I’d rather have you as a friend than not in my life at all. I’ll move on, eventually. But you have to go fix things with him now.” He flashes you another one of his signature beams. It doesn’t have the same joyful effect on you as it usually does, now that it’s tainted with sadness. “I’ll see you next class. Hold onto him, okay?”

Terry leaves, and you stare after him at the door, dumbfounded, haunting the entryway of the coffee shop nearing closing hours. You never saw this confrontation coming, not today. And you didn’t want it to happen any time soon, not like this. But no matter how much you want to deny Terry’s words, you know they are the truth. You know what you have to do. Because love works in strange ways, you realize, and now yours needs to be made right.

“We shouldn’t be here.” You say, shaking your head. “It’s dangerous.”

Minho just stares at you, his eyebrow skeptically quirked in a way that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “It’s literally just a bridge.”

You glare at him, before looking out at the arched walkway that connects the wooded expanse of the university library to the rest of campus. According to university lore, any pair of lovers that walks over Forsaken Bridge together is doomed to suffer an untimely separation; hence, its ominous name. And you would rather look stupid for believing in superstition rather than risk losing Minho.

“It can’t be.” You cross your arms stubbornly. “I know so many couples that came here, and they ended up breaking up.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, just pondering your words, and you think he’s about to step back, allowing you to cross the bridge first, before following on his own. But then he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the bridge.

Your immediate reaction is to let out a small scream that cuts through the quiet night, and it’s quickly muffled by Minho’s hand gently closing over your mouth. “Trust me on this. Nothing bad will happen.”

You really want to remind Minho of what happened to Hyunjin and his girlfriend— well, ex-girlfriend— but you let him lead you towards your dreaded destination. Because you do trust him, more than anything.

The balmy summer night sticks to your skin, a feeling that will soon give away to the crisp bite of autumn. You’ve already moved back onto campus to get a headstart on the teaching assistant position for your biology professor, but for the first time ever, you don’t feel sad or apprehensive at the thought of going back to college again. This was the gap in time that you once despised because it signaled the unfortunate trudge of school life: textbooks, homework, and stress. But nowadays, you think it to be a reminder of something better: Minho, Minho, and Minho.

Your boyfriend takes an easy step onto the bridge, his hand tightly clasped in yours. You trail after him more cautiously, hiding behind his broad frame like the bridge will come alive and attack you. “You better not ever break up with me, Lee Minho.”

He turns back to look at you as you both near the center of the supposedly cursed bridge, his lips pressed together in a way that suggests concealed laughter; knowing him, it probably is. “Never. Now close your eyes.”

With a grumpy sigh, you oblige him, shutting your eyes. “For what, Minho?”

“I need to tell you something.” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable. It’s a new color to him, compared to how assured and confident he always seems to be.

You crack open one eye, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”

He frowns, letting go of your hand. “No peeking!”

“Okayy.”

Minho takes a deep breath, right before he turns your world upside down. “I love you.”

Your eyes fly open, and Minho doesn’t complain this time, only gazing at you nervously, clutching his right arm with his left hand like he’s a little kid again. “What did you just say?”

Regardless of his uncertain body language, he looks you directly in the eye. “I love you, Y/N. And I know it’s too soon to say it, but it’s true. I love you, and you don’t have to tell me back, but—”

“I love you too,” you blurt out, and you both just stare at each other for a moment, in mutual shyness and surprise. You can’t believe how good it feels to finally say the words that were hanging off the tip of your tongue for the past few months since you started dating.

Minho’s beautiful face breaks out into a dazzling smile as he steps closer to you. “Then let’s make our own story for this bridge. Two people crossing the bridge together will be lifelong friends. And if they kiss, lifelong lovers.”

Your poor, racing heart can’t take anymore of this; what a man that you have found. “Kiss me, then.”

Minho gives you a tender look, and in that moment, you wish you had a camera to capture it. You can’t seem to remember your initial fear of coming onto this bridge, not when you have a beautiful boy who gazes at you with nothing short of absolute adoration. You’ll follow him anywhere, if it means you’ll stay together. Always and forever.

From when you were a little girl, your parents painted fairy tales for you in your childhood bedroom, of handsome princes mounted on midnight stallions and towering castles set against sunsets. For the longest time, you thought them to be true, because by the time you might have grown up, you found your own handsome prince, who rode a secondhand bike instead of a horse, and his castle was the sweatshirt-strewn dorm room he shared with two other boys. Nevertheless, you so strongly believed you would get your own happily-ever-after, that it took you a long time to accept the thorns in the rosy brush that constituted your outlook on life. You had a hard time understanding your prince, sometimes, and ended up spinning your own stories to fill in the gaps you thought he created. It never once occurred to you that life would never be perfect, and that your prince could not be exactly who you dreamed him to be.

It’s why you stroll the length of Forsaken Bridge alone, materializing its dreary name with your head bent and hands tucked in your pockets. But you’re not surprised either, when you see your prince, standing on the very place where he made you a promise that you broke yourself. His crown is misplaced and his armor has lost its luster, but he’s your beautiful prince, still beautiful while heartbroken over you.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” you say softly.

“I shouldn’t have.” Minho stares at the deteriorating timber planks beneath your feet. “But I can’t say no when it comes to you.”

You shake your head, sniffling lightly. You both hate and love him for being so understanding, so kind, even now. You hate yourself for it, too. “I broke your heart.”

Minho blinks, clasping his hands in front of himself. “There are so many things that I’m sorry and thankful to you for, but you know I’m not good at expressing myself.”

“That’s my line, Min.” You scoff through your tears. “I tried to force you to be someone you're not. And you respond by taking care of me, like you always have. And you listened to me instead of fighting. You walked away.”

“I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted. With or without me in the picture.” Minho shoots you a watery smile. “I love you, you know. I always will.”

You inhale shakily. “And I love you too. I was scared of being hurt because I love you so much. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of what I didn’t know. I should have tried to ask you instead of coming to assumptions on my own.”

“We’re in this together, okay?” Minho steps forward towards you, reaching up to hold your face in his hands. “Remember what I said? You never have to be alone. I’m right here, always.”

Minho rubs his thumbs over your tears, nothing but devotion in his eyes. You touch his arms, pulling him into a hug. “I know I ruined everything, but please come back to me? I’m so, so sorry.”

“Me too. And you ruined nothing.” He squeezes you. “We still have our whole lives ahead of us.”

You draw back from the embrace, smiling through your tears— for once, they’re the good kind. “I love you, Lee Minho. Let’s start over?”

“I love you too, Y/N.” Minho whispers, a grin slowly spreading on his face. “And I don’t want to ruin the moment, but can we begin by finding an apartment, please? If I accidentally drink Hyunjin’s paint water one more time I think I will literally die.”

You laugh, raising your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Only because you want to escape Hyunjin? Not because you love me?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, a light blush tinting his pale skin. “You know what I mean.”

“You should show me what you mean.”

“I should.”

Minho obeys your command, leaning down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss, before you grasp his waist, pulling him closer and deepening the movement. God, you missed this so much. You missed him, so much. Minho’s hands reach up to cup your neck as you trace endless love letters on each other’s lips, campus curses and bad faith banished from your lovestruck young minds.

“See? Looks like our story came true.” he whispers as you come up for air, nudging your nose sweetly with his own. “Lifelong lovers, we’ll be.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” Minho kisses you once more and pulls back, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “This means forever.”

Check out the rest of boys' stories on Love Playlist!

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

It feels so good to get back to Love Playlist <3 This whole series itself was inspired by the cute, college au vibes of the K-drama Love Playlist and its spinoff, Dear M. (starring NCT's Jaehyun, a must-see), but this story especially was heavily based on Dear M.'s second leads. Brownie points if you've noticed which hit superhero TV series I took a piece of dialogue from! I just adore that quote so much. Anyway, I'm a sucker for Minho and this story has a special place in my heart. Can you guess who is next?! And thank you for supporting me, always! -Dreamy

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

TAGLIST @chansburgah @hamburgers101@ajxreads @hash2013 @pixigreen @ana-marais98@ohish@chizumiyoshi@lilydaisyyy@jetblackbelle @143hyunes @yeahhspider

Network: @kflixnet

©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

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whorejolras · 11 days

Text

as promised: jess' les amis fanfic rec list ✨

this is mainly e/r, a little bit of e/r/c and a few courferre

This is just the stuff that was in my bookmarks on ao3 when I started writing this post (months ago lol sorry it took so long). Going through I was shocked to see so many of my faves weren't actually bookmarked so I will for sure do a part two when I find them again, and have also added heaps of new fics to my bookmarks since then, but for now 25 fics is enough 😂

many of these will be rated E and will have sexual content, some are straight up pwp ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ok first is my ultimate fave that isn't even on ao3 anymore, but thankfully is on the authors tumblr, and that's:

Gnomon by luchia

50-80k words (?) (bc it's not on ao3 i'm estimating)

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

terrorist/assassin Enjolras my beloved ever. My fave are the "charming young man capable of being terrible" fics obviously. This one is my #1 e/r like in my head this is it's own canon. & this series has my fave e/r smut scenes ever. I still daydream about a Gnomon tv show...

- trigger warnings bc it's not on ao3 so doesn't have tags: murder, gun and knife violence, bombs, conversations about the deaths of children. this is not healthy relationship fluff but it makes for a 🥵 dynamic that's for damn sure.

also linking the rest of the series which is up on ao3 still, even though it is officially abandoned and unfinished - i am going to break my ultimate rule right off the bat and link an unfinished series bc I like it so much.

stupid terrorist boys by luchia

series, 5 works

200k words

rating: M and E

here we have gnomon's prequels, two sequels, and some one shots in between 🫶🏻

if you're here for kinky pwp Senselessly Happy and Unsuspecting could be good stand-alone (but it's better when reading in order). I would say read Gnomon first on tumblr then read the rest in order on ao3.

Silence Is the Speech of Love by lady_ragnell

50k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire, background Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

Enjolras is cursed for speaking out against the gods, Grantaire is there for him.

will I ever shut up about this fic? Never. fave fave fave. the world building, the mythological/religious system, the writing, the "I love you" "I don't think you do, actually" scene URGH!!!! I think of this fic every time i hear chopsticks. Everything happening with courf/marius/cosette, and the genius inclusion of social worker Fantine my beloved. This is one of those "could be it's own novel" fics.

and the sequel from Enjolras' pov 😭 - Left Unsaid

World Ain't Ready by idiopathicsmile

185k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes it's the top fic yes everyone probably knows it but it's good for a reason. THE fake dating high school au fic that I broke all my rules for back in 2015. I refused to read unfinished fics, let alone T rated high school fics, yet I remember waiting for the updates for this one as it came out, messaging mutuals on the day the last chapter was released. and every time I reread I remember why. Brilliantly written, the pining, the angst, the miscommunications. All the Joly and Bossuet scenes.

honourable mention to the scene where Joly is so excited for the battle of the bands, then next scene starts with "I think it's more of a sitting night today" the realest simple yet most gut punching illustration of chronic pain that gets my ass every time.

Lovesickness by idiopathicsmile

11k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire, Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

(we're gonna see a fair bit of idiopathicsmile on here)

this is one of my absolute favourites. not only bc I quote "hit by a truck full of shirts" all the time. a Joly pov fic!!!!!! my beloved!!!!! I'm a BIG JBM fan (they are essential to me when I'm writing grantaire) and love fics that stay true to his friendship with Joly and Bossuet. also I love when Enjolras is a giant dumbass who thinks his feelings for Grantaire is a mystery illness 😂

Still the Same by The Librarina (tears_of_nienna)

74k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

ok ok ok. listen. Yes. in this fic, Enjolras IS an fbi agent... and u know i'm the first and last to scream acab always...

that being said this is fully still one of my fave e/r/c fics. Enjolras and Combeferre are married & Enjolras needs to work with art thief Grantaire (fave) on a case. also that one bit at the end when Grantaire *redacted* 👀🫣

cupbearer by illuminate*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

series, 4 works

124k words total

ratings: T, M & E

Enjolras/Grantaire

this series!!!!!! VAMPIRE ENJOLRAS!!!! thrall Grantaire!!!! canon era AND modern au! REINCARNATION!!!! i'm eeeeaaaaattiiiing 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

More Than Just a Game by ecaitlin

36k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre

Fake dating courferre 😭 this one is so good for the desert scene alone 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 one of my fave courferre fics

Good Intentions by ecaitlin

95k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Combeferre, background Marius/Cosette, Joly/Bossuet, Bahorel/Feuilly, and Enjolras/Grantaire ofc

THE les amis hogwarts au. 95k of Courfeyrac pov is always a treat for the system. in their last year at hogwarts, Courfeyrac decides to play matchmaker for all his friends. shenanigans!!!! fuck jkr, but whenever I wanna reread harry potter again I read this fic 🫶🏻 fave courferre ever, and also fave background e/r

if you remembered me by nightswatch*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

one thing about me is I love an amnesia fic! Enjolras loses his memory and Grantaire helps him recover 👀 this one's for the hurt/comfort and miscommunication/not being upfront about shit fans. also there's some past Grantaire/Combeferre and i'm always a fan

Beautiful Music Together by lady_ragnell

31k words

rating: E

Courfeyrac/Marius/Cosette

a rare Courf/Marius/Cosette fic for your palette. established Marius/Cosette need a little help from their good friend Courf with their sex life 👀 while the three of them also work on a musical assignment together 😭 prequel to You Dance Dreams kinda 👀

You Dance Dreams by lady_ragnell

61k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

(you can tell when i've found a writer who has a fair few fics and just gone nuts lol, lots of lady_ragnell too)

BALLET AU I LOVE YOU!!!!!! so set in the same universe as Beautiful Music Together, Combeferre ropes everyone into working on his opera, a Midsummer Night's Dream sequel. Grantaire dances as Puck alongside Enjolras singing as Oberon 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻

In Defiance of all Geometry by idopathicsmile

51k words

rating: T

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

this is a top fave E/R/C fic and a top fave les amis fic of all time! Them living in a co-op and all the little details of how they make it work is sooooo real and anyone who wants to see accurately written community organising in les amis fic it's here! now for the ✨romance✨ - Grantaire moves in to the amis co-op and starts crushing on both Enjolras and Combeferre, who have both been pining for each other for years.

Years Since It's Been Clear by lady_ragnell

10k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Enjolras offers his spare room to grantaire - or the one where enjolras chases the sun across the living room floor like a cat. That image has lived rent free in my head for and I am not exaggerating here, 10 years.

Gonna need (a spark to ignite) by FinditAgain*

*this one is locked, you need an account to view

47k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

soulmate au! soulmate au with E/R/C!!!!!!! enjolras and combeferre are soulmates who lost their bond as children. when combeferre and enjolras find each other as adults, enjolras is already in an established relationship with grantaire 👀👀👀

secret agent man by goshemily

30k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

yes another cop one haha 😭 bc if ur not able to contradict urself with the media u like are u even a person? but also I wouldn't recommend if it wasn't a good read for the stairs scene alone 😅 Enjolras and Grantaire need to go undercover as a married couple in a small town.

Leaves in the Void by myrmidryad

16k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this is one i've found since rejoining tumblr late last year that 😭 fully broke my heart bro 😭 space au, enjolras writes letters to everyone when he's accidentally isolated on a ship for what to him was eight and half months but was two hours for everyone else.

Blame Delicate Artemis by hyenateeth

22k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

posting omegaverse on main? more likely than you think!

this is porn with a tiny bit of plot, but also one of my fave for femslash e/r and also..... girl dick. that's all.

omega enjolras alpha grantaire canon era lesbians.

that's enough description to find its right audience I feel

Eyes to Serve, Hands to Learn by myrmidryad

94k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

Grantaire runs into Enjolras at a kink club. enter 94,000 words of bdsm porn and pining. mostly dom Enjolras and submissive Grantaire, mostly.

Never Be Satisfied by torakowalski

15k words

rating: E

femslash Enjolras/Grantaire

dental dam mention! win!

Grantaire gives Enjolras some advice, lends some toys, and then offers some hands on help when she learns Enjolras has never come before 😏

potentially lovely, perpetually human by myrmidryad

20k words

not rated, does contain smut

Enjolras/Grantaire

lots of myrmidryad here too lol

two of my favourite tropes here. 1: supernatural Enjolras who's in control of his abilities except when it comes to Grantaire (see cupbearer series) and 2: nonbinary Grantaire my beloved!!! Enjolras has psychic empathy triggered by physical touch, so he refuses to touch anyone: until his touch starved ass accidentally touches Grantaire and feels what they're feeling 🥹

Witchboy by tothewillofthepeople

series, 8 works

84k words

rating: T, M

Enjolras/Grantaire

this one is a more recent recommendation that I loved, the world building and magic is so good, there's some great background eposette and patron minette which I'm always a fan of.

i'm not the moon (i'm not even a star) by serinesaccade

40k words

rating: M

Enjolras/Grantaire

amnesia fic and fake dating 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 this time we've got Grantaire losing his memories and waking up in a world where he has a really hot boyfriend, but apparently his 1.5 year relationship with Enjolras isn't what it seems 👀

and let's round this out with a classic

Thirty-Two Times by Ark

7k words

rating: E

Enjolras/Grantaire

the bottom R canon era bible 🙏🏻

i'm sorry i feel like my emoji use is very millennial. jsyk 👌🏻 is me clicking with my nails ok bye 😘

if you want more i'm whorejolras on ao3 go nuts 🙌🏻

#mine #omg me actually doing something i said i'd do only like four months later look at that #adhd one hell of a drug yall #fic recs #fanfic #les mis fanfic #les amis fanfic #e/r #les mis #grantaire #enjolras #les amis #e/r/c #courferre #jbm #les miserables #why is my capitalisation all over the place?? uhh look over there 👈🏃‍♂️💨#sorry not tagging ppl on tumble even though i know the authors are bc adding the links was hassle enough and also i don't wanna bother any1

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aphroditelovesu · 9 months

Text

The Lost Queen - V

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: +2,370.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 5

You looked at Perdiccas fondly, feeling happy and relieved to have an ally, no, a friend in the midst of all this chaos.

''Can we come in?'' He asked smiling gently.

''Yes.''

Perdiccas took your hand and led you to the tent. Opening the flap of the tent, you entered along with Perdiccas and they were greeted by an impressive sight.

Even though they were in the middle of a military camp and in the middle of nowhere, it was still well prepared and decorated. There was a large table set up where everyone else was sitting and chatting like old friends. You looked at the food and there was a wide variety, to your surprise, fruits, breads, cakes, lots of wine, water and other foods that you couldn't identify at the moment.

It was really well done.

Everyone stopped talking the moment you started walking to the table. There were two free chairs, one beside a black-haired and bearded general and one beside another you had recognized as the one who had insulted your outfit a few hours ago. You snorted at the thought and, letting go of Perdiccas's hand, you sat down in the chair beside the black-haired and bearded general. Perdiccas frowned a little, but took the chair next to his friend.

You, aware of the stares, felt sulky and embarrassed. You coughed a little and looked at the general beside you who smiled at you.

''Hello...'' You murmured softly.

He chuckled a little and leaned in close to you, ''Hello.'' His voice was deep and amused.

You nodded, but didn't look away. You knew it was rude not to look at someone when they were talking to you.

''Your name is (Y/N), isn't it?'' It wasn't a question, but you nodded. ''Nice to meet you. I am Cleitus.''

Oh. You blinked in surprise, remembering him from the history books. Cleitus the Black, a veteran general who fought under Philip and Alexander after Philip death.

''It's a pleasure and an honor.'' You said, your voice a little louder. If it were possible, Cleitus' smile widened even more.

You just smiled, not knowing what to say. But honestly, what could you talk about? All of this still felt like a dream, a nightmare, but it wasn't. You was over 2,000 years in the past and was dealing with people who are already dead to you. So how was you supposed to carry on a conversation?

You had never been a very communicative person, although you had her friends, you were quite quiet and never bothered. Everyone understood you and it never bothered you that she was a person of few words.

But now...

Now you didn't know what to do. You needed to say something, you needed to because everyone was looking at you like you were an alien. Not that you judged them, because you was quite different from them. Maybe not in appearance, because as far as you was aware, you are human and looked like one, but... Your way of acting and the clothes you had worn earlier were obviously not common.

You needed to leave soon.

You cleared your throat and grabbed a glass of wine, sipping a little and, in a weak attempt to break the ice, you said, ''The wine is excellent.''

You stole a look at Perdiccas and smiled when you saw the explicit approval in his eyes.

''Indeed, it's excellent.'' You turned towards the voice and frowned a little when you realized it was the man who had called you a whore earlier. You didn't know his name, yet, but you could already tell the two wouldn't get along.

''Why, Craterus, be polite!'' You looked at the other man, Ptolemy, you recognized him, who had warned the one had called her a whore.

Craterus. She mentally rolled her eyes, of course it had to be him.

Craterus bared his teeth at the other man, ''I'm nice, Ptolemy.''

''Where are you even from, (Y/N)?'' You turned to look at who had caught her eye. You smiled at him, it was Hephaestion.

''I'm from...'' You thought for a while, ''a very far place, as I said before.''

Hephaestion smiled at you and his face got hot. Why did he have to be handsome?

''Yes, I remember.'' He looked at Alexander who was drinking wine.

He smiled at his friend, that is, if they were just friends, and turned his gaze to you.

''But we would like to know the name, ma'am.''

You frowned and sighed. Fine, if they wanted to know the name of your country, they would, but it wouldn't do any good.

''I'm from (C/N).''

''(C/N)? Never heard of it.'' He replied, looking at you intently.

''It's a very distant and unimportant place, not worth mentioning.'' You lied, hoping he would stop asking questions.

Hephaestion hummed and decided not to ask any more questions, picking up his glass of water, and drinking its liquid. You noticed that he was the only one who didn't drink wine at the table.

You grabbed your wine and drank one more time, sure you needed alcohol to settle your nerves from that night. Getting drunk wasn't the smartest decision, you knew that, but a little drinking wouldn't hurt.

It's not like you're going to fall down drunk, right?

Drinking really hadn't been your best choice.

Was it your tenth glass of wine? You had stopped counting after the seventh.

You weren't exactly weak to liquor, but this wine was pretty strong. It was sweet, which only increased your liking for it and you had lost count of the glasses you had had.

If you were sober you might have noticed Alexander's eyes on you.

''So, (Y/N)...'' Your mind, numbed by drink, had hardly noticed that it was Alexander himself who was speaking to you. ''How is this your Birthplace? (C/N), I believe?''

You muttered something unintelligible.

''What did you say? Repeat.'' He ordered, not taking his eyes off you.

You looked up from your plate and looked at the King who was staring at you as if he could read your thoughts. You frowned and pouted, but replied, ''It's a nice spot…''

''Nice?'' He looked more than a little dissatisfied with your answer.

''It's sparsely populated and unknown... No big deal, my King...'' Your voice was slurred with drink, but you were still sane enough not to say anything that might give you away.

''And the location?'' Alexander persisted.

''Very far away.''

''How far?''

You growled. Was this a fucking interrogation? Something clicked in your mind and you grabbed some water, thinking about your answer.

''Very far away.''

''If it's so far away, how did you end up near my camp?''

Fuck.

''I do not remember.''

''Do not you remember? Do you remember where you are, your name and you remember how to speak greek but you don't know how you ended up in my camp?'' He sneers and you feel like flying at his neck.

Fortunately for Alexander's neck, Hephaestion decided to intervene.

''Alexander! I don't think this is going to go anywhere, we're not in an interrogation and it's obvious that (Y/N) is drunk. Asking questions will do no good at this point.''

Alexander looks at Hephaestion and sighs, drinking his wine again. He must have had a pretty good intolerance for alcohol because he had drunk more than you and was quite capable of acting the way he wanted to.

You drank five bottles of alcohol with your friends and you were almost falling drunk on the sidewalks.

Your friends... Your heart ached at the thought of them. How would they be? Would May and Andrew still be their usual melodrama? Did they miss you?

With these thoughts about your friends, a wave of depression washed over you. You shrank back in your chair and that caught Cleitus's attention.

''Hey girl, are you alright?'' He was just as drunk, if not more, than you were.

''Yes... Just some bad thoughts.'' You mumbled and took a piece of bread.

''I know how it is...'' He frowned, ''Sometimes I have some bad thoughts too. It's horrible, isn't it? You would think a general like me would be above that, but I'm not.''

You were surprised by his sincerity.

''No, I don't think...'' You shrugged, feeling a little more sober, ''We all have bad moments and terrible thoughts. It's human, isn't it?

Cleitus looked at you and smiled lovingly.

''Yes, you're right.'' He brought his hand to your cheek and squeezed it gently, you looked at him in surprise but didn't interrupt him. ''Your skin is smooth and unscarred...''

You mentally scoffed. You weren't a soldier, so it was obvious you didn't have any battle scars.

Without waiting for your answer, Cleitus removed his hand and looked into your eyes. You felt something inexplicable when those eyes as black as night stared at you.

''I liked you, (Y/N). I hope we can be friends.''

You looked at him delighted and felt your eyes wet. Friends... You liked the sound of that.

''I'd really like that.'' He smiled at you and drank some more of his wine. You looked at his plate and picked up a grape, biting into it heartily.

Friends. That was good. It would be good for you to make friends.

The hours passed and you had forgotten all your sorrows, your fears as you ate, drank and talked.

You felt like you had known them for years and you liked it.

Cleitus and Nearchus were two comedies. The two of them together were like comedians, cracking jokes and laughing. You had even gone so far as to squirt wine through your nose after they made you laugh.

At that point, you felt more comfortable and happy.

Really happy.

You could get used to it, with them if everything was different. It was a disturbing thought, but true.

Everything was calm and fun. With the loud laughter and the strong smell of alcohol, but it didn't last long.

Not when Alexander, visibly drunk and not a little, decided to open his mouth.

''I wish to marry (Y/N).''

The entire table fell silent and everyone looked back and forth between you and Alexander.

Your heart soared at his words.

Cleitus looked at you and frowned at your reaction. That wasn't right and he decided to protect you.

The previously happy environment had become hostile and not even the music masked the discouragement everyone felt at Alexander's announcement.

You closed your eyes, feeling like digging a hole like ostriches did and hiding your head. Or to cry. Either option would do.

This was too much to handle. You hadn't even been there for a whole day and a mess was about to break out. You just hoped it didn't end in anyone's murder.

How foolish you were to think you could live in peace for a while.

''What do you mean, Alexander?'' Hephaestion asked, sure he had misheard.

''What you heard.'' The King replied to his best friend, drinking some more of his wine. You frowned, but wisely kept quiet. It was better not to say anything at the moment.

''Did drink rob you of all your good judgment, my King?'' Cleitus sneered loudly and shamelessly, drawing everyone's attention.

Alexander's head turned towards Cleitus and he glared at the general with seething hatred. Your stomach lurched and nausea hit you, an urge to throw out all the food you'd consumed tonight. By god, or gods, you didn't know that much more, but you prayed to anyone that no one was killed.

Especially Cleitus.

You had seen Alexander's maddening gaze and felt dread. Not for you, but for others. For the people you came to enjoy the company of after this feast.

''Do you dare question me, Cleitus?'' Alexander's drunken voice could carry through the entire tent and you flinched at his tone.

Cleitus didn't answer, just sipped his wine and picked up a lone grape from his plate, popping it into his mouth. He didn't say anything, but disapproval was visible in the veteran general's gaze.

And that was enough for Alexander.

Everyone alarmed when Alexander rose from his chair, furious, and pointed an accusing finger at the general sitting next to him.

''I suggest you hold your tongue, Cleitus.'' Alexander snarled, placing callused hands on his waist. It would have been a comical sight, you supposed, since he wasn't very tall, but that didn't stop him.

No, it definitely wasn't an impediment.

Alexander might not be a tall man, but he was intimidating. And that was understandable, he had been trained since he was a child and was a warrior, a general and a King created to kill and conquer and destroy those who stand in his way without remorse.

He was a dangerous man. A man who could make you die in the most painful ways. And yet here you were, sharing a meal with him like it was nothing.

Cleitus rose from his chair, his face twisted into a grimace.

''Do you want to marry her?'' He pointed at you, and if you weren't scared, you could tell you were offended. ''Are you that drunk, Alexander?''

Alexander pushed his chair to the side and your eyes widened as he grabbed a sword from his waist.

''Think carefully about your next words.'' Alexander growled loudly and raised his sword, pointing it at the general at his side.

But Cleitus didn't listen to reason, he picked up his own sword and everyone's eyes widened as he placed it on the table.

The others rose cautiously, Ptolemy holding Cleitus by the arm with help from Nearchus, while Hephaestion and Perdiccas held Alexander. Cassander and Philotas watched all this with neutral, amused expressions.

Craterus and Parmenion looked tempted to intervene, but they didn't budge.

You got up from the table and tried to calm Cleitus. You couldn't let him die, not like this...

But he didn't care and neither did Alexander. The moment the general raised his sword, Alexander broke free of his friends' grip and lunged at the general. You screamed as Alexander thrust his sword into Cleitus' abdomen, and Cleitus screamed in pain and fell against you and those still holding him.

Alexander had stabbed Cleitus.

You didn't know what to do. You needed to help him, you needed to save his life. Cleitus shouldn't die now.

You wouldn't let him die now.

— lady l: ...I don't have anything to declare, except that maybe this wasn't the drama you expected? This is just a taste of the real drama to come! I hope you enjoyed it, thanks for reading and drink water!!

#yandere history #history #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere historical characters #the lost queen #alexander the great x reader #long fic #fanfic #tlq

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year

Note

omg the first two parts of the hughes sister and adam is so good ur writing is so nice.

need a part where adam and reader explain to luke how they didnt know when they started going out and lukes reaction

The apology—

Au Masterlist!!

Luke and you had not talked since his tantrum in the hotel room (I would be pissed too if I was him, but I always support women's wrongs.)

Not to mention the way that he had ignored you like the plague the moment you both landed back in Michigan.

If there was one thing besides hockey Luke was good at, it was holding grudges (tell me I'm wrong. you can't. I'm always right.)

You on the other hand were distraught, over the entire last 24 hours in halifax

Not only did you have to say goodbye to all your family members and return back to Umich for the winter semester, but your best friend was no longer on speaking terms with you.

You saw Adam a handful of times in the next month, opting to put a pause on your relationship until you figured your shit out

Adam was really good at making you feel better about the guilt (which is a big reason you asked to take a break)

You needed the guilt, you needed to feel bad about it all so you could apologize to Luke for breaking his trust.

Luke Warren Hughes is a bitch for making you cry and doubt your morals like that (I keep it real)

Adam on the other hand was obviously upset about it but was more mad at Luke for being okay with letting his little sister suffer over something so stupid.

Luke and Adam definitely got into it one day at practice

They are doing drills when one of the other boys makes a comment about how Adam was being uptight (cause he's no longer getting laid 🤭)

That comment really hit a weak spot for Luke and while they were scrimmaging he and Adam got into a scrum (Adam fighting 😼)

Naurato and Nolan pulled both boys from practice and brought them into the office

Nolan absolutely ripped into them for bringing their personal issues onto the ice and spewed some (as both Luke and Adam would say) bullshit about breaking the bond of the team.

Both the boys sat in silence as they awaited their dismissal

But before they both left Adam stopped Luke in the doorway to finally address the situation

"I know you're mad, be mad at me all you want, I don't care, but don't torture your sister," he said with exhaustion filling his tone, as he walked out of the office.

Luke was definitely taken aback

So he got home to the sophomore house and gave you a call

"Lu? Is everything okay?" your voice filled with worry as he let out a sigh on the other end of the call.

"I want us to figure this out." "Can I come over to talk?" "Please."

and that's how you ended up in your brother's room, with a sad look on your face as he hugged you and shut the door behind him.

I like to picture the four other boys living in the house sitting by the door trying to listen in on the conversation (these boys live and breathe for a good drama session)

The two siblings sat there tensely for a second before you finally started to explain

"I had no idea who he was, up until the hockey party" you confessed, slight guilt about allowing it to continue after a certain point (let's be fr she's not that guilty... I mean have you seen Adam??)

Luke was still having trouble understanding why you would go after Adam, even after finding out that he was on the team, knowing the rule that middle school Luke and yourself made

"I really like him, Lu, he's the first boy I've felt a genuine connection with," you softly smiled, face turning a light shade of pink as you thought about the past few months.

"Meeting him on my own terms and him not knowing about Jacky, Quinner, or you was the best part, cause I didn't have to feel like I had something to prove"

Luke just sat there with parted lips while staring at the slight embarrassment on your face as you spilt your guts

He'd never thought of it that way

He had no idea you'd been insecure about this type of thing

"He's really worth it?" Luke joked as you bit back a smile and nodded your head, "he really is."

Luke nodded slowly and pulled you in for another hug, the tears that you had been holding in let themselves go as you began hugging him back

At that moment he made a silent promise to never ignore you again, not like the way he had, not to let you suffer

"You're really sure he's okay? Cause I have no problem fighting him in your honour"

A laugh passed your lips, "I already heard about your little scrum this morning"

Luke is a softie for his little sister (confirmed)

#tinydancerau!!#adam fantilli #adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli imagine #luca fantilli #luke hughes #quinn hughes #umich hockey #jack hughes #umich imagine

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xxbottlecapx · 8 months

Text

I saw someone make an ASMR au where Eddie and Steve are asmrtists so I wanted to throw out an idea into the void

Eddie is an up and coming asmrtist who specializes in mainly satirical/crack ASMR. Steve, a beauty asmrtists who does mostly OOTD, makeup/hair content, absolutely falls in love with Eddie’s videos due to homesickness.

Steve and Robin had to move for college and he misses the party (Dustin, Erica, Eleven, Will, Lucas, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Mike) a lot, and we all know that together that is an absolute Force to be reckoned with.

Steve stumbles upon Eddie’s small YouTube channel and falls in love with how chaotic his videos are. It reminds him of the insanity of home, and the small DND rambles are always the best way to stop Steve from crying.

I’m just imagining Steve clicking a video and Eddie’s face comes on screen, he has rings on his fingers and he waved to the camera calmly, doesn’t do an intro, and whispers “hey, you look tense. Does your back hurt? Oh, it doesn’t?” And Steve thinks it’s gonna be a normal role play until Eddie pulls out a knife and goes “would you like it to?” And it just devolved into chaos after that where Eddie pretends to get kidnapped by aliens or something.

One of Eddie’s most famous videos is of him pretending to be a guy the viewer has a one night stand with and he goes around your house dropping dnd figurines in all your shoes. There’s another one under the one night stand category where Eddie is obviously playing the role of someone you’re trying to seduce into bed but he keeps getting sidetracked and talks about odd conspiracy theories and keeps trying to show you how cool his shrek impersonation is.

There’s one where Eddie is literally doing ASMR dumpster diving but he only speaks the entire bee movie script. (Think AngelicaASMR before she entered her trad fem phase.) Eddie has a video where he pretends to be a raccoon trying to overtake the government, and he ends up making it a series and eventually he adds a plot to it. There’s also one where he is having a serious conversation about the struggles of raising children until you realize that the person he’s talking to is a tiny plastic dinosaur. He also has a mini series where he plays with said tiny plastic dinosaur and pretty much makes a soap opera using a bunch of cheap trinkets. there’s some especially deranged ones where you’re a door and Eddie is trying to rip you off your hinges. There’s one where he runs a cult based off of guitar picks but it gets increasingly harder and more nonsensical to follow as the video continues.

Every once in a while he’ll break character and laugh into the camera, unable to keep himself together, but he never takes it out. He is NOT taking himself seriously at all and Steve adores it.

#crack prompt #asmr #steve harrington #steddie #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #eddie x steve #stranger things #asmrtist AU #fanfic ideas

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 1 year

Text

Hey, Mickey!

University AU TW: Language, Alcohol Consumption, P w/out P, Hook-Up Culture, Y/N's a bit promiscuous but so are her friends lmfao Smut Warnings: Sloppy Make Outs, Penetrative Sex, Degradation, Name Calling, Oral (Giving and Receiving), Fingering, Overstimulation, San's a meanie (translated: soft dom ish), Unprotected Sex (contraceptives are sexy guys), Creampie, Cockwarming(ish), Manhandling, Multiple Orgasms Genre: Romance, Smut, Exes-to-FWB-to-Lovers, Minors DNI Pairing: Choi San x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.3K

[Other Groups Masterlist] [Ao3 Link] | [Wattpad Link]

Notes: I'm in my choi san era and the hey mickey you so fine audio has been stuck in my head all day so oop here we go Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

"Oh, yeah, he's my ex-boyfriend," you shrugged.

"He's your ex?!" Your friend shouted and you flinched back. She whips her head back and turns your head gently for you to follow her gaze.

"Way to be subtle..."

"Look at him! He's sculpted like a god!" She whispers harshly. San, meanwhile, shakes his hair with his hand while talking to two of your other friends. Sure, you could see why your friend found him attractive, all the surface-level bull shit at the very least. Good build, strong figure, killer jawline, etc. etc. Hell, sometimes you swear he'd subtly flex on purpose just to get his admirers swooning. He's so fucking pretentious for that. But his looks are where it ends.

"You're overreacting," you rolled your eyes and pulled away from her. Cocky and good for nothing, whenever you'd spend any amount of time with San you'd always get worked up in some shape or form. Once your friend saw how much of a shitty person he could be she'd definitely run the other way. Choi San was basically a walking red flag.

"(Y/N), how the fuck did you fumble the bag with him?! He's so damn fine," she chews on the tip of her thumb.

"Okay, hold on," you defended yourself, "first of all, I broke up with him, and second of all, it was a mutual agreement to break up," you explained. Your friend groaned and slumped against her chair.

"So he's off limits then?" She asks sadly.

"Off limits? Far from, by all means take him," you waved your hand absently. "San and I agreed to go back to being friends, we worked better that way anyway," you shook your head. Just friends, you weren't really lying, you were just cutting around the truth.

"How long did you date?"

"Two years."

"Fuck... How long has it been since you broke up?" She asks.

"Three years."

"Oh, shit, okay then!" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, go get him, tiger," you said with a chided tone. Yeosang breaks his conversation with San as soon as he spots you. Your friend brushes past him, bumping into his shoulder on her way over but sparing no other interaction. Yeosang side-eyed her until he finally reached you.

"What's up with her?"

"He got her," you laughed without sparing a glance.

"He has that effect," Yeosang takes the now spare chair. "You're still on for tonight, though, right?" You looked up from your computer.

"Of course, I am, when have I ever said no to a party?" You asked. Yeosang throws his hands up.

"Just asking! Last time we went out you bailed!"

"I didn't bail I ended up hooking up with someone so I got busy!" You explained. Someone who just happened to be talking up your friend at the moment.

"Sure, (Y/N)! Ditch your childhood friends so you could go fuck around, we don't mind!" Wooyoung hops into the conversation. Technically you didn't ditch your childhood friends, considering he is one of them. "As long as you bring us, of course," he grins.

"Screw you!" You pushed his head away playfully. "I'm serious, I have to finish this before we go out tonight." You waved your hand to silence Wooyoung and continued typing away.

"You're such a killjoy, (Y/N)," Wooyoung sits on the other chair now. "What are you wearing?" He asks. You slid your phone to him to show him the picture and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Whoops, wrong one," you slid your finger across the screen to show the actual outfit.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wooyoung swiped to the previous picture and leaned toward Yeosang, who shrugged and continued drinking his iced coffee.

"Saw that one already."

"Huh?!" Wooyoung's jaw dropped.

"Bruh, I told you to choose the other one!" Yeosang argues.

"I didn't like the other one!" You fought back. Wooyoung swipes to the previous picture.

"No, yeah, (Y/N)'s right, she looks better in the black one," Wooyoung agrees.

"The blue looks better," Yeosang swipes to the blue lingerie picture and Wooyoung responds with a shocked expression.

"He just doesn't get it," Wooyoung shook his head.

"(Y/N), thanks for watching my things," your friend bounds back and grabs her backpack.

"How'd it go?" You ask.

"He's taking me with him to the party tonight!" She couldn't hide her excitement. "Oh, who are your other friends here?" She looks between the two boys that joined you.

"Close friends."

"We're friends with San too," Wooyoung speaks up right on time for San to arrive.

"Oh... oh, (Y/N), wait, are you sure you're okay with me talking to San?" She asks with apologetic eyes.

"Yeah, go for it, I'm talking to someone new anyway," you shrugged. Now that caught San's attention. You tried not to look at him, memories of just last week resurfacing now.

"Right! The guy from orgo, right?" Your friend sneaks in a sly look with an even slyer grin. "Tell me how your date goes tomorrow!" She gives you a side hug before smiling at San. Then, she was gone.

"Guy from orgo?" Yeosang asks. You took a deep breath, leave it to her to spill a secret.

"He's nice, and his name is Mark, so don't be mean!" you defended him.

"Do we know him?" Wooyoung butts in. "Come on, we know basically everything about each other, tell us about this guy," he insists.

"Nothing big, okay? He's just a sweet guy who asked me out on a date, alright?" You shut your laptop, knowing full well that your essay won't be done any time soon.

"You guys fuck yet?" Yeosang asks.

"Holy shit, straight to the point," you grimaced at him.

"Hup, that expression says everything. And you said yes to going out on another date?" Yeosang presses. "Wait, wait, is this why you asked me what color of lin-"

"Shut up, Yeo, we're in public!" You shushed him quickly, just in time to catch San's glance. "But... yeah, alright? He's just sweet, okay? I want it to work out," you cleared your throat. "He got me flowers the other day..." your face began to heat up.

"Holy shit," Yeosang shakes his head. "The bar is set so low."

"The bar is you, my guy," Wooyoung laughs at San. "Imagine how shitty of a boyfriend you have to be for your ex to be blown away when she gets flowers."

"What kind of flowers?" Yeosang asks.

"Lilacs! Look how cute they are," you showed him a picture.

"Aww, good for you, (Y/N), you deserve someone sweet like that," he nudges you softly.

"Yeah, (Y/N), you're always into assholes, so maybe this will shake things up a little," Wooyoung jokes.

"Hey," San finally speaks up.

"You are an asshole!" You all respond.

"Yeah, an asshole who's DDing you two later so watch your mouth," San glares at Wooyoung and Yeosang, who only roll their eyes.

"We're not even going to get that drunk!"

"I am so drunk!" Wooyoung cries into your arms while Yeosang threw up in a trashcan next to you.

"Dear god, okay, it's okay, Wooyoung," you comforted him.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Wooyoung grimaces.

"Ew, no, no, share the trashcan with Yeo," you shoved him off of you and tumbled out of the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and the girl who was next line looked at you with pleading eyes. "You don't want to go in there," you waved your hand and she ran off to find another bathroom. You pulled your phone out and typed out a quick response to Mark.

"Sending your friend after me? That's a dirty trick, (Y/N)," San leaned against the wall, effectively blocking your way out of the hall. You shoved your phone in your bra and took a deep breath.

"Hey, I didn't send her, she went herself," you shrugged.

"Is that right?" He leans toward you, hand playing with your dress strap. "She's waiting for me in this room here, you know," he nudges his head toward the door next to him. Your eyes slid over to it, the stark image of your poor friend waiting for her hook-up to return crossing your mind. San leans down to your ear, pulling you closer with the aforementioned dress strap. "Why don't we go into the room next to it?" Your eyes met his in an instant. You swore you wouldn't do this again.

"I hate you," you pushed forward and pressed your lips to his. Instantly, he fell into rhythm, like he had many times before, and like he would in the future. You pushed him against the door, the weak thing rattling against its frame, and your friend's surprised yelp resounding despite the deafening music. San smirked against your lips, one hand tugging your dress down your shoulders while the other held the side of your face. Quickly, the kiss got messier, it was gross, almost. Teeth grazing each other and tongues swirling together, it was disgusting, but fuck were you both into it. San pulled you into the next room over and kicked the door shut. He pushed you down onto the bed and climbed on top of you, his hands were gripping the bottom of his shirt before you pulled him down to kiss him again. You tugged at his belt buckle while his lips moved down from your lips to your neck, and you were just barely pulling it off by the time he started to bite down on your nape, and your hands squeezed at the leather while a strained moan escaped you. San pauses before pressing his lips against the shell of your ear.

"Oh, come on, you can do better than that." His knee pushes up between your legs and they open near habitually. You pulled his shirt off right as he pushed your skirt up, his belt was clattering against the floor right next to your panties, and now your dress was pooled under his jeans near the corner of the bed. San's lips attached to your chest, inching closer to your nipples as his hand pushed against your thigh.

Then, it hit you. You had a date tomorrow. You had a date with a wonderful guy, someone who treated you with so much care that you didn't even know was possible, and here you were, about to get dicked down by your ex-boyfriend just like you had been for months now. You grabbed onto his wrist and he stopped. He pushed himself up so that he hovered above you now.

"We can't do this, we said we'd stop," you were out of breath. San didn't say a single word, no, it was like he was waiting for you to really think harder about this. You pushed yourself up on your elbows, ready to leave, but San kept you caged between him. "I... I'm seeing someone right now," you admitted this, but you couldn't meet his eyes.

"Talking or dating?" He asks. You still couldn't look at him.

"Talking," you muttered. With two fingers he pushed against your cheek to face him.

"Are we going to fuck or not?" He asked. "If you want to stop right now, then I'll stop and go next door. If not, tell me now." He said in a low voice. Hell... you can't say no to him when you're looking at him like this. Plus... you really didn't want your friend to have sex with him.

"What's one more fuck?" You shook your head. It was the same thing you said last time, the time before that, and the time before that. What's one more fuck? That stupid smirk that San was so good at appeared on his face again while he moved down.

"What's one more fuck?" He mocks you. "You gonna say that again tomorrow when you come running back to me after that date of yours?" His tongue traces up the inside of your thighs and your arms start to give in under you. "Are you going to say that to me again after he fucks you too? When you find out that he can't take care of you the way I do?" His tongue swipes up your pussy now and your thighs tense up. San's hands held them down now, the skin beneath them no doubt bruising. Then, when you felt the feather-light kiss against your clit, you knew what you'd agreed to. San ate you out like everything was on the line, his tongue practically scooped at your walls like he was trying to get every last drop into him. Your hips bucked up, but he kept you pressed down, and your hand that had found its way into his hair seemed to work on its own.

"Ah... fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum," you shook your head against the mattress and you bundled his hair into your hands. "San, fuck, just like that," your moans grew louder with every circular motion he made. He sucked on your clit and, like that, you were undone. Your thighs pressed against his hands while your pussy clenched around his tongue, but not once did he let up, no, instead he picked up the pace. You rode through your first orgasm with him already building up your second one, but before you could get there, he rose up, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand.

His hand presses against your pussy now, middle finger tracing the lips so gently. "Baby, I hope you weren't planning on enjoying the party, cuz you're in for a night," he chuckles. He kisses you again, with the slight bitter aftertaste of you on his tongue. He presses two fingers into you and your breath hitches again, then it's stolen by him, who deepened the kiss. You moaned against him, and you squirmed each time he pressed against your g-spot.

"San, ah," your voice shook and you pressed your head against the mattress again, trying your best to control yourself. He pressed his thumb against your clit and a high-pitched sound bubbled up your throat. He rolled it in small circles and your breathing picked up. His fingers plunged into you and your hands groped toward his cock. You gripped onto the waistband of his boxers, making small tugging motions that grew in intensity with each thrust. You finally pulled them down and he kicked it off. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and pumped it up and down. "Ah, wait, I'm cumming," your handjob slowed to a halt right as you felt your pussy clamping around him.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," his hand slows and he pulls his hand out. "Open." Your tongue lolled out of your mouth and San shoved his fingers inside your cheek, lipstick smearing under his thumb. His cock lined up at your pussy and he pushed into you.

"Oh fuck," you moaned. San gripped onto your chin now, his other hand holding onto the bedframe behind you while he worked his cock into you. Every time he'd pull out and push back in his cock went deeper into you, until finally, his hips hit yours.

"Made just for me, huh?" He grins. He nods your head up and down for you and you breathed out a shaky moan as he readjusted. "What's that new guy of yours gonna say when he finds out you're just a cock hungry slut?" He thrusts into you. "You're going to send him running." You tried to shake your head but he held you still while he pumped his cock into you. You held onto his wrist and tried to pull his hand off, but when you figured he wasn't budging, you grabbed onto the sheets under you instead.

"I... I'm going to cum," you choked out.

"Hold it."

"Ah... I can't," your hips rose to meet his. "I can't, please let me cum."

"I swear to god, if you cum, I'm going to send a picture of how fucked up you are to him." Every muscle in your body tensed. He released your face and grabbed your phone from wherever it had landed. He only paused for a second, just long enough for him to pull up the text conversation you had with your poor date. He raises the phone up and takes a picture, cock still inside of you and makeup messed up and all. He turned your phone around to show you, his thumb dangerously close to the send button.

"Don't, oh fuck, don't send that to him, please," you begged him. San placed the phone on the nightstand and started to pick up the pace. "San, don't send that to him."

"Don't cum then, easy as that," San leaned over you attaching his lips to your neck. "You can do it," he encouraged you, but his hand started to play with your clit and you could feel your head spinning.

"Fuck..." your words trailed off. You couldn't stop moaning now, and San grunting into your ear didn't help. You felt him bite down on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your collarbone. He lifts you off of the bed and moves under you. He grabs your hips and held you steady while he pistoned up into you. "San!" You grabbed onto the headboard.

"Say my name again," his thrusts started to get faster. "Say it!"

"San! Just like that, fuck, please let me cum," your head fell on his shoulder and your hands wrapped around his neck. You pressed sloppy kisses under his ear and San groaned. Then, to your horror and to his amusement, your phone started vibrating on the table. San stopped and you cried.

"Oho, who's that?" San's head turned and you grabbed his wrist before he could even think of reaching for your phone.

"Don't," you looked into his eyes and San's smile only grew.

"Oh, I won't answer it, that's fucked," he says. "You will, though."

"No..." you shook your head and he grabbed your phone, holding it up for you.

"Answer it, (Y/N). You don't want to break the poor guy's heart, do you?" He teases you. "Don't mind me, I'll just be here," he adjusts himself to be more comfortable. "We can continue after," he says. But you knew him, you knew that look in his eyes. You made a move to pull out of him, but he held your hips down. He slid his thumb across the phone, the call connecting.

"Hey, (Y/N)," you heard Mark's voice. "I hope you don't mind that I called out of the blue, like this." You held your breath and San looked at the phone. "(Y/N)?"

"Hi, hey, Mark," your voice was weak.

"Whoa, I call at a bad time?" San shook his head. "What are you up to?"

"I'm just," your voice hitched up when San started to lightly move his hips, "I'm at the gym, is all."

"Oh! No wonder, you sound tired!"

"Just a little," you answered. "Why did you call?" You tried to move off of San again, but he pulled you down. He leaned forward and kissed under your jaw while he placed the phone down next to you.

"No big reason, I just wanted to hear your voice, is all." San licked up your jawline and captured your lips with his before you could respond. "Sorry, was that weird?" You moaned quietly.

"No, no, I don't mind," you answered quickly. San began to thrust into you again. "Look, Mark, I'll... I'll talk to you later, you kind of caught me at a bad time," you glanced down at where your bodies connected and you bit down on your lip.

"Yeah! It's no biggie, I'll see you tomorrow! Pick you up at eight?" San hung up the call and flipped you down onto the bed, your breasts pressed up against the comforter and his hand on your head.

"You're joking, right?" His tone takes on a new sardonic one. "Mark, that nerd?" He laughs and pulls out of you, cock landing between your ass cheeks. "Come on, (Y/N), talk about a fucking downgrade, you two even fuck yet?"

"Yes," you answered.

"Wait, wait, let me rephrase that," you felt his cock prodding at your entrance. He places your phone in front of you, the camera turned on. You almost wanted to look away from it, but he stopped you from doing so. You noticed the red square at the bottom of it. "Has he even made you cum yet?" He asks you. You shook your head and San thrust into you again. You moaned and hid your face away while he fucked you into the mattress. "You really think he can get you as dumbfucked as I do?" You shook your head. "Cum." You did so, your throat was burning from all the times he left you screaming. Your pussy pulsated around his cock and he turned you around again so that you could face him. He grabbed your face with his hand and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. He practically chewed down on your mouth now while chasing after his own orgasm. He grabs your phone again and your legs wrapped around his waist. "Look at that, look at you," he holds the phone over you and you wiped the trail of saliva from the corner of your mouth. He ends the video and tosses your phone aside. "Admit it, (Y/N), no one fucks you the way I do," he pushes into you and you felt his cock tense inside of you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me harder," you nodded your head and he cummed inside of you. You saw white spots around your vision as you felt him filling you. You fell limp against the bed and he lifted you up, you were only being supported by his arms around you now while he continued to shallow thrust into you. You were just struggling to catch your breath while you were slumped over him. "God, I fucking love you," the phrase just slipped out. Your voice was hoarse and your mind blank, but somehow your words still held weight. San just responds by kissing you softly.

"Dammit, (Y/N), I never stopped," he mutters against your tender lips and somehow this still felt sweet. San lays you down on the bed, still kissing you and still inside of you. How he's still hard was beyond you, so you knew he wasn't going to stop just yet. He separated from you and you held his face to stop him from going further.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" He asks quietly. Your hand falls to his neck.

"I still love you," you pulled him down onto you and he moans against your lips, a newfound fervor in his movements. "Fuck, I love you and it's driving me insane." You chanted it like it was a mantra. It was true. In all of the dates you'd gone on and in all of the hookups you've had, you always found yourself comparing them to your first love, your first boyfriend. And here you were, still fucking him after breaking up with him so long ago.

"Say it again," he fucked you at his own pace, cum gushing out around his cock and spotting the bed.

"I love you," you repeated. "I know I shouldn't, but I love you."

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he said before kissing you. He cummed inside of you again, it was less intense than before, but it was enough to leave you spiraling. You pressed your hips down on him and he groaned. "You're insatiable."

"You're worse," you fired back. "You're worse because you keep making me come back," you held his face in your hands.

"You make it hard to leave," he pulls out of you, cum flowing out of your pussy. You caught your breath now while San rolled next to you.

"I'm about to break that poor boy's heart," you grabbed your phone and your heart stopped. "Oh fuck."

"Whoops," San glances over you to see the sent audio message.

"I'm dropping out of orgo," you turned your phone off and rolled toward him, your face against his chest. "I can never look at him again, oh fuck."

"Well, shit happens, (Y/N)," he wraps his arm around you and rubs your back. "You okay though? Not sore anywhere?"

"Not yet, I'll call you tomorrow to let you know."

"Call me tomorrow?" He looks at you quizzically. "Nah, you're coming home with me tonight."

"Huh?"

"No, I'm not letting you go home looking like that," he grabs your dress from the floor and places it on the bed next to you. "This is hot, by the way." He pulls his shirt over his head.

"Is it?" You pulled the dress on.

"Yeah, you look good in black," he picks up your panty and shoved it in his pockets.

"Hey, I need that," you toss him his belt.

"Not tonight, you won't," he tosses his keys in his hand.

"San!" You follow him out of the room just in time for Yeosang and Wooyoung to stumble out of the bathroom.

"Good luck getting home, assholes," San chides at them. They drunkenly looked between the both of you.

"Did you two fuck?!" Wooyoung shouts over the music. But his question ultimately went unanswered while you followed San out of the party.

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#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fics #ateez x you #ateez x yn #san x reader #san x you #san x yn #ateez smut #san smut #my writings #smut #choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san x yn #choi san smut

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tieronecrush · 1 year

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OKAY I SAW SOMEONE ELSE ASK THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE BUT I HAVE MY OWN TWIST.

So actor!Joel and actress!reader are on set and they have a pool table & Joel finds out that reader has never played pool before and his determined to teacher her. So Joel invites her back to his place where he has a pool table in an “entertainment” kind of room at his place. Then he’s helping reader try to play but she can’t focus with his hands on her and him up against him so after a few shots she just decides to tease him. And then just take it away from there 😫

umm this request made my brain go crazy like first of all, actor!joel?? i picture him similar to matthew mcconaughey (probably cause both are from austin lol) but like slightly a little more awkward or kind of grumpy. just not as pretty boy suave kind of southern charm man like mcconaughey but still obviously handsome and endearing. also i am a sucker for competency of any kind so joel having a skill you don’t have and wanting to teach you?? hot. tysm for requesting this from me, i had so much fun with it!

orange crush

actor!joel x actress!reader

orange crush: the weaker player is given the 5 orange ball and the break, also known as the crush. this is a handicap with the name derived from the defense of the denver broncos football team.

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

word count: 4k

warnings: au joel, actor!joel, no age mentioned, no use of y/n, use of pet names (darling, sugar, sweetness, sweet girl, baby), really bad descriptions of playing pool/billiards, mentions of alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk

i did not proofread cause i am feeling lazy today, so apologies for typos or bad grammar

“Cut! Let’s wrap for lunch everyone, back to shooting in an hour!”

The loud bell rings twice after the director, Nancy, calls out to everyone on set, and you immediately relax from the scene's tension and fall out of character, looking up at Joel kneeling next to you on the mattress in the middle of the soundstage. Broad shoulders lead down to muscular arms, veins popping out of his forearms as he strains to hold his weight comfortably over you. His bare chest feels strong under where your hands are still resting, your legs spread around his hips. The intimacy coordinator, Julie, starts to cross the stage, with two robes in her hands.

“Great job, guys! It all looked awesome on camera, was the choreography more comfortable for you two this time?” Julie smiles as she hands Joel his robe, his frame scooting back away from you and standing up from off the mattress. He clothes himself as you sit up from your position, taking your own dressing gown from Julie.

“Felt a lot better to me, not sure how you felt about it?” Joel’s eyes fall away from you as you dress again, his body turning full towards Julie and his large hand moving up to cradle the back of his neck. The tiny hint of awkwardness behind his body language makes a smile tug at the corners of your mouth; the man is gorgeous and confident in his acting, but the suave persona that most of his characters have doesn’t quite reach Joel. He’s endearing and so incredibly respectful, his Southern manners and caring personality have pulled you to him like a magnet.

“I think it was a lot better too. Much more…natural, I would say.”

Joel nods in agreement and Julie smiles, clapping her hands together as she looks back and forth at the two of you standing on set. After a quick conversation about small details she wants to change up for the handful of takes they want to get after lunch, all three of you part ways. You run back to your trailer to change out of the (minimal) costuming you’ve got on and into some loungewear, heading back over to grab your lunch and eat with some of the crew like you’ve been doing for the entire shoot.

Your eyes scan the room for Joel, disappointment blooming in your chest when he’s nowhere to be found. It’s not like you two had made any plans to hang out over lunch, and after what you had spent all morning doing, you figured he wanted some space to recuperate before getting back at it in an hour.

Both of you have been spending more and more time together in between scenes and after half days of filming. He’ll grab you a coffee and breakfast from craft services most mornings, hand delivering it to you while you get your makeup done, and always getting the right amount of milk and sugar. After one conversation about how much you loved Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and how Joel had never read the classic novel, you had lent him your prized and battered copy. You'd shown up to your trailer the following Monday to the whole set of Jane Austen classics with beautiful artistic designs across their clothbound covers. The copy you had let him borrow sat next to the set, and the new Pride and Prejudice he had gifted you had been pulled out of the box and laid on top, and when you flipped open the cover, you were met with an inscription Joel had left in his chicken scratch handwriting:

“I can see why you’ve always loved it. You’re Elizabeth. And I admire you ardently. - J”

How could you not have a crush on him after that?

Once you're finished eating, there’s still a generous amount of time left on lunch so you head over to the break area filled with crew members playing cards, lounging around and chatting, and even playing ping pong and pool at the tables on the far end of the room. Searching for a group to join, the royal purple Lakers shirt you saw this morning in the makeup trailer catches your eye.

Joel is leaning over the pool table, cue balanced between the knuckle of his index finger and the pad of his thumb, concentration evident in his constricted pupils and the flat line of his lips pressed together. The hand reached back on his cue pulls the wooden stick back and snaps it forward, sending the white ball rolling quickly across the table and knocking the blue-striped ball inside the corner pocket.

Meandering up to the green felt-covered table, you settle next to one of the sound guys, Phil, to watch as Joel continues his turn. He makes it look easy, sinking two more resin balls into the pockets before his last shot misses by a few centimeters.

Joel’s focus breaks as he lifts his gaze from the surface and holds the cue vertically, head turning towards Phil to say something when he notices you standing there. A smile stretches his mouth to one side, boots shuffling along the concrete floor as he traipses up to you.

“I have to say, those were some impressive skills there, Joel.” He laughs softly and leans on one hip, holding the stick out to the side as it rests on the floor.

“Why thank you, sugar. Could’ve aimed a bit better at that last shot, but I think my angle was off in the first place so I don’t think I was gettin’ it in no matter what I tried.”

“I have no idea what you mean, so I’m just gonna smile and nod like I understand.” Your head moves up and down, and Joel gives you a playfully quizzical look.

“You’ve never played pool, like ever? Not even tryin’ one shot?” You give him a shrug, eyes pulling away from his to watch as Phil sinks one of his shots.

“Never. Didn’t have a table growing up and never had the chance to learn. I barely understand the basic rules, like why do you put them all in the triangle thing and how do you decide who’s the stripes or the fully colored ones?”

“Well, it’s pretty easy to pick up,” Joel glances at his watch and then looks back at you, your eyes meeting his as he addresses you, “We don’t have much time left on lunch, but I’ve got a table at my place if you’d wanna come by after filming tonight to learn.”

“Oh, no it’s alright. You don’t have to go out of your way to teach me the game, Joel. You should relax and enjoy the night off tonight.”

His lips quirk up in a boyish grin, head shaking as he hits the cue against the ground as if he were announcing a proclamation.

“I insist. I wanna teach you. Plus, what if the next big role you’re up for is for some femme fatale professional pool player? You would definitely need to know at least the basics to get the part.” That makes you laugh, picturing whatever ridiculous movie that would be a part of. Before you can get nervous about the thought of it being only the two of you at his house, the PA announces over the loudspeakers that you and Joel are being called back to set in the next ten minutes. You can feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you match his smile, doing your best to hide the nervous excitement you’re feeling.

“Alright, Mr. Miller. I’ll come by tonight. How’s eight o’clock?”

“Sounds perfect, darlin’. I’ll send you my address.”

Joel is all over his house. Not physically, but you can see and hear and smell him around you as you make your way into the basement behind him, drink that he made you in hand, and listen to him answer your questions about when he moved into the house in the hills.

A worn chestnut leather couch filled with navy blue and rich maroon red throw pillows takes up most of the seating area. You’re surprised by how soft all of his furnishings are, the touches of mid-century modern with eclectic patterns across the whole place with a Turkish rug across the floor and hints of his Texan background in his art decorating the wall and coffee table books on the glass surface.

It feels like a home.

And it’s immediately comfortable, feeling like you’ve spent hours or days of your life here despite it being the first time.

His pool table is a deep wood, burgundy felt covering the playing surface. It’s a much more modern shape than most tables you’ve seen before, fitting in seamlessly with the rest of the basement.

Joel sets his glass of whiskey down, crossing the room to grab a cue off of the holder on the wall. A small cube of blue chalk sits in his large hand as he comes back to you, trading your drink for the chalk.

“You want to rub the chalk on the end of the cue, keeps it from slipping against the surface of the ball.” He places your drink next to his and steps to the side of you as you both settle at the edge of the table helping you to get the pool stick into position.

His hands cover yours as he instructs you on how to place your hands and fingers to balance the cue for a good shot, leaning back but placing his palm on your lower back as his deep timbre vibrates in your eardrum and sends goosebumps down your spine.

“So you’ve got it all lined up now, does this position feel good to you?”

You nearly joke at the question, your mind pulling you to a completely different scenario. With a hem, you clear your throat and nod, using all of your power to make your voice come out cool and collected.

“Yeah, feels good.”

“Alright then, sugar, give it a shot. Just aim towards the center to break, and then we can take it from there.”

You can still feel him close behind you as you pull the cue back with one hand, forcing it forward and watching as it strikes the solid white ball. Rolling across the table, it makes a knocking sound against the resin of the yellow number one ball. The rest of the triangle falls apart, sending each piece of the game in all directions. You stand up, grinning happily at the results, and feel Joel’s chest against your shoulders.

He steps back a few inches to look down at you, mirroring your expression with a glint of pride in his eyes.

“Great job, darlin’. Seems like you might be a natural at this.”

You’re tempted to make a “that’s what she said joke” to break the tension building in the air, but any words get caught in your throat at the feeling of Joel’s warm hand resting against your waist. He turns you back to the table, mapping out each possible shot you could take to decide whether you’d take the solids or stripes. You go with whatever shot he said last, your brain not computing anything else but his proximity and the smell of his cologne filling your nose. Cedarwood, cypress, patchouli, and vetiver mix together, wafting off of his skin and smelling of summer. All you want to do at the moment is bury your head in his neck, taking in the scent of his cologne with his musk and pressing soft kisses at the corner of his jaw.

Thoughts babble on about him, half listening to him as he explains the game and helps you with each shot that you make. Heat flows off of him, his calloused fingers from playing guitar brush against your exposed arms in your short sleeve blouse, gently manipulating you into place.

Every touch ripples more adrenaline through your limbs, head lost in the clouds as you imagine him bending you into positions for a different reason.

After a few more shots, fully distracted in your mind, you decide that you’ve had enough of being the only one out of focus. It was so easy for him to get you worked up while teaching you, but wouldn’t it be just as simple to do the same for him as the student?

In the next shot that Joel is teaching you, his hands fall to your hips to angle them closer to the table. You take the opportunity to bend a few inches forward, seemingly reaching to stretch your arm on the table without using your elbow like he had taught you only about fifteen minutes prior. The bend of your spine swings your hips back more, pressing your ass against his thighs and the crotch of his jeans.

“Basically, you’ll want to-to, um,” Joel trips on his words at the contact, letting out a quiet exhale before continuing, “You want to aim the cue to the right side of the ball to spin it and get it to curve towards the left.”

You feign understanding with a nod, using your years of drama training to act confused. You move the cue way too much to the right, looking back over your shoulder at Joel with doe eyes.

God, you hate that you’re acting dumb to tease him, but it’s what you can think of to keep his hands on you.

“Like this?”

His lips press together in a straight line, eyes avoiding yours as he shakes his head. Stepping out from behind you, he moves to your side and touches the cue instead of your hands to move it to the correct placement.

You take the shot, the spin of the ball too fast and charts off course to hit against the wall. Your back straightens as you stand up, looking at him next to you.

“Maybe it would help to see you do it?”

“Sure, darlin’.” Joel’s lips curl up into a soft smirk, taking the stick from you and setting up the shot for himself. You press in behind him, leaning to look over his shoulder at his form. Fingertips ghost up his spine, splaying out to wrap around the nape of his neck to support yourself. Your chest is pushed against his muscular back, and your free hand slides from his shoulder down his bicep to rest in the crease of his elbow.

A smirk finds your lips as you hear Joel huff out a sigh quietly, easily taking his shot and sinking the ball in the pocket.

Joel stands back up, and your hands stay on him for a second, dropping to take the cue back from him but instead of handing it back to you, he lays it across the table.

“You don’t wanna play anymore?”

Joel leans a hip against the edge of the playing surface, head shaking back and forth as he locks his gaze with yours. His eyes are darker than you’ve seen them before, a confident composure across his relaxed features. He doesn’t say anything more, and you stutter to fill the silence.

“Well, um, should I head out? I know we have an early call time tomorrow so I totally get it if you wanna get some sleep.”

Joel stands up straight, broad frame taking up your vision as he closes the gap between the two of you. One of his hands goes to your cheek, thumbing skating across your skin and your eyes flutter closed at the touch.

“I don’t want you to go, sugar. And I don’t think you wanna leave either. Am I right?”

A thick swallow echoes in your ears when you nod, eyes opening again to fasten with his.

“Yes.”

“And I think, maybe, you want me to kiss you as much as I want to kiss you. Is that right, too?”

“Maybe. I want you to kiss me, but I don’t know how much you wanna kiss me, so I can’t confirm or deny that thought.”

Joel smirks and chuckles softly, eyes rolling playfully.

“Always contesting.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

It’s your turn to smirk, leaning your head into his expansive palm. He tilts your head back to look up at him more, a glimmer of lust in his eyes, and his head moving closer by inches to ghost his lips over yours.

“I do. I like everything about you,” the Texan drawl weaves into his words, a rustic rasp in his voice that floods your core.

Before you can respond, your bottom lip is caught between his in a light kiss.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and you chase after him, connecting in a deeper kiss with him. Your hands find his chest, one slipping up and around his neck to hold him close. Your lips part as you inhale shortly, and Joel takes the chance to lick into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan that gets swallowed in the exchange.

Joel’s hand drops from your face, gripping your hips with his other and turning you to push you back against the pool table. His bulge is flush against you and you cant your hips against him in an attempt to release some of the growing pressure in your gut. Joel groans against your mouth, fingers notching in the waistband of your jeans, pulling his lips away and saying in between panting breaths.

“Is this alright?”

You nod quickly and grab his hands in yours, guiding them toward the button and zipper of your pants.

“More than okay, Joel.”

He takes your words and actions in stride, fingers popping the button loose and drawing down your zipper. He pushes the fabric over the swell of your ass and down your legs while you tug your shirt over your head. As Joel settles on his knees to free your ankles, your hands find the collar of his shirt and pull gently to hint at him.

Immediately, he strips out of the t-shirt he was wearing, tossing it to the side with your garments. Large hands skim across the velvety skin of your thighs, Joel’s ghostly kisses cresting waves of goosebumps. He presses his lips to your clothed mound, a shiver crawling up your spine as it arches and pushes your hips closer to him.

Joel looks up at you with a devilish grin on his face, grip shifting to the sides of your legs and working to turn you around. A hand at your lower back nudges you to bend forward to lay your front on the table’s surface, a whine falling from your lips when you feel Joel’s breath fanning across your panties that are stuck to your center with your wetness.

“Please, Joel…”

“Hmm? What, sweet girl? What do you need from me?”

His hands tease over the folds of your cunt, featherlight touches pulling soft whimpers from you. Your eyes close as you focus on the feeling of his fingers on your skin, taking a breath before answering.

“I need you to touch me. Please, baby.”

Joel hums at the pet name, pressing a kiss to one of your asscheeks before grazing his teeth over the same spot. You moan his name and he chuckles darkly from behind.

“I can do that for you, darlin’. Can I taste you too?”

“Yesyesyes. Pretty please.”

Joel works your panties from your waist, dropping them to fall to your ankles and you step one foot out of them. His hand holds one of your thighs and one of the sides of your ass, pursed lips blowing cool air against your soaked pussy.

“So pretty. Did me teaching you and having my hands on you get you dripping like this, sweetness? Naughty girl.” He smacks a light slap to your backside, using his digits to rub soothing circles into the spot as he leans between your legs and licks up from your clit to your taint, tongue pausing to slip into your entrance to tease you. A moan slips loudly from your lips, eyes screwing shut as you blindly reach to grip the edge of the table.

Joel sucks as your clit, thumb notching at your entrance. Your hips press back to feel more of him, and he lets out a groan at your need. He pulls away with a smack of his lips, biting a nip into your inner thigh.

“Taste so good, baby. Such a sweet pussy for a sweet girl.”

One of his thick fingers drags through your seam, gathering your wetness before slipping easily into your cunt. As he thrusts his digit in and out, his lips attach to your clit again, alternating between tongue-swirling circles and suckling at the spot. Whines pour from your mouth, his name the only coherent word you can speak.

A second finger glides in along with the first, stretching you further and filling you up even more. Grinding back against his face and hand, Joel’s moan vibrates against your pussy and adds to the pleasure he’s building up and up as he kneels behind you.

“Fuck, Joel, want your tongue.”

“Anything you want, sweetness.”

His fingers pull out of you, quickly being replaced with his tongue thrusting into you. Wanton moans and whines fill the room along with the squelch of your wetness against his mouth, the stubbly, patchy beard covering his chin scratching against your sensitive skin. His fingers coated in your arousal find your bud, working the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter toward your release.

“I’m close, baby, so fucking close.”

Without a response through words, Joel works you faster, free hand gripping tightly to keep you in place as you try to lean away from the intense stimulation he’s giving you. Eyes screw shut, jaw dropping with a rumbling moan of his name as you come, white spots sparking against the black of your vision.

“Such a good girl. Such pretty sounds from you, sugar. Could listen to you all night.”

His fingers are still circling languidly around your clit, his tongue swiping along your folds to collect your come. Your hips twitch in overstimulation, a hand reaching back as you straighten up, tangling with his graying locks to pull him away from you.

His chin and lips glisten in the low lighting of the basement, a dab of your wetness caught on the tip of his nose. A haze covers his eyes as he looks up at you as if you were from another world, completely pussy-drunk. Kisses are pressed delicately to the back of your thighs and you hum contently, tugging at his hair to ask him silently to stand up.

You turn as his arms wrap around your waist, hands gripping your ass to pull as close as possible. The two of you share a kiss, the taste of you all over his lips and his tongue. Pulling away, you rest back in his arms, a confession crossing your mind.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything, sugar,” Joel rasps out, squeezing the swell of your ass.

A smirk plays at your face, teeth catching your bottom lip between them before you speak.

“I know how to play. My dad started teaching me when I was like twelve. Had a table in my basement and everything.” Joel’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and after a beat of silence, a loud laugh breaks through the room and his head falls back. He laughs for a hot minute before looking back at you, a wide grin on his face.

“Are you telling me that you kind of…hustled me?”

“I mean, if you can do it for getting eaten out instead of money, then yeah, I guess I did.”

That gets him to laugh again, shaking his head as he leans down and kisses you sweetly.

“Darlin’, if that’s what you think of it as, you can hustle me any day you want.”

It’s your turn to press a kiss to his lips, pulling away with a grin.

“Well, I’ll make sure to only hustle you. Things might get awkward if I did it in the break area on set.”

“Extremely awkward. But I’m honored to be the only one to get hustled by you.”

You laugh and shake your head at his cheesiness, rolling your eyes playfully before grabbing his shirt off the ground and pulling it over your head.

“Alright, rack up, Miller. We’re playing for real. Winner gets hustled, by my definition of the word.” You send him a wink as you step over to grab a cue, watching as Joel scrambles to set up a game for the two of you.

“Oh, you’re on, sweet girl. But I hope you realize, I’m winning either way.” He smirks at you and gives you one last kiss before nodding to the table.

“You got the crush, sugar. Go for it.”

“We both have the crush, honey. That’s how we ended up here.”

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